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cheesybadgers · 2 years

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 13)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 9,819

Summary: With Horacio now safely in hiding and Javier and Steve still out of action, the tranquillity of the ranch gives everyone much-needed downtime and the opportunity for some long overdue heart-to-hearts.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Grief, parental loss, religious guilt, discussions of sexuality/coming out, brief mentions of period-typical prejudices, smut including anal fingering/sex and mild power dynamics, dreams/nightmares, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, angst (but also lots and lots of softness and fluff, fear not!), swearing, smoking, drinking.

Notes: Firstly, I absolutely did not intend to leave such a big gap between posting chapters, oops! A combination of creative burnout followed by covid (I’m fine now) completely threw me off course. Secondly, hopefully the ridiculous size of this chapter makes up for the lack of updates recently 😂 Thirdly, I just wanted to say a huge thank you to those still reading/interacting. I know following a long fic can be frustrating waiting for updates, so I appreciate anyone along for the ride ❤️ I’ve got some time off work coming up, so hoping to get stuck into chapter 14 soon!

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 13: Revelations

Javier quietly closed the guesthouse door as he stepped into the chilled night air and made his way to the weathered porch swing in the backyard. He was grateful for the oversized sweater he’d thrown on and nestled his fingers deeper into the long sleeves.

It was an old one left abandoned from his pre-Colombia days dug out from his bedroom closet, possibly a Christmas present from a distant relative. Horacio had borrowed it earlier that evening, leaving behind a comforting scent of aftershave and tobacco.

Javier inhaled, eyes closed, and sunk further into the soft fabric.

After many years of city living, he’d forgotten how clear the skies were here. He had lost count of the number of times he’d laid in the long grass looking up at the stars when he was younger. It was easy to kid himself that he could reach out and touch them, re-arrange them at his will. That had always been his problem. An optical illusion that he was capable of controlling more than he could in reality.

He supposed it started when his mother fell ill. The sicker she became, the more helpless he felt. It didn’t matter that he was only a child himself, and realistically, what could he have done anyway? Everyone around him prayed each day. He tried his best, but some days he would forget. Or, some days he would look at his Mamá and see how frail she was and wonder what the point was.

That wasn’t long before the self-flagellation set in. When he wished that he hadn’t skipped those days because then maybe she would still have been there. When he started to question whether that was why he wasn’t like most of the other boys at school. When he wanted to talk about boys in the same way he talked about girls but couldn’t. When he got so used to keeping his emotions under lock and key, it would become a destructive habit that would take decades and one person to help him break. Maybe if he’d just said his prayers like everyone else, none of this would ever have happened.

As he got older and wiser, he rejected a lot of the bullshit instilled in him. But everything became tied up with overcompensating in some way or another. It was partly why he took the transfer to Colombia when it came up. In hindsight, he didn’t know why he was under the misguided notion it would be a simple case of good guys vs bad guys. But it was what he needed at the time, no matter how naïve such black-and-white thinking was.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” A familiar long shadow appeared, and much to Javier’s relief, the owner of the shadow was armed with a six-pack of beers.

“How did you know?”

“Partner’s intuition.”

“Ah, of course.”

Steve sat down on the swing, causing it to sway with the extra weight. “I think it’s the quiet out here. Not used to it these days.”

“No, nothing quite like a shootout by your window to soothe you to sleep.”

“Damn right. Thought you might appreciate a nightcap.” Steve slackened a couple of bottles from the packaging and popped the lids off on the edge of the seat before handing one to Javier.

“Thanks. You know me too well.”

“Not as well as my wife, apparently,” Steve scoffed before taking a long, quenching gulp from his bottle.

It was a conversation they had both been putting off, but Javier was pleasantly surprised that Steve was taking the bull by the horns. And relieved because it meant he didn't have to. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“Hey, man, no. I wasn’t – that’s not what I meant. I get it. I guess I just should’ve seen it sooner and backed off. Although, a lotta shit makes sense now. No wonder he hated me when I first showed up.”

It was enough to ease the tension as they sniggered into their bottles.

“Modest, Murphy. Real modest.”

“Oh, come on! He might as well have fuckin’ peed around you. Remember that first night you let me tag along? If looks could kill.”

Those days felt like a lifetime ago to Javier, and so much had changed – apart from the small fact that Escobar was still a free man. A surge of heat rose in his cheeks at the realisation that was only hitting him now: Horacio had been jealous. Of course. How hadn’t he seen it back then? And why was the thought of it giving him something of a thrill?

No sooner had that question crossed his mind than he pulled himself out of his head and took a much-needed swig of his beer. “You were pretty fucking clueless back then, to be fair. Oh, and he still thinks you can’t speak Spanish for shit.”

“Is that right?” With a boyish grin plastered across his face, Steve shouted “¡Coma mierda, pendejo!” in the general direction of the guesthouse, despite the fact Javier was the intended target of his pettiness. Mostly.

Javier hushed him and lightly smacked him on the shoulder. “Yeah, bravo, Steve. Did Olivia teach you that?”

They had both dissolved into laughter again, Javier definitely catching a mumbled Fuck you in there somewhere too.

“Steve…are we – are we still okay?” Javier asked after they had settled down again. He was taken aback by how timid his voice sounded and almost didn’t recognise it as his own. But then this was new territory, he guessed for both of them.

“Javi, ‘course we are. I mean, you probably coulda picked someone a bit less fuckin’ volatile…” He paused with a smirk to allow Javier the obligatory expletive-filled comeback, which Javier was happy to provide. “But it makes no difference to me, and you know I ain’t gonna say shit to anyone.”

That went without saying, but it soothed Javier’s nerves to hear it nonetheless. This wasn’t something he’d ever spoken about in the past. It was always something he, didn’t necessarily feel ashamed of – at least not these days – but rather had been forced to hide out of necessity. It wasn’t the kind of small talk you made with your partner whilst on a stakeout or at the bar after hours. And everyone he’d ever worked with knew all too well of his interest in women, so it was easier and safer to let them make their own assumptions.

He gave a nod of thanks to Steve in reply and sensed a weight had lifted. It was a weight he had always carried and probably always would to some extent, but for the time being, he basked in the relief of feeling that little bit lighter for a change.

Only the gentle rustling of the breeze through the trees and the distant hoot of an owl could be heard as they sat in companionable silence.

“What d’you think they’ll do with us?” Steve eventually asked.

It had taken a couple of weeks after they left Colombia for Messina to get in touch. And even then, it was just a curt call informing them that it was best if they used up what was left of their vacation time until Christmas, with a ruling to be made in the New Year. It was all suspiciously vague, but at least it gave them extra downtime.

“Fuck knows. Best case scenario? We’re on desk duties until they find Escobar.”

“And worst case?”

Javier threw Steve a scathing look that said all that needed to be said.

Steve raised his arms in surrender. “Alright, alright! Point taken. Would you go back, though? If they don’t fire us.”

Javier drained the rest of his beer before reaching immediately for another bottle and busying himself with opening it. “Guess I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.” A cheat of an answer, admittedly, but not a lie.

“Right. ‘Course.” Steve followed suit and snapped open another bottle. “When Connie went back to Miami, I thought about leaving.”

“But you didn’t, though.”

Steve let out a hollow laugh that whistled through the neck of the beer bottle. “Nope.” He took another swig. “I offered to, but she shrugged it off. Just told me to make sure I’m still me when it’s over.”

That sounded suspiciously like something Chucho had said to Javier on multiple occasions. When each Christmas, Javier had come back that little bit harder to reach than the last. And in the end, they’d had to call an unspoken truce not to bring the subject up again for the rest of Javier’s stay because it never got them anywhere.

Javier stared out across the plains that glinted like jewelled waves under the crisp, clear sky as Steve’s loosened drawl dimmed to background noise.

He guzzled his way through his drink whilst the stubborn part of him pretended he was still the same kid who had looked up at the same stars with awe and wonder. With ambition and hunger. When the world had felt like his oyster and was his for the taking. Anything to get away from here where it seemed everyone but Javier already had his life planned out for him.

But that was the thing about optical illusions. They were only able to deceive the eye for so long.

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Not long after Javier had bid goodnight to Steve and slipped into bed unnoticed, he woke with a start. The room was still layered in shades of darkness, although a chorus of birdsong from a nearby cluster of mesquite trees drifted through an open window.

Even before he reached across to find Horacio’s half of the bed empty, he sensed he was alone. He never used to think of himself as the type who needed the security of someone by his side every night, but now that he was accustomed to it, he felt the absence more keenly.

For the first couple of weeks, sleep had come easier than ever for them. In Colombia, they so often tried to fight it. To push through the pain barrier for the sake of another raid, wiretap or CI lead. It didn’t matter if it was a dead-end that got them nowhere; their commitment to the cause was relentless because it had to be. There was no choice.

But here, all of that disappeared overnight, the adrenaline rush they chased no more. It was like the sound was suddenly cut with no warning, plunging them into a vacuum, but their ears still rang in the deafening silence. For a few days, anyway.

Until their fatigue caught up with them and every last reserve they had was depleted. When attempting simple functions was like hitting an impenetrable wall too high to climb over even if they had the strength to try. When anything more complex was like wading through an endless mass of viscous tar.

Then sleep wasn’t an option; it was a necessity. An involuntary state that was impossible to fight even if they wanted to. But for the first time in a long while, they didn’t want to. They embraced it, welcomed it, gave themselves over to it.

It was only after the fog of physical exhaustion lifted, and once their bodies were healing, their routine slipped. After Messina’s call, thoughts of work re-emerged and old ghosts appeared in their dreams again. Bursting the serene bubble they had created and reminding them of what was still going on out there, even if they couldn’t see it.

Javier padded barefoot from the bedroom to the half-lit kitchen, cold air still clinging to the wooden flooring beneath his toes. He came to a halt as he took in the sight of Horacio standing over the sink, pouring himself a glass of water.

After leaving Carlos Holguín in a hurry, Javier only had time to grab a few essentials from his and Steve’s bunkroom and Horacio’s locker. But those amounted to little more than toiletries and a spare change of clothes or two. Not exactly sufficient for however long Horacio was going to be staying here. So, armed with a list of measurements, Steve and Connie had ventured into Laredo to pick up some extras.

Javier would never forget Horacio’s face when he held the dark blue denim up against his legs, almost as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Javier had reminded him that he was in cowboy territory now, but it didn’t do anything to temper Horacio’s glare.

In the here and now, whilst Javier hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes – a choice he was regretting given the temperature – Horacio had thrown on his new jeans, along with a red plaid shirt Javier recognised as his own. It was another item dug out from the past, along with the sweater.

The shirt was left unbuttoned, as although their shoulders were of a similar build, Horacio’s chest and waist were broader, and he carried more muscle than Javier. Understandably, they were both softer around the middle since the ambush, so any attempts to fasten the shirt had the buttons straining in protest.

As the water ran into the sink, Javier’s gaze instinctively honed in on the way the denim clung to the curve of Horacio’s ass and the meat of his thighs, as though it had been made for him. In all of the time they’d known each other, Javier was sure he’d only ever seen Horacio in khakis or his uniform. So, the novelty of jeans hadn’t worn off yet, especially when combined with his own shirt.

Before Horacio had a chance to turn around, Javier made his move, encircling Horacio’s waist under the fabric of his shirt. Taking care to avoid their injuries, he pressed forwards, his chin landing on Horacio’s left shoulder.

Horacio tensed for a split second out of pure instinct before remembering there was no threat here. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. You didn’t.” Javier nuzzled himself further into the crook of Horacio’s neck and tightened the grip at his waist. “Bad dream, that’s all.”

There was an unmistakable scoff as Horacio brought the glass of water to his lips and took a large gulp. “Must be one of those nights.”

“You alright?”

Horacio clenched his jaw, conflicted between giving an easy answer and the truth. But this was far from the first time either of them had been plagued with nightmares. And there was no point pretending or trying to hide it from the other at this stage, even if they were thousands of miles from the source of the dreams. “I was back in hospital again. And when I woke up, they told me you were – that you’d…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Javier kissed reassurances into any exposed patches of skin he could reach. “And we’re both fine.” Except they weren’t. Not really. Not yet. But they were alive. A fact they kept having to tell themselves when the flashbacks inevitably hit.

“I know, it’s just – even the thought of…”

Javier gently hushed Horacio, sparing him from spelling it out loud. “I dreamt about that night too. We listened to Messina’s orders and didn’t go after you.” He let out a small huff of a laugh, but it was bitter and laced with disgust. “Like sitting fucking ducks.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to soothe Javier, the rising tension in his muscles palpable. It was no wonder he often suffered from headaches and a stiff jaw. Although, Horacio hadn’t noticed the tell-tale signs of him rubbing his temples for relief in weeks, which must have been something of a record.

Horacio turned so that his week-old stubble – which bordered on a beard by this point – scraped along Javier’s cheek. “If I’m not allowed what-ifs, neither are you.”

Goosebumps spread like wildfire across Javier’s body as he reaped the benefits of Horacio being too incapacitated to shave much lately. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

His moustache skimmed over Horacio’s face, coarse bristles chasing smoothness wherever it could be found. Anything to feel and hear the other’s reaction. To make it tangible and indisputable that they were both here, and this was real. To satisfy the irrational fear in their minds that they would wake to the alternative at any moment.

Horacio shuddered at the combination of Javier’s facial hair and the weight of his naked form pushing him against the kitchen unit. It hadn’t taken much for the atmosphere to shift into something else entirely, but it was hardly surprising in the circumstances. “What do you need?”

“I need you.”

“How do you need me?”

“I need—need to—” Javier stuttered, trying and failing to get a grip of himself.

“Tell me what you need, Javier. And you can have it.”

“Fuck,” was all Javier could manage for a second, the effects of Horacio’s offer shooting straight to his groin. “You sure? Right here and now?” He needed to check; to be sure there was no misunderstanding created by his own desires.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Shit, Horacio.”

“Say it first, though.”

“I need to fuck you.” His throat was hoarse, but his speech never faltered. He was determined not to leave an ounce of doubt in Horacio’s mind. Not just for selfish reasons, but because he wanted to please him. To give him what he needed in return.

“That’s it, knew you could do it.” It was like music to Horacio’s ears. Because this was never about humiliation, it was about wanting Javier to use his words. To let Horacio hear exactly what Javier wanted so he could give it to him. “Take what you need. I’m right here.”

Javier froze, panting hard into the nape of Horacio’s neck as he wrapped his head around what was about to happen. “I’ll be right back.”

Half-convinced he was still asleep and dreaming, he dashed to the bathroom to retrieve the toiletries bag that he’d swiped from Carlos Holguín. Naturally, he’d kept a healthy supply of lube on hand since Horacio returned from Madrid. And there was no way they were doing this without it.

It almost pained him to rid Horacio of the clothes he looked so good in, but the sight he was left with more than made up for it. They were both still visibly battered and bruised, but like that night in Tolú, they weren’t about to let the small inconvenience of injuries get in the way.

Javier began gradually with slicked fingers, opening Horacio up with one hand whilst the other reached in front of him, stroking his cock at a matching pace. “This okay?”

Horacio hummed his approval as he steadied himself against the kitchen unit. “Yes. Keep going.”

Javier obeyed, curling his fingers at an angle that made Horacio groan and push backwards, eager for more. Anything to close what little gap was left between them, as even that was too much. He did it again and again until Javier’s hardened cock pressed against his ass, where he held still for a long moment. As though seeking permission, a final reassurance.

Horacio nudged encouragingly against Javier, their breath shallow and hearts pounding in their ears. “Do it.” A whispered command but not lacking in authority.

Javier didn’t need telling twice and eased himself inside Horacio, slow but steady with each rock of his hips. He grunted as he reached the hilt, catching his balance with one hand on the edge of the sink. His fingers entwined like a vine around Horacio’s whilst the other hand grasped him at the waist, moulding their bodies together as they moved as one.

The unrushed pace allowed Javier to take in every minute reaction from Horacio. To take in the way the strong beat of his pulse at Javier’s fingertips alleviated any lingering memories of nightmares and what-ifs. The way he shivered and clenched tighter when Javier bucked just that little bit deeper or harder. The way he couldn’t stop the low moans escaping despite how much he tried to stifle them with a bite of his lip. The way that the last jagged shards of his resolve were shattering bit by bit right in front of Javier’s eyes.

And Javier couldn’t help but think of the realisation he had come to earlier that evening. About Horacio’s jealousy long before they were together. He didn’t move for several agonising seconds, wondering if maybe he had more power over Horacio than he thought.

Each pulsation, teasing pause, and torturous back-and-forth motion sent sparks of pleasure spiralling in all directions. Overloading every synapse and wiping all thought from Horacio’s mind. All he knew was Javier. Grounded by his touch, the heat of his ragged breath and scratch of his moustache, the familiar scent of faded aftershave and cigarettes mixed with alcohol and remnants of the fresh night air. He was being devoured, swallowed, consumed.

The darkness from outside contrasted against the light within and cast a translucent reflection in the window above them. The window framed a view of rolling fields and farmland during the day, like a landscape painting hung on the wall. Standing in this picturesque setting, amongst pots and pans with no threat of bullets and bombs, was oddly domestic. It was a tantalising glimpse of what their lives could be like sooner rather than later. A preview of their future. So close, yet so far. Both within their grasp and out of reach.

“Look at me,” Javier rasped as he opened his eyes.

“What?”

“Through the glass. I want to see you.” His words were clear and concise this time. Such was his need to witness how beautifully Horacio wore his arousal. To take in each jolt of ecstasy etched into his face and echoed through the wrecked sounds he made. To know that every single sense was engulfed and overwhelmed, and it was entirely Javier’s own doing as Horacio surrendered to him completely.

Horacio raised his head, indirectly meeting Javier’s gaze and shocking himself at how willingly he took instruction. It went against his natural instincts and was the ultimate role reversal, but he couldn't resist. A revelation that once would have raised his defences, but now, he leaned into it and let go. Because he could never deny Javier what he wanted, especially not when he was voicing it like this, just as Horacio had encouraged him to.

Javier’s thrusts stuttered, and his rhythm was thrown off as he watched them join together, facial muscles taut with pleasure and skin dewy with sweat. It triggered a growl to rumble from deep in his chest, and he pulled Horacio back against him, teeth roughly clashing with supple flesh as he hung on by a thread.

Horacio could only gasp and clamp his fingers around Javier’s on the counter that held them upright. A few more vigorous thrusts and it was over, no hand stimulation required as he let out a strained, quivering breath and spilt across his stomach. The final culmination of his undoing.

Each spasm and aftershock prised the last fragments of control from his body that he had clutched on to for years, if not decades. Shackles that were both self-imposed and forced upon him through circumstance were finally unlocked, if not yet removed. He lay bare, raw and open, trusting Javier to moor him, to keep him safe, to guide him home. To always find his way back to him even when the odds were against them.

It didn’t take long for Javier to follow suit, his grip on Horacio tightening before he tugged him against his chest and snapped his hips forward. A rush of heat filled Horacio whilst Javier jerked and shook against him, his teeth gnashing and nostrils flaring.

Every twitch or subtle movement reverberated through him, amplifying the intensity of his release and the visceral need to be as close to Horacio as possible. Anything less than this wasn’t enough, not after recent events. And yet, it was likely going to have to be enough again soon, at least temporarily.

But he couldn’t think about that in the present. Not when they remained connected whilst they recovered. Catching their breath and soothing one another with tender touches and kisses, the bad dreams a faded memory, for now at least.

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They soon moved back to bed once they had cleaned themselves up. Although sleeping positions were still dictated by their injuries, they sat up against the headboard for the time being, legs and feet tangled beneath the covers.

“Bet my ribs will feel that in the morning.” Javier took a drag from his cigarette before offering it to Horacio. Smoking had become less of a necessity since they had left Colombia; however, this was a post-coital ritual they had no intention of breaking.

“That’s what you get for being so impatient.”

“Hey, you were the one parading around the kitchen looking like…that. It was distracting.”

“Now you know what I’ve had to deal with these past few years.”

Memories sprung to Horacio’s mind of the painfully tight jeans Javier waltzed straight into his office wearing. The ones that left little to the imagination, least of all the fact that he sometimes wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath them. It was a miracle Horacio got any work done at all. And then there were the shirts that he seldom bothered to button more than halfway up. A style choice Horacio was pleased Javier had reverted to here when his Pops wasn’t about.

“I’ve never worn your clothes, to be fair.”

“You can if you want. What’s mine is yours.” As the words fell from Horacio’s lips and his smirk waned, he played with the crucifix that had become a second skin around Javier’s neck.

“When we were on our way to 9th Street, I hated myself for not giving it back to you before you left.” Javier didn’t know why he was telling Horacio this and was aware of how fucking stupid it sounded. As if it would have made any difference to anything, anyway.

“I seem to remember I said you should keep it until this is all over.”

Javier caught the implication hidden beneath the surface and let it linger whilst he drew on his cigarette. “You think they’ll want me back?”

“I’m not sure that’s the right question you should be asking yourself.”

“How d’you mean?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

“Horacio, what are you talking about?”

“If they were gonna fire you, they’d have done it by now.” Horacio plucked the cigarette from Javier’s fingers, deliberately taking his time with it before he spoke again. “So, I think you want me to tell you whether you should go back or not. But you know I can’t do that, Javier.”

“What? I never even asked – what makes you so sure I won’t lose my badge?” Javier stumbled over his words, unsure which point to address first.

“Because different rules always apply to gringos, and you know it. There’d be no reason to delay firing you if they wanted to.”

A small flare of protest bubbled in Javier’s chest for a moment, one that he would have given more credence to in the past, but he had to admit Horacio was right. The DEA being so cloak-and-dagger about their intentions made Javier more nervous than if he’d already been given his marching orders.

Now he’d gotten the easier question out of the way, he confronted the elephant in the room. “I know you don’t want me to go back. But it’s—”

“It’s not that simple, I know.” They shot each other a resigned half-smile. Because of course, they both knew. But Javier had never stopped Horacio – even when he wanted to. “Whatever you decide, I’ll understand. But, if you do go back, promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Be careful. Not just of Escobar. The weaker he gets, the more likely his enemies will crawl out of the woodwork. And they’ll be prepared to do just about anything to dance on his grave.”

Javier had no business promising that any more than Horacio did to ask it of him in the first place. But he nodded anyway and leaned in to press their lips together. Deep charged kisses that distracted and comforted until exhaustion and dawn caught up with them.

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Usually, Javier would have crept out of bed and across the courtyard before the sun came up. But as he stirred awake to a room bathed in warm light, it was clear he had overslept. Shit.

He shoved on yesterday’s crumpled clothes – including a certain plaid shirt – without a second glance, leaving Horacio half-asleep and grumbling at the sudden disturbance.

There were no signs of life outside other than the faint braying of cattle and horses, which made Javier hopeful his father was already doing the breakfast rounds. But to be on the safe side, he pressed down on the farmhouse door handle with extra care.

He was almost home and dry, just a few more steps from the kitchen to his bedroom. However, as he made to close the door, he was stopped in his tracks.

“Morning.”

“Oh, er, morning, Pops. I – I thought you were down at the stables.” Javier had never felt more like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the poker face required for his job nowhere to be found.

“Just heading there now.” Chucho poured freshly brewed coffee from a pot into a flask and eyed Javier curiously as he screwed the lid shut. “Unless you’ve finally decided to make yourself useful?”

“What?” Javier's brain was far too occupied with pre-empting the next lie he was inevitably going to have to tell. But the light, airy tone of Chucho’s voice made his throat constrict.

“You being up and out the house by this time. I thought you’d beaten me to it.”

“Oh. I – well – I just needed some fresh air.” As excuses went, it was a weak one, especially when it was his dad he was trying to convince. Javier may have been able to bullshit and charm his way around a lot of people, but never the man who had seen and heard it all before.

“I see. Good job you didn’t venture further than the guesthouse looking like that, Mijo.” Chucho gestured towards Javier with the hand he held his flask in.

Javier was well and truly lost now, and it wasn’t until he followed Chucho’s sightline that it clicked. His eyes scanned downwards to find his jeans were inside out. And his shirt was lopsided from missing a couple of buttons in his rush to get dressed. Shit.

It was only then that the mention of the guesthouse registered as well, as though he was processing everything on a time delay. Shit, shit, shit.

Whilst Javier tried to fool himself that this was all circumstantial evidence that didn’t prove anything, Chucho picked up his Stetson from the coat hook by the front door. “There’s plenty of coffee left if either of you wants some.”

And with that, he tipped the edge of his hat in farewell, leaving Javier speechless and in dire need of something a hell of a lot stronger than coffee.

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It had taken everything in Horacio to keep a straight face when Javier filled him in. Not because he didn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation, but because it was easier to see the funny side now that he’d met and spent time with Chucho.

The last few weeks weren’t the actions of a man about to turf his son out on the doorstep, no matter what he discovered about him. And even if Javier didn’t want to admit it, Horacio could only imagine what it must have looked like when they arrived here. He would have been surprised if Chucho hadn’t had his suspicions. Yet he had taken them in, few questions asked.

He watched Javier stress-smoke his way through the pack of cigarettes they had opened earlier, brooding as though his life depended on it. Some habits were trickier to break than others, apparently.

Without a word, Horacio linked their hands and stroked his thumb in pacifying circles, for once, quietly confident that it was going to be okay.

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It was the weekend before Christmas, and Steve and Connie were soon due to fly to Miami to be reunited with Olivia and enjoy the holidays with their own families. Chucho had insisted on cooking a festive meal before they left, partly in their honour and partly to celebrate the start of Las Posadas.

Javier found himself with his hands buried deep in a bowl of tamale dough whilst his dad made last-minute seasoning adjustments to the brisket filling.

It had been years since the two of them had done this together. Javier could never forget his Mamá's voice in his head, shooing his Pops out of the kitchen because he didn't know her system as well as she did. After she passed, they tried their best to replicate it, with varying degrees of success.

It was no coincidence that this was the first time they had been alone since their awkward exchange in the very kitchen they now stood in. Javier had done his utmost to avoid this scenario, but Chucho had conveniently delegated various duties to the others. Javier had to laugh at the lack of subtlety and deluded himself into thinking that if he focused on the task at hand, he could avoid having to talk about anything else.

Javier raised an eyebrow and gave the soggy creation in his hands a sceptical once over. “I think I’ve added too much broth.”

“Try more cornflour. Should do the trick.”

Javier reached for the bag of flour across the work surface, sprinkling a generous coating over the dough before working it in with his fingers. It didn’t take long for it to firm up. “Fuckin’ A.”

He could sense the judgemental look thrown his way for that one. It was funny how even at his age, accidentally swearing in front of your elders still brought the same sense of guilt it had done when he was a teenager.

“Good job Tía Inés isn’t around. She’d have sent you straight to Father Emilio to confess your sins.”

Javier snorted and tilted his head in agreement. “I’d be there all day.” He intended it in jest, but his smile quickly fell as the weight of his own words crashed down on him.

“Wouldn’t we all?” Chucho let the question hang in the air as he reached for a spoon to divide the filling into portions. “You’re not the only one to make mistakes and have regrets, Mijo. It’s what you learn from them that counts.”

“You don’t think I should go back, do you?”

Chucho focused intently on his bowl, reluctant to proceed down such a well-trodden, circular path. “Trying to fix something designed to stay broken isn’t the penance you think it is. More likely you’ll end up broken as well.”

“Think it’s a bit late for that.”

“You’re both still alive, aren’t you? You’ve been through a lot, I know. And there will always be scars, but nothing is ever too late.”

Both. Javier’s first instinct was to feign ignorance as usual, but he respected his Pops too much for that. He’d been caught red-handed again, except the evidence was far more damning this time. Excuses that might have washed in his youth certainly wouldn’t wash now. So, he didn’t fight it.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Sometimes things are as simple or complicated as we make them.”

“You really think it’s that easy? We just walk away and live happily ever after?”

“Before I married your Mamá, I was happy just being a farmhand here. I earned enough to get by, but it wasn’t enough for us to plan a proper future together. Abuelita Imelda and Abuelito Mauricio didn’t approve. They thought I was throwing their legacy away. After everything they strived for by moving across the border, they wanted something to show for it. They wanted me to provide for Mariana. To make her happy and make, well, you proud – not that you were around back then.”

“I am proud, Pops.”

“I know. But it’s because I took their advice. Worked my way up. Learned how to manage this place when your Abuelito was too frail. Because they were right. Your mother deserved the world, and I knew I had to give it to her, one way or another. A simple choice, no question. But not necessarily an easy one.”

“Yeah, well, I think there’s an obvious difference between our situations, don’t you?” Javier hoped to fucking God Chucho got what he meant because he really didn’t want to have to spell it out.

“I know, Mijo. I know.” Chucho broke off from his work and looked across at his son who was still unwilling to meet his eye. But that never deterred him. “And I’m not going to pretend I know what it’s like for you.”

Javier kept his gaze down, fearing he wouldn’t be able to control the lump forming in the back of his throat if he looked up. “How long have you known?” It was a question he had wondered about for years, yet to finally voice it felt like the words belonged to someone else.

“Long enough to see it wasn’t just a phase. And it’s part of who you are. And it doesn’t change the fact I love you and want you to be happy again. That’s all your mother and I ever wanted.”

Javier’s hands froze over the dough, his lips pursed with the force and determination of a dam holding back a flood. Although his view of the work surface was blurring rapidly regardless of how hard he blinked.

“I meant what I said. You’ll always have a home here, Javi. You and Horacio. You don’t have to hide for my benefit.”

Javier was still rooted to the spot, but sporadic shaky breaths came in waves, and he desperately tried to suppress them with a clench of his jaw.

It wasn’t a complete shock to witness the defences he’d meticulously forged over the years give way at last. There had been plenty of warning signs, after all. Hairline cracks that had developed into critical weak spots over time, despite his instinct to paper over them and act like they didn’t exist.

He was pulled from his daze by the warmth of a wet dishcloth swiping over his doughy fingers. It was administered with the same care he remembered receiving at the age of five whilst chasing after a runaway calf and skinning his hands and knees. He had been inconsolable until his mother cleaned him up, distracting him with lullabies her own Mamá had sung to her.

“Come here, Mijo. It’s alright.”

And Javier went, moving into his father’s arms, feeling childlike yet world-weary at the same time. But the longer he allowed himself to be held and the more the tears fell into Chucho’s shoulder, the easier it was for Javier to breathe.

He was so often caught between two worlds in his life, whether it was who he chose to share a bed with, his dual heritage, or the precarious tightrope he walked in his job. He’d never fitted neatly into any boxes and didn’t want to most of the time, but he couldn’t deny it left him unsure where he belonged. If anywhere. For once, though, those feelings were abated.

Chucho gently pulled away, his soft smile focused somewhere behind Javier’s head. “Ah good, another pair of hands! How are you at making tamales?”

Horacio stood in the doorway, almost certain of what he had walked in on, half-wishing he hadn’t intruded and half-relieved by Chucho’s easy demeanour towards him. He had an overwhelming urge to throw his arms around Javier and never let him go, but that would have to wait until later.

For now, Horacio settled for catching Javier's eye to ask a wordless question, which was answered with a firm nod. Now that his fears were allayed, he crossed over the threshold into the kitchen. A simple action on the surface, but one that signified so much more. "A bit rusty, but my sister and I used to make them using our Abuela’s recipe.”

Chucho turned back to Javier, a hand still resting on his shoulder. “Definitely a keeper, Mijo,” he said with a conspiratorial wink and squeeze of Javier’s arm.

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The rest of the day passed swiftly in a flurry of food preparations. Javier and Horacio were trusted with finishing off the tamales, whilst Steve and Connie were given a shopping list of fresh groceries and desserts to pick up. Meanwhile, Chucho attended to the array of barbecued meats he seemed to think he was cooking for an entire army.

Soon darkness fell over the ranch, except for the garden, which was saturated in a candescent glow from a crackling fire pit. Wooden seating surrounded it with cushions and blankets borrowed from the guesthouses to keep the winter chill at bay now the sun had gone down.

An old portable radio had been dug out and was lowly playing in the background whilst the dogs sniffed the air, hoping some leftovers would come their way. Although, the tamales were a triumph – which only endeared Horacio to Chucho even more – and were snapped up in record time.

It was the perfect setting to tuck into their loaded plates of food, as Chucho played host and did his best to embarrass Javier with as many childhood anecdotes as he could remember. A particular highlight being Javier’s brief stint at line dancing when he was too young to protest. Or so he claimed now, anyway.

In a quiet lull in conversation whilst they ate, lyrics from a country ballad playing on the radio drifted through the garden.

Look at us, after all these years together

Look at us, after all that we’ve been through

Still leaning on each other

If you wanna see how true love should be

Then just look at us

Instinctively, Javier looked over at Horacio in the chair opposite his own to find Horacio staring right back at him. There was a subtle exchange of arched brows and coy smirks that were in danger of breaking into laughter if they weren’t careful, and then they’d be forced to share their private joke. So, instead, they concentrated aggressively on their food.

Once their plates were cleared and Steve and Connie were helping Chucho in the kitchen, Javier all but dragged Horacio away.

Horacio thought they would be heading for the guesthouse, but Javier had other ideas. He took Horacio's hand and steered him in the opposite direction towards one of the hay barns.

They were far too full of food for anything energetic, but it would have been a wasted opportunity in Javier’s eyes.

They lay with their heads resting on a bale of hay in the aftermath, spent and out of breath. And cold, but they weren’t ready to move yet.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You’re telling me you grew up on a ranch, and you never brought anyone in here before?”

“Nope. You’re the first.”

“Lucky me.”

Both truer sentiments than either man were letting on, and they seemed to realise it as the easy banter from seconds ago was no more.

Javier captured Horacio’s gaze with such intensity that he was sure Horacio could read his thoughts. Or rather, he wished he would. It’d make things a hell of a lot easier if he could. A familiar enduring heat swelled in his chest, one that in the past he’d wanted to squash down and bury because he wasn’t sure he trusted it or himself. But now, he was content to sit with it, to allow it to simmer under the surface.

He pressed his lips to Horacio’s, pouring everything that was running through his mind into each kiss and hoping it wasn’t lost in translation.

Horacio got the message loud and clear, his mouth eager to convey how much he understood. That actions spoke louder than words. That he would still be here when he was ready.

“We better be getting back,” Javier whispered when they pulled apart. “Don’t wanna be giving Pops any more new material.”

They hadn’t spoken much about Chucho with everything else going on. Javier had been quiet afterwards and Horacio hadn’t wanted to press too much. When the tamales were busy steaming, he had encouraged Javier back to the guesthouse for a while, where Horacio silently held and soothed him.

But now they were here, he felt the need to check in again. “No regrets?”

Javier pulled him in by the collar of his shirt for one last searing kiss against the barn door on their way out. “Never.” Never about him. Never about them.

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Back at the farmhouse, Javier joined his Pops and Steve in the kitchen, where they were sampling a selection of whiskeys courtesy of Chucho.

Meanwhile, Connie was in the garden, skewering a plate of marshmallows ready to be roasted on the fire pit. And trying to keep Luna, Sol and Leo at bay.

“Oh hey, there you are. Good timing as I’m being attacked from all angles.” She lifted the plate higher and stored it on a table out of reach as Leo’s nose came dangerously close to nudging one of the marshmallows to the floor.

As soon as Horacio sat down, Luna abandoned her quest for sugary treats in favour of lying at his feet.

He wasn’t naturally a dog person. Or a pet person at all, as his family never kept any when he was growing up. Although he and his sister did unofficially adopt a stray cat who came and went as she pleased. But Luna had taken a shine to the ranch’s current guests. And if Horacio was honest, the feeling was mutual.

He reached down to stroke his fingers through her thick coat and rubbed his thumb along her ears as she grumbled in contentment. “That’s one down, at least.”

“She’s smitten with you.”

“You think?”

“Hmm well, Chucho said she’s usually very independent and prefers to be by herself in the fields. But she’s fiercely protective of those she trusts, and she hasn’t left your side since you got here. So, I’d say you must be doing something right.”

Horacio caught the mischief in Connie’s eye as his lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Point taken.”

Connie couldn’t help but snigger as Leo and Sol settled beneath her chair, having given up on their scavenging for the time being. “How’s the shoulder been today?”

“Good, thanks.” He decided not to mention the slight twinge that had come on since the hay barn. “Better since I started the exercises.”

“That’s good. Just make sure you continue with them after I’m gone. You need to keep moving as much as possible.”

“Of course. I will, thanks. And thank you for everything, by the way. And I don’t just mean whilst we’ve been here.” Horacio looked back at the farmhouse to ensure no one was in earshot. “He acts like he doesn’t need friends, but I’m glad he has you and Steve.”

“That’s the trouble with you independent types. Isn’t that right, Luna?” She ducked down in her chair to attract Luna’s attention. Luna lifted her head and wagged her tail in reply. “He was great with Steve, though. When you were in Madrid and I was in Miami. It’s so hard being that far away and feeling so helpless.”

For some reason, Horacio had never thought of the parallels between their circumstances. A fact that now made him ashamed given how much Connie had done for him when they didn’t know each other all that well. “How did you deal with it?”

“Some days and nights, I didn’t, to be honest. Although, having Olivia helped me stay busy and distracted. And I guess…just trusting that they’ll get through it, one way or another and come out the other side. Because they have to, right?”

Technically, it was a rhetorical question. But Horacio felt obliged for both of their sake not to leave it ominously hanging between them, and he did something he wasn’t expecting.

He leaned across and lightly squeezed Connie’s shoulder. “Of course. And they will.” An assertion he needed to hear as much as Connie did.

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

It was past midnight by the time their celebrations began to wind down. Javier had insisted his dad put his feet up and assured him they would handle tidying up. He and Connie washed the last few dishes whilst Horacio and Steve put the garden back in order.

Once his chores were done, Horacio made the most of the last few dying embers from the fire pit whilst waiting for Javier. He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. Although he didn’t crave them as much these days, he needed to take the edge off tonight. He searched for his lighter in the opposite pocket but found it empty. Typical.

“Great minds think alike.”

Horacio nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus, Murphy.”

“I think the words you’re lookin’ for are thank and you.” After sparking up his own cigarette, he held out his lighter and dropped into the chair next to Horacio.

Horacio fought back an eye roll as he accepted and lit up, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how big that mouth was at times. “Thanks.”

“Quitting’s going well, then.”

Horacio’s head darted round in confusion. “What?”

“These.” Steve shook his pack of cigarettes before depositing it back in his pocket. “Thought you were cutting back.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I’m still working on it.”

“Tell me about it. Connie’s been trying to get me to quit for years. But,” he broke off for another hit and blew a long trail of vapour into the air, “it ain’t that easy.”

Horacio tapped the ashes from his cigarette into the recesses of the fire pit, his vision fixed trance-like on the smouldering remains as they hissed and fizzed at the intrusion. “No. It’s not.”

“Just so y’know, I’d never ask him to come back with me.”

Now that all pretences were dropped, Horacio’s attention was pulled away from the fire. He considered Murphy with a hint of a wry smile, a smile shared with Steve rather than aimed at him, though. “But we both know he will.”

Steve snorted. “Yup.” He made a popping sound with his lips as he spoke, highlighting the depths of his understanding of just how much of a stubborn fucker his partner could be. “Trujillo owes me a box of cigars.”

Horacio couldn’t help but let out a full-blown laugh. “Make sure you hold him to it.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I will. A bet’s a bet, and he knows it.”

An affectionate warmth spread through Horacio’s chest as he thought of his old unit, Trujillo in particular. It had been a matter of weeks since they were his men, but a lot could happen in that timeframe when a country was at war.

He drew deeply on his cigarette, the force of his exhale carrying the smoke away like dandelion seeds at the mercy of the wind. Blown off course multiple times, but their resilience and perseverance never wavering. “And don’t let your partner shut you out.”

The sudden tonal shift caught Steve off guard as he swivelled abruptly to meet Horacio’s eye.

“Because he’ll do it to protect you,” Horacio continued. “Even if it hurts him.”

On the surface, Horacio’s words held a severe air of foreboding. However, he not only knew Javier better than anyone, but he also lived with too many memories of how it could go awry with a partner. And he was aware Steve had his own tale to tell on that front as well.

The meaning wasn’t lost on Steve, though, as he dipped his head in a wordless acceptance of an agreement that was much greater than an endeavour but not quite a guarantee.

Because there were no guarantees in their line of work, especially when it came to dealing with Javier Peña of all people.

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

The week disappeared in a hazy blur once Steve and Connie returned to Miami, and before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve. Whilst they had enjoyed most of their festive celebrations prematurely this year, Chucho attended Midnight Mass at the same church the Peñas always had done. He was not a man to break traditions easily, and it was a family ritual that went back a lot further than Javier. One Chucho had stuck to regardless of Javier’s more recent avoidant tendencies.

For obvious reasons, Javier and Horacio had opted to stay behind. Not wishing to invite prying eyes and probing questions from a close-knit community who made it their business to know everyone else’s business.

Whilst most appeared pleasant on the surface, he’d attended enough judgemental sermons as a child and overheard his fair share of gossip as an adult to know they stuck rigidly to the idea of ‘traditional family values.’ It was bad enough when he had parted ways with Lorraine, which in their eyes was tantamount to marrying her one week and divorcing her the next. So, he dreaded to think what they would have to say about him and Horacio.

Instead, at Horacio’s request, they had gathered together every candle from every drawer or cupboard they could locate across the ranch and decorated the guesthouse with them. Some were planted in old jam jars, whilst others were nestled in glassware from the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly a light show to rival those Horacio had grown up entranced by along the streets of Medellín each Día de las Velitas. But it fitted perfectly with the rustic décor of the ranch.

Horacio lay on the sofa with Javier slotted between his legs and reclining against his chest. Both were careful not to squash their injuries, that although were healing nicely now, still needed to be treated with care.

The fire at their feet illuminated the room in a flickering halo. It transformed from dark burnt orange to a warm white glow and back again as the flames danced over a bed of charred mesquite wood. The smoke dispersed a sweet aroma that took Javier back to his Pop’s summer barbecues which he hosted for all of the farms in the local area.

Luna, Sol and Leo had been making themselves at home in their guesthouse a lot more since Steve’s and Connie’s departure. And since they were out in the open with Chucho. Javier no longer needed to give the illusion that he was sleeping in his old bedroom, so he had moved in properly with Horacio.

Sol and Leo were curled up asleep on the two rocking chairs opposite the sofa, whilst Luna lay on the rug by Javier and Horacio. She, too, dozed, enjoying the heat of the fire and occasionally raising her head; for attention or to check on them, they were never quite sure.

“The candles were a good shout, by the way,” Javier said as he lit up a cigarette, his admittedly feeble efforts to quit all but abandoned.

Horacio smiled against the muscle of Javier’s broad shoulder. His chin had made a home there for the last few minutes, but he sat up to take a drag. “Thanks. I know it’s a couple of weeks late for Día de las Velitas, but it’s just a little reminder of back home. My sister and I used to make our own lanterns. We’d spend hours on them with other kids from our neighbourhood. Everyone always came out for it, even my father. Christmas was one of the few times he was happy to leave his work at work.”

Javier had seen such displays in the years he’d lived in Colombia. He’d always admired the locals’ dedication, even throughout the disorder on their doorsteps. “We used to do similar for Las Posadas. One year I had to be Joseph, and I hated every second of it. Well, until we got to the piñatas, obviously. Then I stopped complaining.”

“Did they fill yours with cigarettes and whiskey or something?”

Javier’s shoulders shook despite himself. “Fuck you.” He punctuated his retort by deliberately exhaling a plume of smoke in Horacio’s direction. “You’re just as bad as me.”

“I blame you for the whiskey.”

“You should be thanking me for steering you away from aguardiente.”

Horacio rolled his eyes. “Gringos to the rescue, as usual.”

“I’m part-Mexican, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Guess I must be in love with the Mexican part of you, then.” The words tumbled from Horacio’s mouth before he could stop himself, and they hung awkwardly in the smoke-filled space between them. He hadn’t repeated the sentiment since he’d returned from Madrid, not wanting to make Javier feel obliged to echo it back.

Javier still had his back to Horacio and stayed quiet for a moment, only the rhythmic snoring of the dogs and gentle crackles from the fire filling the silence. “Can you believe it’s three years since Tolú?”

Horacio had no idea what he was expecting to hear, but for some reason, it wasn’t that. “You remembered.”

“No need to sound so surprised. I thought the candles were fitting for a double celebration.” He turned from the fireplace, their gaze meeting, and the flames and candlelight shimmering across their pupils like rosary beads made of glass. A stark contrast to the protective cover of darkness they had hidden under in Tolú three years ago. “Happy Anniversary.”

Horacio couldn’t control the smile he pressed into Javier’s lips as he bridged the gap between them. He cupped Javier’s face with both hands before stroking a thumb down his jaw, tracing it over his moustache and across the subtle pout of his bottom lip. “Happy Anniversary.”

Fervent kisses soon became exploring caresses, hands and mouths indulging in pleasure, reverence and worship. An acknowledgement of all that they had withstood together, and a celebration of how far they had come. A commitment to the future, no matter how uncertain it was in the short term, trusting that they would always be each other’s home regardless of where they ended up.

They were silent promises and unspoken vows, pledged to each other again and again. Over and over in countless ways, day in, day out. Undertakings they would need to cherish and cling to in the face of adversity.

Light at the end of the tunnel that they had to hold on to when Javier received the call they were expecting in the New Year. When for once, he wasn’t following Horacio, and Horacio couldn’t follow him.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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grewlikefancyflowers · 3 years

Text

JC’s deeply rooted resentment of WWX, JFM’s parenting, and the inevitability of the falling out of the ‘Yunmeng bros’.

In discussion of the breakdown of JC and WWX’s relationship, their falling out is often regarded as a mutual failing on both sides to properly communicate and maintain their relationship. I’m making the case here that their falling out was a foregone conclusion from the start, and in no part due to the actions of Wei Wuxian.

This is because YZY has instilled in JC the idea that JFM dislikes him, something he believes before WWX arrives in Lotus Pier, JC already feels inferior, thus as soon as potential competition for JFM’s attention comes along in the form of WWX, JC resents him, believes JFM prefers him, and looks for reasons to justify this.

Summarising their very first interactions - from chapter 71 - WWX arrives at LP, sees JC with his puppies and is so terrified that he refuses to come down from JFM’s arms the entire day. The second day, JFM gives JC’s puppies away.

Now, I would like to think that no one seriously believes that this is an act of favouritism, but I have seen this case being made so I just want to make clear that WWX is obviously traumatised by his previous interactions with dogs. After trying for a whole day to comfort WWX, with no success, JFM does not exactly have any other choice than to give the puppies away, WWX cannot be expected to live in constant terror in the place that is supposed to be his home.

Consequently, ‘This angered Jiang Cheng so much that he threw a big tantrum. No matter how much Jiang FengMian comforted him gently, telling him that they should ‘be good friends’, he refused to talk to Wei WuXian.’

JC’s reaction is fairly understandable for an 8 year old. JFM comforts JC, and does not treat him callously or dismiss him, however it takes several days until JC will even talk to WWX.

When JC does start to warm up to him, JFM thinks it’d be a good idea for them to have a sleepover, JC is on the ‘verge of agreeing’ to this, which JFM is overjoyed by - so much so that he picks WWX up.

This is not an example of favouritism, JFM doesn't repeatedly give affection to WWX and not JC, he holds him twice - the first instance being purely because WWX was too terrified to leave his arms, the second being this one. These are the only two times where JFM is described as being affectionate towards WWX, JC is still in the lead on this count. But JC interprets this as JFM preferring WWX.

This results in the JC shutting WWX out at night.

At that time, Wei WuXian didn’t know what Jiang Cheng was mad about at all. After a pause, he replied, “I didn’t steal anything. It’s Uncle Jiang who told me to sleep with you.”

Hearing that he was still bringing up his father, almost as if he was purposely showing off, Jiang Cheng’s eyes reddened as he yelled, “Go away! If I see you again, I’ll call a bunch of dogs to bite you!”

This is the important part - JC sees WWX in the worst possible light, and rarely thinks of WWX as a person outside of how he directly impacts JC - he concludes that WWX is purposefully antagonising him, this is a trend that continues well into adulthood.

Then, when WWX flees LP after JC threatens him with dogs, JYL tells JC to find people to help search for him. However,

‘If any other disciple or servant learned about this and told Jiang FengMian, after Jiang FengMian knew how he threw Wei WuXian’s sheets out and made him hurt his leg, Jiang FengMian would definitely dislike him even more. This was also why he only dared chase after them alone and didn’t get anyone else.’

JC has obviously behaved wrongly here, and JFM would be right to scold him for it, but JC interprets this as JFM disliking him. We haven’t seen anything to suggest that JFM actually dislikes JC, he always treats him quite gently, actually. But JC is already at the conclusion that JFM dislikes him, and twists events to suit this - if his dad scolds him for misbehaving, it’s because he dislikes him. This pattern repeats after the Xuanwu Cave arc too.

This is because Madam Yu has ingrained into him the idea that JFM dislikes him, because he’s her son. This has nothing to do with WWX - because both her and JC already believe that JFM dislikes JC prior to WWX’s arrival - she only sees him as additional fuel to use.

The only other person who mentions JFM supposedly treating WWX better than JC is JZX. I’m sure it's a coincidence that he’s the son of YZY’s best friend.

‘“Doesn’t he treat you better than treating his own child or something?”’

Note the ‘or something’, - JZX doesn’t seem to know this with certainty - he’s repeating what others have said, despite having visited Lotus Pier several times (as stated in ch.69), JZX hasn’t seen evidence for himself that JFM prefers WWX.

‘“Maybe I should’ve let you hit him, while I stand aside and watch. This way, Uncle Jiang might not need to come. Oh well, I really couldn’t hold back!”’

We know that WWX doesn’t see JFM as favouring him - so what does he mean by this? Well, LQR has had it out for WWX from the moment they met, and has already sent a letter to JFM complaining of his behaviour - at this point WWX doesn’t know that this results in them breaking the JZX/JYL engagement either, so he’s probably purely thinking that LQR summoned JFM to CR to discuss WWX’s repeated offenses. JC hasn’t done anything to invoke LQR’s ire (or rather, he’s gotten away with everything he has done), so WWX thinks that if JC fought JZX, it would not have been treated so seriously, compared to WWX, who has repeatedly misbehaved.

Contrary to fanon interpretation, WWX is not oblivious to other people’s feelings, he’s very empathetic, and additionally understands JC very well. He doesn’t see how JC is feeling here, because JC’s feelings are just so illogical...

‘Although it was only Wei WuXian’s casual words, he held mixed feelings, because he knew that this wasn’t a lie.

Jiang FengMian had never hurried to another sect in one day for anything related to him, no matter if the issue was good or bad, large or small.

Never.’

Once again, JC’s at the conclusion that JFM dislikes him, he twists events to support this. He’s looking at this scenario very strangely - JFM didn’t rush to CR because he likes WWX, he was called there by LQR, to discuss JYL’s engagement with JZX. Secondly, we’re never given any examples of scenarios where JC does anything to warrant JFM rushing over. As far as we know, they never even stay with other sects. Knowing JC’s personality, his dislike of doing anything to rock the boat, it’s extremely unlikely that he’s ever done anything to warrant JFM rushing over like this. Moreover, it’s a bizarre thing to be jealous of, WWX is in trouble, he’s not on the receiving end of positive attention from JFM.

JC’s flawed reasoning is once again illustrated after the Xuanwu Cave arc...

‘Jiang Cheng’s expression was complicated after he had finished listening.’

This is Jiang Cheng’s reaction after WWX credits LWJ with killing the tortoise of slaughter - this is before JFM congratulates him. Before JFM says anything, JC is purely resentful about WWX having done something heroic, more so, resentful that WWX is willingly to let LWJ take most of the credit - he’s annoyed about this, most likely feeling that WWX is rubbing in his face that he doesn’t need the recognition that JC so desperately craves.

‘Jiang FengMian nodded and said, “You did well.”

Killing a giant 400-year-old beast at only 17 was way beyond what one would call ‘doing well.’’

JFM knows about JC’s… issues, he knows how he’ll react to WWX’s receiving recognition, he likely purposefully downplays his praise to avoid upsetting him. (Who’s really being favouritised? Lol)

But, even to this, JC reacts badly, he lashes out at WWX, once more interpreting him in the worst possible way.

‘Jiang Cheng hissed, “Too fucking bad, then. You shouldn’t have been so damn stubborn and you shouldn’t have cared so damn much about such a trivial thing. If you’d never moved in the first place –”’

JC’s response is to basically tell him the entire incident was his fault. Which is objectively not true - WWX only gets involved in the conflict after it has already started, and then he acts deliberately to try to end it, rather than impulsively fighting. He also starts to say that WWX should have left their allies - LWJ and JZX - to die. This is where JFM cuts him off, and tells him it’s not appropriate to say such things - he’s not scolding him harshly, JC is not being unfairly treated here, he’s done wrong, and JFM is trying to teach him why, you know, parenting. But JC, and YZY, take this to mean JFM dislikes JC.

JFM tries to teach JC about the Jiang sect’s motto once more - this is of course, not just about the motto, but about the values that JFM wants to instill in him, as a parent.

This is where Madam Yu arrives.

“Yes, he doesn’t understand, but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands?!”

Of course, what she says is nonsensical, it does matter to JFM that JC understands the motto, that’s why he’s trying to teach him. If he did not care, he would have given in already.

This is further supported...

‘Jiang Cheng’s appearance and temperament all resembled his mother’s. Jiang FengMian guided him from childhood, but no matter how much he tried, he still couldn’t change his son’s nature. As such, it always seemed like he disliked his son.’

JFM has never been dismissive of JC just because he’s YZY’s son, he’s always tried to teach him, but JC always had his mother’s nature - YZY’s nature being harsh, standoffish, foul tempered, with no care for others - Note that is says it ‘seems’ like he dislikes his son, solely because he’s trying to teach him to be a better person. He has good reason for doing so - as a kid, JC never had friends, he doesn’t seem to as an adult either, he only has Jin Ling, whom he pushes away with his foul temper. JFM was just trying to raise JC to being an even-tempered person, capable of functioning in society, which is kind of what parents are supposed to do. But once more, this is taken as dislike.

Note that during JC’s outburst, every single thing JC claims about what JFM thinks of him, he’s parroting what YZY has said, none of these points have any actual evidence.

The next point to consider is how JC blames WWX for the fall of LP, despite it objectively not being his fault - JC knows this too.

‘In his heart, Jiang Cheng knew clearly that back in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter at Dusk-Creek Mountain, even if Wei WuXian hadn’t saved Lan WangJi, the Wen Sect would have found some reason to come over sooner or later’

Even if WWX’s actions did prompt the Wens to act sooner than they otherwise might have - coming sooner or later would have made no difference at all because YZY outright stated she had no intention of preparing for an attack, even after WWX suggests they should, and JFM was still going to the Wens asking for their swords back - they were still uselessly trying to suck up to the Wens, thinking it would save them.

Despite knowing deep down that WWX was not to blame - he still uses it to fuel his resentment of WWX, because the resentment was there from the beginning, the only uncertainty is the means he uses to justify it.

During the ancestral hall confrontation - he uses this excuse again.

‘Jiang Cheng responded contemptuously, “You really are forgetful. What’s called a shameful person? Let me remind you. Just because you decided to be a hero and save this Second Young Master Lan, the entire Lotus Pier including my father and mother was buried. If this wasn’t enough, after the first time, you still want a second time, even wanting to save Wen-dogs and implicating my sister and her husband, how noble of you. Even nobler, you are so magnanimous to bring these two to Lotus Pier. Allowing the Wen-dog to stand at the front of my gates and letting Second Young Master Lan offer joss sticks, purely trying to antagonize me.’

Obviously, WWX did none of these things to antagonise JC, in fact he was going through a complex emotional journey of realising that he has feelings for LWJ, and that LWJ probably has feelings for him too, he doesn’t go to the ancestral shrine to mess around - he’s ‘introducing’ LWJ to JFM, YZY, and JYL, because he’s thinking about marrying him.

The problem is, JC never really sees WWX as a person, WWX has always been more of a concept - someone to compare himself to, the reason his father doesn’t like him, the reason his mother uses to berate him. It doesn’t occur to JC that WWX is a person outside of what he is to JC, and he is therefore incapable of empathising with what WWX might be feeling right now, instead the only possible conclusion is that he’s antagonising JC.

He follows the same line of thinking when WWX defects with the Wens. JC knows what he and WWX owe them, in fact JC owes them, far, far more than what WWX does - it was his parents whose bodies Wen Ning retrieved, and it was him who WN had to rescue from LP. But JC thinks, he can get away with not paying this debt, so why should he? JC is selfish, he doesn’t understand why WWX would want to help others when he doesn’t have to, so JC concludes, this is WWX showing off, ‘playing the hero’.

Because from the moment they met, JC has never tried to know WWX for who he is, whatever WWX does, JC interprets in a negative light - when WWX tries to get LWJ’s attention, (despite it being painstakingly obvious that WWX has a crush on him) JC concludes that WWX is messing around foolishly, without reason (parroting the untrue things YZY says about WWX always seeking trouble). When WWX wants to help people, he’s playing the hero, one upping JC. JC only ever thinks of WWX in relation to himself - when WWX disappears for three months, JC’s immediate complaint is that WWX kept him waiting, that he’s put JC out by making him search for him. You could argue that JC was just worried about WWX, and not able to express it - and on some level that’s true. But there’s a very intentional contrast between how LWJ and JC react to WWX’s return - LWJ is worried about WWX, about how his cultivation method is affecting him, moreover, WWX is very clearly not himself. JC, however, does not care for that - he only sees WWX, and modao, as a tool for killing Wens.

It takes almost nothing for JGS to manipulate JC into turning against WWX in ch.73 - he readily believes every negative thing JGS says about WWX, despite being called out directly for lying by LWJ. JGS talks as if he is a servant who has forgotten his place, unlike JYL, JC does not defend him. He refuses to speak up for him - he claims that no one will - yet LWJ and MianMian did. JC didn’t turn on WWX because it was impossible for him to speak up - he was living proof that WQ and WN did not support the Wen sect in the war, he drops him the moment he can because he’s resented him from the beginning.

Another interesting tidbit about JC just fundamentally not understanding who WWX is as a person, is that he only blames LWJ for the Xuanwu Cave incident - not JZX, despite him behaving no differently to how LWJ does. This is probably because he realises WWX’s fixation on LWJ, and supposes that this is the reason that WWX got involved in the conflict. But of course, WWX would have done something whether it was solely JZX, or just a random person.

Taking all this into account, it seems almost inevitable that WWX and JC would fall out eventually, because JC was, from the start, looking for reasons to dislike WWX, he turns against him at the first opportunity he got. For the ‘Yunmeng bros’ to have a healthy relationship, JC would simply have to fix his entire personality.

JC is unable to see WWX as a person, right up until the very end of the novel - when he recalls how he impulsively put himself at risk in order to save WWX. Finally, for the first time, JC is able to understand why WWX stood up for others in Xuanwu Cave, why he helped the Wens, because JC did the same thing, put himself on the line for WWX, probably the only time JC has ever acted so selflessly. And this is why he lets him go, he lets go of the things he blamed WWX for. For the first time, he is able to empathise with WWX, he understands that WWX was never ‘playing the hero’, seeking praise or recognition, he understands that WWX helps people purely because he feels in the moment that it’s the right thing to do. This is what enables him to finally let go of WWX.

I’m always a bit baffled when people claim mxtx never gave JC a happy ending, because this is his happy ending - him being able to realise that WWX never wronged him - when he finally lets go of this, he can live freely.

#mdzs #jc wank #mdzs meta #jiang cheng

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zodiacrant · 4 years

Text

💛Astro Notes💛

(All about Fixed signs)

(These may or may not apply to you, please keep an open mind and take it as entertainment rather than life changing facts. Please credit me if you’re going to use my work, or ask me beforehand.)

💛Fixed Sun and Rising are the most notable. You can definitely tell when some is a Taurus, Leo, Scorpio or an Aquarius Sun. In the rising it over powers the qualities of the Sun when it comes to how you come off.

💛Fixed Moons are double edged swords. On one hand they give the person endurance, patience and strong emotional capabilities. On the other hand, it incites overreacting and overthinking, running things over and over to the point of burning the mind out before physically achieving anything. This is why many fixed moons are labeled “lazy”.

💛Taurus and Leo represent the good things in life, food, money, clothes, art, fame, kids, the home, the superficial. Ruled by the Sun and Venus, respectively, they’re the rose to their opposites thorn. Whichever houses they reside in they bring security and confidence to but it can quickly get to their heads and turn into ego.

💛Scorpio and Aquarius on the other hand represents the other side of life. Fighting, cruelty, freedom, sex and death. Ruled by Uranus, Pluto and Mars, these signs speak of the grimmer side of life, some would argue its real life with no filter where we have to fight for our rights (Scorpio and Aquarius) in order to enjoy it (Taurus and Leo). Both signs bring resilience to whichever house and/or placement giving the person an edge in that part of life. Although, they’re hard to fool both signs are prone to destroy what they have built just so no one can do it first.

💛Fixed dominants are really stubborn and rigid when it comes to their ideals but they’re also facts based and would change their mind eventually.

💛This can be seen alot with Gen Z (Majority are Aquarius dominants) and Millennials (Strong effects of Scorpio Pluto) where they fight tooth and nail for something only to realize they were wrong the whole damn time.

💛Scorpio Venus is one hell of a mystery. They’re so timid in public but are very sexual in reality. They don’t see it but everything they watch is erotic or filled with sexual themes.

💛Houses that are in Fixed signs indicate deviance and possibly using sex and/or sexuality to get what you want.

💛I personally find Leos to be very attractive

💛Empty Fixed houses give a clear perspective on the house’s theme. It doesn’t necessarily mean that the person is fully confident in that part but it is easy for them to get over any obstacles or dilemmas.

💛The oppoiste is true, especially for Fixed house stelliums and those with Sun and/or Moon residing under one. Although, an indication of power, assurance, confidence, abundance and energy, it may not be easily obtained. Fixed houses can be like traps at times, they lure you in with all the money, fame, and pleasure you desire but the price you pay is your freedom and growth.

💛Even though they’re stated as “the biggest enemies with zero compatibility” in text book zodiac, but I know alot of Taurus and Aquarius married couples.

💛I am not sure the reason why but some of the biggest and most influential people throughout history were Fixed Suns. For better or worse

💛Aquarius Moons have the biggest contrast from one another. I never met one that was like another Aquarius Moon. This Moons works low key, hard to identify and explain, and even harder for the individual to analyze and digest.

💛Leo Suns talk about themselves alot more than other Leo placements. It’s not necessarily in the “all about me” tone but rather they always have to relate things back to them to let you know that they understand. Or they just love talking themselves and I got it wrong.

💛Taurus Venus is like if Taurus and Libra were a single Venusian sign. They have the class and beauty of Taurus and the youthful playfulness of Libra.

💛People with Fixed placements gravitate towards people with Fixed placements. I have yet to see otherwise.

💛Before you fight with a Fixed Mars remember that they fight for them to not lose, not for them to win. They will do everything so that you lose.

💛Scorpio Mercury is the ULTIMATE booksmart but damn are they really lost when it comes to people and the streets.

💛Fixed 10th house are more driven and career oriented than Cardinal signs. This is because they use success as way of proving themselves to the world, the hater, the doubters, their parents, that one person that looked at them weird. Simply put, they will be successful just to prove you wrong.

💛Taurus Moon is the earthy, easy going, chill Taurus that smokes weed and loves nature and colors like brown and green that people keep talking about. As a Taurus I can tell you that I am not one of those things nor have I ever liked them.

💛Fire dominant Scorpios are one of the most pretentious people I have ever met. They’re so fake deep and got it all “figured out”. Not a cute look babe.

💛All the people with Aquarius in the 8th that I have met just hate sex and talking about sexual things. It really weirds them out, which I get. Shit is weird if you think about it.

💛Aquarius Mercury can flay people’s skin with their tongue. They get creative with their insults to say the least.

💛Leo in the 11th is status obsessed. You can’t be their friend if you don’t “match” them.

💛Fixed Suns and dominants are super bougie. They love everything extra with a side of extravagance and add triple too much.

💛People with a Fixed Sun and Moon combination are victims of their big egos. They could really fall into delusions of grace and power having done absolutely nothing in real life

💛I have noticed that Leos don’t like it when someone has something in common with them. It’s as if whenever someone relates to them, they’re no longer “unique”, “different” or “special”

💛Fixed in 12th house experience crashing highs and lows. They never learn or attune to something unless they hit the rock hard cold bottom.

💛Leo Chiron is a hidden fame indicator. Many with this placement are child stars

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furiousgoldfish · 3 years

Text

I'm supposed to start a part-time job, and I've never had an actual, regular job; the premise had been terrifying to me since I've been 11. It's been presented to me as a completely impossible feat – every single time I'd try to get a job, I'd get sabotaged.

I've been told over and over again that I am incapable of anything, worthless in every sense, unhireable, bound to mess up the simplest jobs, I couldn't do anything, nobody would hire me, it was impossible for me to work, I was a lost cause, I'd never be independent, or able to survive without family. Once I finally got my confidence up and was 18, I said I'd look for a job, only to get crushed by a well aimed 'You? What can you do?' followed with a fit of laughter from my mother. At that point it was enough to destroy any confidence I had spent weeks putting together. I believed she knew the truth about me, more than I did.

Looking back, it feels so insane to think actual parents would repeatedly tell these things to their kid, in a time where a job is the only possible survival for all humans. Were they saying all these things because I truly was, a lost case, the worst most useless person, from the age 11? Of course not. If I had been so utterly incapable, they wouldn't have to say anything, it'd be their job to help me to get capable, so that I could survive. So why would they fill their very hardworking kid's head with all this 'you won't ever get a job and you're worthless to even try'?

So I could never leave. Because I was next to no cost to be kept alive in their house (they didn't tell me that, of course, I was told I was a huge burden), and they wanted to have a half-alive scapegoat at home at all times to abuse, to force to work with no credit or compensation, and of course, to keep all of the secrets of what they did to me safe. If I'm in their house, I'm too terrified to tell anyone. Any hint of me feeling brave enough to try to gain income meant I was a step away from leaving so this had to be crushed in the most brutal way possible. But, that's only half of what they've done to keep me from working.

I've been working for my parents, ever since I was 6, of course I didn't know this, it was presented as 'you can't live if you don't work' until I understood I'd do what I'm told, or I will be left for dead. It was all manual labour, I wasn't allowed to learn a skill. I lost most of my memories of it, because it was accompanied by, well, torture. While working, I was humiliated, screamed at, beaten, injured, forced to do the work with false instructions so I could be punished for it, and of course, at the end I was told that all my work was worthless and it would have been better if I had done nothing. I wasn't allowed to back out or stop working, because remember, death threats. And it was a sure way to invoke violence, regardless of me being sick, injured, mourning, starving, distressed, devastated. I wasn't allowed to say no to work. I had no right to live if I did that.

Now that.. left a trace. I could tell, since 11, that I'd be too scared to work for anyone after that. It's been a lot of years of additional work abuse (child abuse while child is forced into labour under a death threat?) since then, so after all that, I couldn't work anymore. The mere idea of someone telling me to do something would invoke terror, rage, paranoia, panic, expectation, of violence, humiliation and death threats. I simply had no other experiences for my brain to connect it to anything other than that. Work and trauma became one and the same. I truly became incapable to work. Courtesy of my parents.

At that time I'd already done so much work, I've had physical symptoms of a person who damaged their body with work, my back hurt, my muscles were spent and aching, I was spent in my 20s from manual labor like people get at their 70s. Only I had nothing to show for it. All benefits went to my parents. I got broken and barely escaped with my life.

So, I'm still alive now, and I've been trying to recover from this for the last 5 years, feels funny when I write it like that, doesn't it? Decades of abuse, but I expected 5 years would settle this. It wouldn't, of course.

I've received some job training, and my brain was completely blank during it because, it still doesn't feel safe to be aware of reality in a work-related situation. My brain did the best it could to protect me – and dissociated the hell out of that one. Ever since, I've been feeling the effects of work abuse on my body stronger, heavier than before. All my muscles hurt, I'm too exhausted to move, I hear screaming in my head, I have a looming feeling of 'I have to quit or I will die' and also there's a voice repeating 'I can't do this, I'm not capable' in my head. It sounds and feels bad, it's actually next to unbearable, but I know my body is doing this to protect me. If I work, even part time, I will get triggered to the decades of abuse, I will be forced to re-live it. I'm not in state of mind that could safely handle this. It's a risk. If I manage to take this, maybe my brain will somehow, mercifully, create new connections between working and being okay, having financial safety for the first time since I existed. Maybe it can be done. But it will hurt, and it will put me thru hell.

I'm mad they did this to me. Nobody deserved this. In a world where we all depend on a job, to have it be this painful to have one? It shouldn't be this hard. It shouldn't destroy me like this. I shouldn't be put thru this, nobody should. I shouldn't have had to work as a child to deserve to be kept alive. I shouldn't have been put thru such traumatic work situations I now find it unbearable to handle. I shouldn't have my entire organism thrown into panic and death fear at the idea of work. I'm naturally hardworking. I should already have worked normally for years, saved up. If I had been brought up normally, I wouldn't be in financial stress and poverty, I'd be safe! I wouldn't be scared of whether I will recover fast enough to survive. I wouldn't be in traumatic exhaustion. I would be okay.

If you have endured any of the traumatic work situations by the hands of your parents, know that a crime is being committed against you, and the consequences are painful. While underage, you do not need to work to deserve to eat, or sleep, or stay alive. You do not need to suffer abuse while working in order to have human rights. It's your parents responsibility to provide you with 100% of your resources, and if they claim you owe it to them, they're lying. They had unprotected sex, they had a kid, it's absolutely none of your fault, and you do not have to pay for it. Parents do not have the right of exploiting children for work. And when they give themselves this right, it's abuse.

#trauma #child labor #personal #child abuse #cptsd #long term abuse #tw specific mentions of blackmail #child torture #abuse and consequences #complex ptsd #just writing this gave me trauma episodes

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thejustmaiden · 3 years

Text

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

#anti yashahime #anti sessrin #sesshomaru is rin's dad #papamaru #hogosha 💖#the sequel may not be canon but sunrise can still burn in hell

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ghostly-shenanigans-in-progress · 3 years

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BNHA X DP Crossover HCs

After the long wait and finals, here are my ideas for all the quirks/occupations and other concepts I devised for the DP characters in the BNHA universe. This was just for fun and for inspiration towards others interested in this crossover au in general.

Tagging the people that were looking forward to this post based on the replies: @qoinq-qhost, @floralflowerpower, @tgfangirl4eva @goodfish-bowl, @whitehairglowinggreeneyedcrush and more.

Anyways, happy reading, folks!

Mr. Lancer

Hero name: Mr. Scholastic

Quirk: Bookworm

Involves his iconic usage of literature titles & quotes for swears to become abilities corresponding to the novel’s contents/themes. Course, he is limited to only books he has read and can quote accurately. Additionally, his voice gets very raspy past two or three quotes as well.

Occupation: Homeroom Teacher for Class 1- A; He’s very dedicated to his new students and teaching the fundamentals of being a pro hero and more! Course, I don’t think his chamomile tea with a wedge of lemon is enough to help him relax from his students (*cough* Danny, Tucker and Poindexter) from their antics at times.

Danny

Hero name: Phantom

Quirk: Ghost core (Ok, @coffeecakecafe had the best name for this one gotta give credit here)

Able to do anything a ghost is perceived to do. Go through walls, disappear and fly. This is a one of a kind quirk as it was obtained from Danny’s old quirk being altered by a machine his parents made that would repurpose/alter an individual’s quirk based on their past family members' own metahuman genetics.

Danny is doing his best and trying to understand his new quirk without causing too much attention to himself while doing so but it seems like its been doing the opposite as of late. Thankfully, he won’t be doing it alone with all his classmates around to help him!

Sam

Hero Name: Black Dahlia

Quirk: Overgrown

Able to create any plant that she knows the biological makeup and content of in almost any environment. However, it is important for her to drink lots of nutrient rich water and take in enough sun if she plans to create larger versions of these plants.

Tucker

Hero name: Tech Master

Quirk: Tech Core

Located on his chest/heart area is a special energy core capable of powering electronics at a rate faster than anything made-man could ever hope to achieve. As a kid, Tucker would tinker away in his family’s garage on a suit that would harness his power to the fullest extent and lead a new era of support tech in the hero world.

Valerie

Hero name: Red Huntress

Quirk: Electromagnetism (Someone I’ve been trying to find their post on my blog had posted this idea and I fell in love with it ever since)

She’s like Static Shock but with a dash of magenta/ruby lasers she can create through focusing her electromagnetism through her finger tips. She is an expert with her quirk and has the best handle of her quirk than most of her peers. She is the most frequent visitor in the support equipment workshop next to Tucker, Poindexter and Danny. It’s how she built the hoverboard she has in the show that utilizes her electromagnetic abilities for both offensive and defensive maneuvers. (Also, I enjoy the idea that Bullet is Val’s uncle on her mom’s side and is her biggest supporter alongside her dad, Damien Gray).

Jazz

Quirk: Serenity

Helps calm individuals and give them a sense of safety/security when they’re around her in a 10 feet radius. Though, anyone out of range cannot be affected by her quirk and she needs to be conscious in order to use it.

She planned on becoming a pro hero but felt her powers were best suited for her dream profession as a psychologist. She has used her quirk a lot when Danny was overwhelmed with his studies prior to UA. Course, a phone call and sibling chat over the phone certainly does the job for Danny now when it comes to preparing material for exams. (Course, its up to you guys to decide)

Dash

Hero name: Rager

Quirk: Strength Magnification

Improves his physique and stamina by a large percentage for a set amount of time. Needs to be careful of how much/long he magnifies his body or else his body will become immensely sore.

Kwan

Hero name: Rallier

Quirk: Team Rally (50/50)

Able to duplicate himself 3-4 times while being able to power-up allies’ quirks or stamina with a rally chant to help the team. The more duplicates there are the rally effect multiplies/stacks on the individual but it can lead to dangerous outcomes for their quirk output.

Kwan is the class representative for 1-A, he’s the best at the job and was more than thrilled to be the one leading his class in more ways than one.

Paulina

Hero name: Enchantress

Quirk: Charm

If the opponent is flustered by her taunts or flirting, their vision will become altered and start seeing things that are not there. It works better on men than women and the opponent can snap out of it with enough willpower or if they’re not interested in her.

Star

Hero name: Ms. Meteorite

Quirk: Comet

Similar to Gran Torino’s Jet quirk except faster and she can create an explosive impact on where she lands. Similar to a meteorite landing on earth, she also learns to use this as a long distance move by punching fast enough as she descends to create wind pressure punches.

Poindexter

Hero name: Tex (like in Tex Avery; Danny gave him the idea!)

Quirk: Slapstick

His appearance is black and white just like an old timey cartoon character as well as having the durability and cartoon powers of one. However, his quirk can only work as long as what he does with it is funny in the circumstance it’s used for. Sort of like “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” rules in a sense.

Sidney is part of Class 1-A just saying, I don’t care, this is Poindexter’s time to shine here to be the coolest/funniest person in the class. Also, Tucker’s most loyal friend/tester for new support items.

Wes Weston

Hero name: Vigilance

Quirk: Deduction

He is able to deduct people’s identities to flaws/weak points for him to use against them and exploit against problems.

Class 1-B Representative and the most annoying/terrifying person that Danny has dealt with in his life. He was able to figure out that Danny’s quirk is not his own or more so that it's not natural and takes every opportunity to state this regardless if anyone is listening or not.

Amber Mclain

Hero Name: Ember

Quirk: Fiery voice (50/50)

Her quirk uses the vibrations in her sining voice to conduct intense heat waves onto opponents or utilize to rumble the structures around here and even put out the flames from her quirk. Its like a combination of Present Mic and Endevours quirk but it leaves her with a strained or inflamed vocal cords with overuse.

Third year student or an upcoming rock star that has certainly gain huge popularity after her song “Remember” was a nationwide hit amongst the younger generation. She’s striving to be the top hero while making her next hit to become the 1# song on the listings.

Dani

Hero name: Phantwo (lol jk; unsure what her name would be)

Quirk: Poltergeist

Similar to Danny’s quirk “Ghost”, except she has the additional ability to melt herself to a slimy puddle and use her ectoplasmic slime to trap or surprise opponents.

Clockwork

Hero Name: Clockwork

Quirk: Time Keeper

Clockwork’s quirk allows him to stop time for 5 to 15 minutes and be able to rewind it in the same amount of time. It can be one to multiple objects as long as he touches them in order to interact with them.

Principle of UA in this au. He’s quite a reserved man but still manages to visit and congregate with students throughout the school during lunch period.

Flynn Fenton/Flynn Walker

Hero Name: The Green Knight

Quirk: Mineralization

His quirk allows him to manipulate the minerals and inorganic materials in the atmosphere to create into crystalized constructs that are almost stronger than diamond. Luckily, the crystals have no value so he doesn’t have to worry about that aspect of his quirk. He does have to worry about his skin becoming dried out as a result of his quirk usage.

Flynn is a third year student that loves to check up on his cousin, Danny, any chance he gets bc of the amount of work he does with his internships.

James Walker (or James W. Hausermann)

Hero name: Warden Wraith

Quirk: Plasma Apparatus

His quirk ionizes the electrolytes in the blood system into plasma. His entire body is composed of plasma giving him his skeletal appearance. He can create plasma chains, teleport from point A to B and more as long as he focuses and has enough energy at use. Course, he can have minor to severe dehydration and imbalance in his electrolyte levels from overuse.

Occupation: CEO of an infrastructure security company/Provisional License Examiner just like Gang Orca.The ghost prison guards become his backup/helpers for the exam phases. (They’re just trained stuntmen with combat or military experience for the occasion).

Also, I like to think Walker has kids in this au who are in the Class 1-A group; they’re not hard to spot they take after their father with their skeletal complexion.

Skulker

Villain name: Quirk Hunter

Quirk: Tracker

The moment Skulker makes eye contact with his target he will be able to hunt them down and find them anywhere no matter how good they are at covering their tracks. He can lock on to only one target, but he will be able to know their heart beat, quirk, be able to place a tracking/scent line that only he can see and will lead him to his target’s location. It lasts for over a day or a half.

Occupation: Skulker is known for capturing, info-detailing or “retiring” newcomer pros or specific quirk users for his clients that pay him handsomely for their targets, dead or alive. Thanks to Vlad, Danny was strictly intended to be captured alive by Skulker but sometimes he gets too thrilled by the hunt to not have a memento. Trust me, it's more of a dangerous

Nicolai Technus

Villain Name: Technus

Quirk: Technopathy

A genius in his own right, even if he’s a little crazy, with the best ability possible for a man of science and innovation. As long as he knows the makeup and attributes of the machine, Technus is able to completely repurpose or change a machine’s qualities for offensive and defensive qualities. Whenever that be for a mech suit or hacking a high tech system for entry, he’s able to do it as long as he knows what it is and how it functions. An example is repurposing a slot machine into a submachine gun that shoots coins at the target.

Vlad Masters

Name: Vlad Plasmius

Quirk: Vampire

Can do anything a vampire can supposedly do. However, he was able to manifest an additional aspect of this quirk which is the ability to copy any quirk users ability. Based on the type of blood he ingests decides the amount of time he can use the copied quirk for.

Occupation: CEO of his own hero firm, he is extremely selective with the interns he has that there is a major waitlist to be even consider for Masters Inc. Course, imagine the surprise Danny must of felt when he received an offer from Vlad right off the bat after the Sports festival.

Bruce Guiles (Bullet)

Hero Name: Bullet

Quirk: Sphyraena or Chimera Fish

Able to do anything a barracuda can do or the quirk is a 50/50 mutant quirk in which he has both the traits of a barracuda, Chimaeras and a touch of piranha from his parents being of one of these fish species hence Chimera. Bullet can do anything those fish can do overall but he can’t go too long without hydration from water. Water quality and its oxygen content also affect his abilities by a noticeable percentage but he still remains quite formidable as a quirk user.

Occupation: Captain of a coast guard team, he’s a strict military man with an amazing record of saving people from any disasters both on land and sea. Him and Walker are best buddies ever since they went to school together.

Vortex

Hero Name: Vortex

Quirk: Storm Warning

Vortex can utilize any variation of a natural disaster depending on the environment he’s in. Hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms, you name it he can create it for his use. However, despite his amazing control over his quirk it is still possible for him to create these disasters if he lost control or magnify another pre-existing one if he loses focus.

Occupation: Storm-chaser/Forecaster; His control and knowledge in combating/predicting these natural disasters has led to him to be part of a storm chasing crew and they’re the best in helping disaster prevention teams evacuate citizens as a result.

Petra Eris

Hero name: Pandora

Quirk: Butterfly Effect

Can manipulate or prevent a chaotic event to happen if she was in proximity and present to prevent it to happen. Or even give a little chaos to the opponent to deal with during battle.

One of the top ten heroes and most beloved heroes in the country. She is the best strategist in any team and has a way to predict any event before they happen given the necessity of it for her quirk to work in her favor.

Johnny

Vigilante name: Johnny 13

Quirk: Unlucky

Johnny manifests his bad luck into a shadow that will latch onto opponents and cause unfortunate events to occur more for that individual as a result. However, the shadow cannot exist in complete sunlight; it can only remain if there are already shadows in his general area or it’s nighttime and its effects are strongest at that time obviously.

Occupation: Johnny is the leader of a biker gang or de-facto leader of said biker gang who loves to raise hell and helping folks that need saving whenever he’s around or is up to the task. Kitty tags along with him to help him out of jams and bc she loves him. :3

Kitty

Vigilante name: Kitty

Quirk: Lovesick

Kitty sends a smooch towards her opponent which if it makes contact causes the individual to have nausea or become disoriented for around 10 minutes. It can also have a chance of lasting longer if the individual was sort of infatuated with her regardless of gender.

Pariah Dark

Villain name: King Pariah

Quirk: Ultimate Adaptation

Similar to all for one except with the unpredictability for both the user and opponents. Pariah can manifest any type of quirk needed to defeat anyone that stands in his way both one-on-one and in groups. Course, drawbacks are the learning curve to some of the quirks and that multiple adaptions he utilizes at once will destroy his cells in the process.

Pariah is a former follower of all for one who had unique quirk that All for one augmented to help him succeed if both Shigaraki and Tomura failed in their own conquest for the world. But now Pariah has his own plans to succeed where they failed and become the leader who shapes a new world order with an iron fist.

Frederick Kingsmen

Villain/vigilante name: Fright Knight

Quirk: Burning Energy Infusion

Able to form/infuse objects with his own burning energy life force that is capable of burning or slicing through any in his sight. The sweat he gives off is what provides the material needed to ignite his unnatural flames despite it causing his body to overheat still.

Fright Knight is Pariah’s second-in-command with a loyalty to him as strong as his control over his power. Fright Knight has faced many pro-heros as he carried out the smaller phases of Pariah’s plans and most of them barely came close towards defeating or leaving as much as scratch on the knight.

Rodolfo Gonzalo

Hero name: Wulf

Quirk: Werewolf + Portal creation (50/50?)

Can do anything a werewolf can supposedly do; somehow it allows him to create portals with his claws to locations he has marked with them or visited in the past.

Wulf was abducted on by Pariah’s forces and sent into the Nomu labs for experimentation to force on another quirk and instill complete allegiance to their cause. Course, Wulf broke free as a result of that new additional quirk allowing him to escape their clutches and his previous one helping him survive the endeavor. However, he lost his memories in the process and could only remember his native language, Spanish, and his hero name Wulf.

Overgrown

Villain/vigilante Name: Overgrown

Quirk: Plant Manipulation

Can manipulate any pre-existing plant matter or create new vegetation if water and soil is present for the process or he understand the biological makeup of the plant in question.

Occupation: Pro-hero or eco-terrorist who is tired of humanity from abusing the environment from quirk battles to industries using the land for their own benefits and none others.

That’s all I have for now! I hope this was worth the wait, guys. As well as, inspire ideas for your takes with a DP x BNHA Crossover!

#danny phantom #DP x BHA crossover #dp x bha au #dp x bnha #phandom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #paulina sanchez #dp ember mclain #dp walker #dp bullet #dp kwan #dp mr. lancer #dp dash baxter #dp crossover #dp aus

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scolopendress-tag · 3 years

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I said I'd make a post detailing my kid Asra working for Lucio theory in this post so here it is!

So Let's get STARDED.

So! To start off, how it began. We do know when Asra and Muriel were kids, Lucio came to them each seperately with a deal.

Essentially: work for me, or I'll hurt your friend.

This was the sentiment he repeated for both of them. So, not wanting the other to be harmed, they both agree - unaware of the other's deal.

For Muriel, it was playing heel/excecutioner at the coleseium. For Asra, it was doing... Well, we never know, aside from he worked under Lucio. But that's what we are here to discuss in any case.

Continued under the read more, for the sake of people's dashes.

Now presumably, if I got my timeline right, Asra at this time would've been around 12 or 13. We don't know much about how Asra was when he was younger, other than that he has certainly changed.

It's also worth noting that it's not amiss to say they were both also still homeless at the time, and the hut hadn't come into the play until after.

Asra was still living on the streets.

This all isn't overly important for any of my claims later, but perhaps someone else could make something of it. It does provide us with some framing for the situation as a whole, though.

Now onto Asra's time under Lucio. I don't know that we have any indication of how long it was, but presumably at least a year if not more.

We do also know that Lucio knew who Asra was. Both in that he knew Aisha and Salim had a kid, and that he knew Asra was said kid.

This is bring this up because we know Aisha and Salim were incredibly talented, and likely incredibly powerful. Lucio wouldn't settle for any run of the mill magician or alchemist for the work he needed. So he must've had some idea that Asra may take after that power as well.

To top it off, he also interacted and talked with the dock kids he also used, (two of which would actually later become palace guards,) and seeing as this is seemingly how he learned of Muriel, it's not off to think that this is also how he heard of Asra again to start. The kids knew of Asra's magic, and roughly where he was, and could've even continued talking about both Muriel and Asra to Lucio for unknown amounts of time.

So now Lucio knows that the kid of his two powerful practitioners of magic is not only still around, but taking after them as well.

If Muriel's intimidating size and physical power are what drew Lucio to him, why wouldn't Asra's considerable metaphysical power and talents draw Lucio in as well?

We know how much Lucio loves power, and that he has an interest in magic because of it, as mentioned in the main story. (no ss sorry... If you have one send so I can add. )

Plus, homeless kid in a vulnerable spot. Easy pickings.

That's what I think this whole thing was about, really. It's all power. Though Asra likely didn't have the full scope of power he does in the current game, he was probably still considerably talented, and was only getting better.

What Lucio specifically probably wanted from Asra then was either to be taught how to use that power, to use Asra for things that required it, and/or use his power for entertainment akin to how he used Muriel.

I think out of these however, using him for his power was most likely. Why? (And teaching him now, more on that further down)

(Sorry for bad quality lmao it's a small image. Also thanks to @8-bit-space for showing these to me like months ago. As you can see I can't stop thinking abt it)

These are screenshots from the old prologue. While they're not canon any more, there's reason to believe they still hold merit as to how Lucio feels about Asra.

Two things to me are major here. First is the "powerful potent magic," and how it's the "real deal," equating to a large part of how he views Asra yet again tying back to a heavy interest in his power. Now, you could argue this relates to using his powers in the palace during the plague, but the second point stands out even more to me.

"The one who broke him for me?"

What this implies to me is that Lucio could never quite get all the way through to Asra or control him when he was younger, and he's been dying to do so. He wanted Asra broken, presumably so that he'll become essentially a tool for him to use for his skill and not put up a fight- something Asra likely did as a child.

Because it seems that Lucio for the most part relied on control through fear when it came to Asra, threatening to hurt Muriel, lying to him about how he executed his parents, likely other things as well. But things seem to point to that never quite working like he had hoped.

This could allude to this as well. Though "impossible" is something Asra's been called a few times, namely also by Julian, there's no reason to assume Lucio wasn't also including his work with him as a kid in "always". Impossible to hate could be his draw to Asra for his power, his talent, his skills, the prospect of which I'm sure Lucio found practically mouthwatering. Impossible to love could be his stubbornness or reluctance to do what Lucio wants, always pushing against him or being hard to deal with, both as a kid and during the plague.

And lines like this, where he calls him a coward. I find it hard to relate this to the plague ritual as he was for the most part willingly helping with that, so it could be resenment for when Asra eventually ran off as a kid, unwilling to put up with him any longer, or his reluctance to do certain things for him then in general.

We know, and it has even been mentioned by a character within the canon, that Asra can be incredibly stubborn, to back that up. Plus, he could've been even harder to work with then both being a kid and as I mentioned earlier he has changed from how he was then, so he could've had more spunk to him or such.

This also easily means that what Lucio was trying to get Asra to do then was something Asra was quite obviously opposed to. Being used for his power is already degrading enough, but there could be more to it.

You'll notice in the post that was linked at the top (the reason I'm writing this) I mentioned pushing Asra to his physical limits and magical extremes. This could be one of the reasons for a push back.

If Lucio was having Asra do things for him involving magic, it's not out of pocket to assume he'd practically run him into the ground- I'm sure he really wouldve loved testing the limits of what Asra could REALLY do.

Wether it be huge expendure of power all at once, or tons of smaller things one after the other, it would absolutely take it's toll. We are shown a few times that using magic can exhaust someone, and I don't remember if this is shown in canon ever (tell me if so!) but pushing it even further could definitely lead to other things such as passing out, (Or nosebleeds, for the aesthetic,) alongside likely being incredibly painful and draining, both mentally and physically.

Basically, abusing his powers and the body that commanded them. It's also possible that the stubborness to work with Lucio could also be partially percieved because of this- Lucio taking Asra's literal physical inability to continue as defiance.

Another reason for push back from Asra would be making him do morally compromising things. This is a little more vague, but intimidation is a common headcanon I see for what Lucio made Asra do, and that could tie in here. Other things could be meddling in things and business he shouldn't, but again, it's a vague thing. Make of it what you will. Fucked up stuff all around.

[EDIT - TEACHING LUCIO]

(THANK YOU @tea-tye for showing me these, and credits to @hangedman-magician for the video they came from!!!!!!!)

...I cannot BELIEVE I forgot this, I KNEW I was missing something. Especially when I was fairly certain I remember Lucio being obsessed with the idea of magic. SO, MOVING ON,

There's not terribly much to pick apart here as it's rather direct- Asra saying he has in fact tried to teach Lucio magic. So in my eyes this solidifies that this was a component of Asra's time under Lucio. I still think my points about Lucio treatment (pushing Asra to his limits) stand, as well.

This can also tie in the stubborness mentioned as, well, can you imagine teaching Lucio? Asra backs this up by saying nothing he has ever said stuck with Lucio, and you know how Lucio gets when things don't go his way. He would've blamed his inability to learn on Asra, likely.

Looking to other quotes mentioned: the 'broke him' line still rings to me like he was trying to use Asra in other ways, and the 'coward' line could go either way from refusing to teach Lucio certain things, or refusing to do certain things for Lucio when he was merely being used. The "impossible" line could also go for others, as trying to teach someone like Lucio would've undoubtedly caused some head butting.

This is certainly really exciting and interesting to me as it gives a more complete picture on the exact situation at hand here. I still stay by my reasoning for Lucio simply using Asra as well on top of being taught because it seems highly likely that Lucio would've been too impatient to learn to do certain things himself, and like I said as well, I don't doubt he also just wanted to see what Asra was REALLY capable of. Something he could've saw as a tantalizing insight into the kind of power he could aquire of this kid would just... work with him.

NOW we have a MUCH clearer answer as to what exactly Asra was likely doing under Lucio, or at this point, almost certainly doing. It's a sad picture for Asra of course, but with this you can draw some interesting points as to how he could've been affected by this, as I'm sure it would've left some kind of imprint on him.

Sure it may not have been as traumatic as what Muriel went through, but when you look at it, it's hard to say it DIDN'T leave it's scars. If we consider all the points presented in this post truth we have:

A 12/13 yo homeless child, threatened with his friend's life to work for the Count that he knew was the one responsible for orphaning him and making him homeless in the first place.

Said child believing his parents are still alive, and as we see in Travel at Night, could very likely still be trying to find them. In a situation like Asra's that glimmer of hope probably was a big deal in helping him push on. This may also be a reason he agreed on top of Muriel's safety.

While working under the count, he is told that his parents were executed, no doubt devastating. The manner in which this was mentioned is up for debate, and could affect exactly how it was taken. Options could be Lucio joking or bragging about it (treating it as trivial or an accomplishment), or using it to threaten Asra, (as in I killed your parents, I'll kill you too,) both would work when it comes to controlling by fear.

It is also mentioned that Lucio told him the reason for his parents execution is that they messed up his gold arm, so Asra also has the knowledge that his parents were killed over something so unbelievably trivial.

Being used as a source of power and nothing else, both for teaching and pure work/entertainment, all for the man who killed his parents, day after day.

Being pushed to physically painful and mentally draining limits, expending so much energy that he completely exhausts himself, day after day.

Likely taking all sorts of verbal abuse from Lucio, day after day.

Like mentioned earlier, it seems clear that Lucio wanted to break Asra, so some other form of trying to chip away at his psyche to make him more convenient for Lucio is likely as well.

Those points alone, to yet again a CHILD no less, seem more than enough to cause some traumatic impact, and depending on certain specifics of what exactly went on during that time, it could be worse. I may make a post looking into the long lasting effects of this on Asra, I may not. It would mostly be headcanon regardless. If you want to add your hc relating to this situation though, I'll gladly reblog it!

And now that we are closing out, it's time to revise my summary. So, without further ado, THIS is what I think was going on during this time.

Lucio knows of Asras existence and parentage.

Lucio learns Asra is around and that he's got power.

Lucio LOVES power, so he threatens Asra into working for him.

Lucio uses Asra for his power and to be taught how to use it for himself.

While using Asra for his knowledge and power, runs him into the ground by pushing his limits to physical and magical degrees, possibly even moral.

Asra pushes back against a lot of this, or is at least percieved to, frustrating Lucio.

Lucio does what he can to try and control Asra even more, primarily via fear, but can't seem to crack him.

Eventually it's too much, and Asra leaves. Likely when the plague hit like Muriel, but it's possible it could've been somewhat sooner. Lucio is PISSED, because he wanted that magical power all to himself.

Less related, I can see Lucio trying to brush it off and pretending to be fine with it, excuse being "he was too difficult to work with, anyways," or something.

...And then... years later, as far as Lucio sees it, Asra comes crawling back- and he's tamed down to a degree! He's actually working with him. Lucio might not know what or who did it, but Asra is finally broke for him, and I'm sure he was absolutely ecstatic to have that power back in his hands- and more than ever before.

Think of all of this as you would like!

At the end this is all still speculative, so definitely feel free to make your own points or say if you feel any different abt anything- expansions or counters on this theory/headcanon welcome!

And if you also have any other screenshots or info not here that could add to the theory or change the outlook of certain things definitely add them!!! I feel like I'm missing stuff for sure, and my memory has probably muddled some things (hopefully I didn't get anything wrong, though.)

And @asrascherry thanks for the offer in helping word my hcs also! I forgot to say that. This one is just so long I wouldve felt bad bringing it all to you 😔 it's probably still messy as a result but I tried lmao (worried it's repetitive or unclear 😬)

Uh yeah! That's mostly it for NOW.

+All the love to Asra for going through so much I'm so sorry bb,,

Thanks for reading!

#asra #the arcana #the arcana game #asra alnazar #asra the arcana

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weirdcultstuff · 3 years

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Before I left, I remember a few times hearing the stories of people who left the kinds of circles I grew up in, from their own perspective, just a handful of times:

A homeschool mommy blogger’s daughter ran away from home and the mother wrote sad posts about the ‘wild accusations’ her daughter made about the conditions she’d been living in, and the abuse she experienced.

I found a website of adult kids who were raised in IBLP doctrine, detailing their stories of abuse.

They seemed unlike anything that I’d experienced, even though I was fascinated by the stories, drawn to the people telling them. I felt kinship but I wasn’t sure why.

The reason was: the way we told our stories was different, even though much of the content was the same.

They said, “my father beat us until we got bruises, and cried,” and I said, “I was a bad kid, my dad punished us. But I never had to go to the hospital for it or anything, it wasn’t abusive. It taught me discipline. Even if I didn’t always understand it, even if it got out of hand sometimes, I turned out fine. I’m tough, I can take it. No big deal.”

They said, “my parents were cruel and demanding,” I said, “my parents were under a lot of pressure, too busy to care.”

They said, “I raised my younger siblings, even though I was a kid myself,” and I said, “I was such a responsible kid, my parents did a great job teaching me life skills at a young age-kids are so much more capable than most people give them credit for! Even a five year old can cook and clean, if you teach them right!”

They said, “I felt stifled, I was depressed, I self-harmed, I was suicidal,” and I looked at my bleeding thighs and said, “my faith was weak. And I never would kill myself, no matter what, because I don’t want to go to hell and anyway I’m too much of a wuss to go through with it. Maybe I’m possessed. I’m not spiritual enough. I’m broken, selfish. I’m rebellious, a family disgrace.”

They said, “my self image was broken before I ever had a chance to develop it,” and I said, “women aren’t meant to make it on their own, they need a husband or a father to protect and guide them. I’m one of the lucky ones to not be independent. I have it so much easier than feminists.”

They said, “I was starved,” and I said, “I was trained. I fasted to make me stronger spiritually, to prepare for the apocalypse.”

This is why my story sounds so different from some of my siblings’, the ones who haven’t rejected their upbringing. This is why the stories of the people who left sounded foreign to me at first.

The shift in perspective, when leaving, can feel like gravity just got turned off. Like you’re in a tailspin, your engine stalled, like reality isn’t reality anymore. And once you make it through that, your story sounds different. The words you use are different. And different people will believe you. But no matter how you choose to tell your story, or how you view your life, whatever pain you felt was always real, and you’ve never deserved to be hurt. You deserve love and kindness and whatever you need to heal and to grow, and I hope you find that on whatever path you take. You’re not alone.

#i was isolated #not sheltered #there is a difference #long post #how cults work #how abuse and isolation work #deconversion #trauma recovery #tw self harm #self harm mention #self harm #abuse #child abuse #iblp #apocalypse mention #you’re not alone #you arent evil because you left

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skulljackxiii · 3 years

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Total Dangan Island

Contestant No. 1.5: Izuru Kamukura

History: He came from an unremarkable home with unremarkable parents with a lifestyle that wasn’t either tragic or rewarding, therefore of course a child of this background would be nothing special. Early in his childhood the boy knew this, he knew what he could do and what other people saw him as, so he felt why bother striving for things higher if he was already expected to be average. Despite the boy's content with his life, his parents were quite the opposite, they wanted more from him. This goes beyond just parents wanting their child to have a better future out of love, rather there was more of an underlying sense of greed and envy behind their motive.

Just like their son, they were unremarkable people that came from an ordinary background, but rather accepting who they were, they wanted more. Both of them despised losing, and others even more that were gifted that could achieve things that they couldn’t. They craved acknowledgement and valor more than anything that would make them stand out and could be used to exploit their superiority onto others. But they were not deluded from reality, they knew that they didn't have the capabilities to be rewarded anything. So their next big plan was to have a child, by raising a special child that could accomplish their dreams and more, that would ultimately lead them achieving the biggest reward that any parent would want. In their minds, every parent wanted to have a child that was special or had a unique talent to them that could be used for their own benefits and almost as a desired object that most others could only ever dream of having. But their grand scheme was demolished as soon as their son was born which was just like them, unremarkable.

Years later, both parents refused to accept the truth and persistently forced the boy to practice, study, and train until they discovered what he was talented at. This was all the boy knew in his home; his face in books, exercising with various weights, and most noticeable of all was the disappointed faces of his parents who consistently berated him with lectures and complaints about him and all his flaws. This routine became so consistent that the boy became numb to it all and just saw it as part of his everyday life.

The boy always questioned why his parents were so desperate and acted the way they did, but he held no resentment towards them or anyone else. Though that didn’t mean that he wanted to uphold what they wanted or held himself in higher regards either. However, that was until he discovered this autobiography by an author that soon became this boy’s idol.

In the book it talks about how the author came from an ordinary and mundane household who was consistently underestimated and belittled by others due to his status and upbringings, but later became someone that could accomplish so much that most men could only dream of. It went onto further details that through his determination, hard work, and wit he was able to pass and overcome all challenges and diversities that came his way, thus discovering that he had innate talents that excelled in many categories. Then finally, it states that in his final moments he wanted to build an institution for young talents and give them opportunities that he was never given when he was younger. After finishing the book, the boy became infatuated with the author and adopted principles that reflected the author’s values. He soon treated the autobiography as his bible and uses it at times to help remind him of the tales of his hero that he wishes to be…”Izuru Kamukaura”.

With a fire lit in him and motivation driven to be like his idol, the boy sat down and seriously studied and trained in order to be the best. With days, weeks, and months pass by, the boy’s effort was unwavering and continued onward without stopping. His parents took notice of his change and their demeanor lightened after taking credit for their son’s sudden growth and change in attitude.

After his nonstop assault with his hard work, he finally saw results and was placed first in every academic category in his grade. Once he saw that, he felt completely different and was overwhelmed with joy after all his hard work paid off, but those feelings were nothing compared to the ones he felt once his parents found out about his results.

Despite knowing them his entire life and seeing them everyday, on that day the boy saw his parents as complete strangers to him once they knew of his achievements. Their mannerism and demeanor changed, and they showered him with praise and love for the first time in that boy’s life. The feeling was unreal to him, it was a warmth inside the boy’s chest that he never felt before in his whole life. As he continued watching his parents continue to embrace him with big bright smiles on their faces, the boy cried tears of joy and let it run down his face like a waterfall. That marked the moment when the boy knew that he wanted to preserve this feeling and maintain his parent’s affections.

As time moved forward and the boy continued his pace, his results remained in the top with no change in its order. Soon not only his parents, but teachers, relatives, and even other parents started showering the boy with praise like, “You’re amazing”, “Other kids should be like you”, “I wish my kid was like you”, and “You’re a role model”. But the praises that the boy would hear often and would stick by him the longest were “You’re so talented” and “You’re such a genius”. Those words struck the boy’s mind and filled him with such pride and confidence since those were the exact same lines used by others to describe his hero. Also the boy’s parents would often brag about their child towards everyone and explained that the boy’s exploits were only possible due to their superior parenting methods. Obviously, arrogant bragging like this would cause strain with other parents and relatives, but they had no room to interject since what they said wasn't entirely wrong. The boy had mixed feelings about what his parents were doing, but in the end he was still happy to see them so energetic and loving towards him.

Though his effort won him the affection of the adults, most of his young peers felt differently. It is because he tries so hard for results and the adults would often compare him to them, other children would feel irritated by his presence alone and start alienating him, even small acts of bullying would occur. But despite all that it didn’t affect the boy that much because he still had some friends left to play with, and his parents explained that those children were acting out due to how jealous they were since they weren’t “talented” or “special” like he was. The boy took all those words he received to heart and used them to help elevate his efforts in achieving his goal of becoming the next “Izuru Kamukura”.

But that wasn't meant to be as the phrase “all good things must come to an end”, rang in the boy’s head once he entered middle school. As soon as the boy set foot in that new school, all his previous achievements and efforts were meaningless once the boy met with real “geniuses” and “talent”, the true elites. His grades and performance kept on falling and falling until he was placed in remedial classes to help him from flunking all his subjects. Just as the boy’s performance dropped, so did everyone’s expectations of him as well. From stares of admiration to glares of disappointment, more and more people started mocking the boy for his wasted effort and even more so towards the parents after years of them bragging of how superior they were for raising such a “talented” son. Once the mockery occurred, the boy’s parents reverted immediately back to the state when the boy was small and younger; cold, disappointed, and full of dismissive complaints. Shocked by the setback, the boy refused to give up and sacrificed any means to get back what he lost. The boy discarded his remaining friends, destroyed his social life, and got rid of any meaningless free-time, all in order to use those remaining times to better himself. Alas nothing changed, the boy’s effort was wasted and not a thing has improved.

Now the boy is back where he started...no, he was in a much worse state than he was before. It’s true that his parents and everyone else around are back to thinking very little of him, but now he was completely alone and he even thinks very little of himself now. After experiencing that warmth from his parents and others, and following the footsteps of someone he admired, the boy can’t help but to feel empty and hatred for himself for not being special or talented. He would start questioning his own worth and see very little value in his own existence. There were times when the boy even thought of ending it all, but he would stop every time when he got these sudden flashes of “Izuru Kamukura” and thought about all the hardships he went through before he could achieve anything. He thanked “Izuru” every time for saving him from himself and giving him the strength to keep it together, but there was this other thought in the back of his mind if it was really right to compare himself to someone like “Izuru Kamukura”. Though he did have to overcome many difficulties, in the end he was actually talented, whereas the boy was not and was just ordinary.

A few years have passed and the boy is now of high school age, he was just another face in the background that had no one by his side. Though the boy didn’t stand out or got in anyone’s way, disdain and mockery still lingered towards him as his old peers still retells the stories about him and his past. With not much to do, all the boy did was get through it all and head straight home. At the end of the day, to no surprise there was no one there, the boy just bolted to his room and got started with his homework. His mind constantly wandered off and dreaded memories of his past, thinking up scenarios of his life where he stood out as “talented” and how content he would be with his life.

One day when the boy was reliving his past, he stumbled upon an online ad that advertised recruitment tryouts for a spinoff show of the infamous series “Total Drama” called “Total Dangan Island”. At first the boy wasn’t interested in the show or the prize since he knew of the show’s predecessor and its dangerous reputation, but there was something that caught the boy’s interest. In the ad it stated that only the top 16 most talented and capable youths of the World would be selected to participate in the contest. At that moment the boy had a sudden flash of realization, if he were to enter and win then everyone in the World, and especially to himself, would have to acknowledge that he truly is talented and special enough in order to beat the best of the best.

Once he finished recording and sending his tape audition, he went on and explained his plan to his parents. Despite the resolve he had for entering the show before, in his mind he was still scared since this show’s predecessor is known to be life threatening and is willing to endanger its participants for ratings by any means. So a part of him was hoping his parents would stop him or warn him that it was too dangerous to go out of concern for him. However they were ecstatic and were ready to pack all his things up, even though he was yet to be even nominated. The chances of him being accepted was between nonexistent to miniscule, the boy begged all his might to be let in.

After months passed by, the boy noticed a strange black and white envelope in his mailbox and tore it open. Upon reading the letter, the boy jumped in celebration as it was a congratulation letter from the show for being a following contestant. After telling the news, the boy’s parents quickly got his things together and was at the door ready to send him off. The boy was overwhelmed with various emotions clashing with one another; from joy, excitement, nervousness, terror, etc., and right before he took another step forward out the door his parents stopped him to say some final words. In the boy’s mind he was hoping to hear the words “We’re so proud of you”, “We love you so much”, or even a “Stay safe”, but all he got was “Make sure you win and get the prize.” After hearing those words, the boy’s emotions calmed down and silently nodded back at his parents in response. The boy then turned forward and walked away, at that point the boy was determined to win at any cost so he could finally put to rest all his fears and doubts and prove to everyone, especially himself, that he is worth at least something.

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Bio/Extra Info: (Read Previous Bio) Early on in the competition during one of the first Challenges, Hajime and the rest of his team lost one of its members. They all agreed to scatter to go look for her, but there was no luck. It became hopeless until Hajime finally spotted her in the deepest parts of the island. As he went after and finally caught up to her, he noticed that they were at a strange location that was like a gravesite for dangerous and decaying machinery.

It was the Dump Pit, a junkyard area where all Monokuma's prototypes and rejected ideas were all discarded to rot away (obviously this was all done without Monomi's knowing). As he was about to reach out to her, the ledge that they both stood on crumbled. Once they fell and got closer to the site, they landed on this strangely-colored puddle that was leaking from something that looked like a large battery, some in particular landed on Hajime’s eye, and they were covered by this terrible chemical smell that almost seemed like it devoured any clean air surrounding the area. In a panic, both team members quickly got out of the site and escaped from the forest together without any visible harm done to them. After thoroughly inspecting themselves they found nothing that was wrong, at first.

After a course of a few weeks, Hajime’s eye continuously got worse as it became more bloodshot red and throbbing profusely, in which he could receive massive headaches that would cause him to collapse onto the ground. In that state, all his fears and doubts would loop in his head constantly, then during that he would hear a faint voice telling him something. He could never make out what the voice said and at times when he was about to decipher it, the headaches would stop and so would the voice alongside it.

Then one morning when he woke up, he noticed that all the pain was gone though was surprised when he got to a mirror to check his eye. He saw that the pupil of his left eye had completely turned red, upon the mirror he saw a figure standing behind him in the mirror. In a scared panic, he quickly turned around and asked who the stranger was, but as the stranger answered Hajime instantly recognized the voice as the same one in his head from his headaches. The stranger answered that he was Izuru Kamukura, but Hajime had a hard time believing that since Izuru was long dead and that he looked nothing like him. In fact the stranger actually resembled Hajime who dressed up ruggedly as Izuru Kamukura.

Hajime cautiously reached out to this Izuru, but he phased through him and immediately jumped back away from him. When Hajime asked what he was, Izuru took a pause and thought deeply about that question. After a couple seconds, after analyzing all the clues and data from Hajime’s memories, he concluded that he was a separate persona that was conjured by his psyche. As Hajime was dumbstruck to the possibility, Izuru continued theorizing that after being exposed to all that chemical waste has created this strainful chemical imbalance in his brain. The area that was mostly affected was amygdala, which controls fear and anxieties, thus causing all those serious headaches he had up until now.

In order to answer and compensate for all his doubts and anxiety, his psyche has created a whole new personality that embodied all his desires and wishes, thus creating this Izuru Kamukura that stood in front of him. After the explanation, Hajime was taken aback and shocked by what he heard. After that’s been done and over, now all that’s left is for Hajime to decide what he’s going to do with his whole new roommate in his head.

(Hajime’s) Goal: (Read Previous Goal) Same as before.

(Izuru’s) Goal: He is indifferent, he doesn’t care about the game, prize, or anything of that matter. He only acts or takes control over the body only when Hajime requests his help or allows it. Izuru could process images in an instant, has access to 100 percent of his brain, and was in complete control of every single strand of tissue that composed his body. Until Hajime calls for him, he’ll just stand on the side and watch him go through huddles and other challenges. Since Izuru views himself as a perfect being that could do no wrong, which makes his existence boring and meaningless, he finds watching others struggle to achieve their goals, despite their flaws and imperfections, a bit intriguing and entertaining.

#tdi #total drama #total drama island #danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa 2 #dr2 goodbye despair #DR #fanart #au #izuru #izuru kamukura #kamukura project #hajime hinata #hajime #hinata

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miamlfy · 4 years

Text

Gryffindor Scum

A/N: WOOH PART THREE IS FINALLY OUT! There was so many ways I could have written this part and I actually rewrote it a few times. This part is more centered on Draco rather than the reader but I guess this series is mostly on Draco. Feel free to give me feedback/ideas!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Summary: Draco has an unwelcoming experience with Blaise and Pansy.

Warnings: Implied depression, Pansy, and a few swear words. Perhaps spelling/grammar mistakes as well.

Word Count: 1,9k

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Enjoy!

(Not my gif, credit to whoever made it)

Draco laid wide awake on his bed, staring onto the ceiling. He spent hours tossing and turning, just wanting to fall asleep just like everyone else in the house, however, his body refused to shut down. Draco continued to glance down to Harry’s muggle alarm clock he had on his nightstand, 3:46am it read. He let out a sigh, your mum wanted everyone up by 6am. So much for a good night’s rest, he thought to himself.

His stomach was filled with the nervous feeling, his whole life had changed for him during the summer and he knew life at Hogwarts would also change. If someone told his past self that he would be dating a half blood or better yet living amongst Gryffindors, he would’ve laughed in their faces and told them to fuck off. Draco would have never imagined that this would be his life now, not that he hated it. He loved it, every second of it. He loved being in a household which held warmth, love, and security. He loved having parental figures that asked him on the daily if he was okay but most of all, he loved having you at his side.

You were there for him for anything he needed the minute he stepped foot into your house. At first, Draco was scared your relationship would have declined when he moved in but instead it got stronger and the love was blooming more than ever. They spent many nights together alone, talking about the present and the future.

“If I become a professional Quidditch player and you a healer, you can help with any injuring I get.” You said while picking on the grass you were laying on.

Draco chuckled besides you, “I’ll also be on the stands cheering you on and being the loudest there.”

Those moments the two of you had are what kept Draco going. You were his world and his yours. He got so used to spending each day with you that he wasn’t sure if he’ll be the same spending less amounts together at school. Now, Draco wasn’t much of the clingy type but after living in the same house for almost three months only to go back to school and being separated by house rivalry but going to take its toll.

Draco scoffed to himself, whoever created such things and made him believe them were children, he thought. House rivalry was nonsense. Draco looked over to the clock once again, not much time has passed since he last checked it. He rolled onto his side and decided to at least get some sleep to avoid being an awful mood the in the morning.

Draco was woken up by the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. He looked over to Harry’s bed to see it empty and unmade, no doubt already waiting for the delicious delights Lily was cooking.

Draco was still getting used to seeing a human cook rather than house elves. Lily wasn’t the only person who cooked in the Potter household, he also learned that you, along with Harry were taught some things. James, however, was often kicked out of the kitchen after his many, many, failed attempts on cooking.

He got up from his bed and quickly made it along with Harry’s. Although your twin brother was fully capable of making his own bed, Draco hated a messy room and often opted into making your brothers bed. Heading downstairs, he saw your luggage packed and ready to go by the front door. Lily made the three you do it the night prior.

“Ah, he’s up.” He heard you say, you stood on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek. You always complained about your shortness to him, and how it wasn’t fair the Harry got the tall gene.

“Come sit down, there’s pancakes, eggs, and bacon on the table already. Help yourself.” You said to him.

Draco nodded and took an empty seat next to James. He began adding foods onto his plate, before he could start eating, James began speaking to him loud enough for him to only hear.

“Draco as you know, the trial between your parents and us is still happening.” Draco nodded as James spoke.

The trial was taking longer than expected and although it was unrealistic to think it would end with an agreement immediately, Draco wish it was over. Both parties refused to step down. Not that Draco wanted your parents to give up, he knew they wouldn’t. He just wished his own parents would come to terms that Draco wasn’t returning to them and to drop whatever they doing to claim themselves as the best wizarding parents out there.

Well, he just wished his father would stop. He knew his mother couldn’t do much, she was just there to be a wife of a pureblood and a mother to heirs. Draco knew she tried to be there for him but the way she was raised proved that the only way she could try to show her love for her son was to buy him things and spoil him with anything and everything he asked for.

Narcissa still sent him letters once a week, whether it was sending him money, treats, or asking a simple ‘How are you doing?’.

Draco stared at James and nodded his head allowing James to continue.

“Word has gotten out and it’ll most likely be in the papers soon which means people will say things to you. Don’t let them get to you and force you to pick a side, in the end it’s you who decides.”

Draco already had a side picked but he knew Mr. Potter was right. His ‘friends’ will no doubt try to make him change his mind about everything and force him back into being the self-centered prick he was.

Once everyone finished the very delicious breakfast and got into the muggle car Lily owned, with complaints from you for having to sit in the middle seat, the five of you headed towards the train station.

“Harry move your bloody elbow!” You yelled out to your brother. “It’s stabbing me in the side!”

“Maybe it’s you who should move, my elbow is fine where it is!”

Draco slightly laughed at the interaction, leave it to the two of you to cause some sort of chaos in any given situation. He sat back in his seat and looked out the window, watching all the cars drive by.

His stomach was getting the same feeling it had during the night. He began chewing on his lip, a habit he had of doing whenever he was nervous. Taking notice of this, you took his hand into yours.

“Are you okay?” You asked looking at him. Concern was written all over your face as he looked at you. Looking at you is what made him more present and calmer. He loved looking at you, you were always so beautiful to him.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He responded, giving you a genuine smile. You reciprocated the smile and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Draco let out a yawn, his lack of sleep getting to him. Perhaps he’d be able to nap on the train.

Arriving at the station, the three of you said goodbye to your parents. Lily was making sure everyone had everything they needed while James looked ready to cry. Regardless of this being the fifth year of doing this, he was never ready to say goodbye to his children.

Draco noticed some Slytherins giving him weird looks as he stood with the Potters, a few gasps were heard from others when he hugged James and Lily goodbye. He didn’t care though; it was a bit amusing to see some of his peers sporting confused looks.

“Alright kids be safe and be good, I don’t want to hear about any more pranks on teachers or students,” Lily said, looking directly at you and Harry. “Includes you now, Draco. These three gremlins can be quite the influence.”

“Three?!”

“Yes James, three.”

“Now that’s not fair, Sirius should be in that list too!” James said. Lily shook her head as if her point was proven.

Draco followed Harry and you onto the train, he saw a few first years still waving goodbye to their parents through the windows. He saw you poke your head out of one as well, he wanted to laugh at the fact that you looked no different than a first year, but he knew it was best not to as he didn’t want to make you mad.

“Tell Uncle Moony that I say hi!” He heard James yell. You replied with a ‘will do’ and pulled your head back as the train began to move. Draco could’ve sworn he saw James wipe a few tears from his eyes.

“Are you going to come sit with us? Harry already went with Hermione and Ron to find an empty compartment.” You asked your boyfriend.

Draco shook his head, “It’s best if I go sit with the others, Granger and Weasley aren’t much used to having me around unlike Harry and you.”

“Alright well if anything happens, you can come find us.”

Draco nodded, allowing you to place a kiss on his lips as a short bye. Watching you skip as you went to find the others, Draco went on his way to find the people he calls his friends.

The compartment in which they were in wasn’t hard to find, upon entering it Draco placed his luggage above and sat down next to Blaise.

“Strange,” he heard Blaise say. “We didn’t think you’d be joining us.”

“And why is that?” Draco asked turning his head to look at Blaise.

Blaise continued to look down at the book he was reading, “It seemed to us that your alliance has changed.”

Draco scoffed but before he could speak back, Pansy had already taken the stage.

“You left us Draco.” She said, forcefully making herself sit in-between Draco and Blaise. She placed her arms around Draco’s neck.

“Come back to us Draco, we know you’re still in there.” She shook him as she spoke, “We know they brainwashed you now come back.”

Draco threw Pansy’s arms off of him with a bit of force, making her pout. “No one has brainwashed me.”

“They clearly did, you don’t even want to be with me anymore!” She screeched. Draco rolled his eyes at her delusional self.

Blaise closed his book and made Pansy go back to her original seat. He looked directly at Draco as he spoke.

“We don’t want you here anymore, Draco. You made it clear to us that you no longer want to be in this friend group the minute you hugged that mudblood and her blood traitor husband. Not to mention how friendly you’ve gotten with Y/n Potter.”

Draco felt his body becoming hot with anger as Blaise targeted the slurs towards your parents.

“Now leave us and perhaps you’d want to change your house tie as well, seeing as you’ve become Gryffindor scum.” Blaise finished.

Draco angrily stood up, glaring at Blaise as he grabbed his luggage and stormed out slamming the compartment door with such force. He stood there for a few seconds, taking notice that his hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes with them.

“This is going to be one long fucking year.”

#draco malfoy one shot #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x gryffindor #draco malfoy x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x sister!reader

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

Coach Cavill - Chapter 14

Summary: Dean decides to cooperate, meaning he and Amelia have to co parent.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: Slight implications to sex, but that’s it

Masterlist // Coach Cavill masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Seeing Isabella melted against Henry’s frame makes my heart so full. I’m so grateful she is still here with us. I know it’s really thinking in doom scenario’s when I continue to envision Isabella’s funeral, but I can’t help it, okay? It’s my job as a mother to worry like that.

But Benji is not a hair better than I am. He continues to keep a close eye on his sister, making sure she has everything her little heart desires. Isabella is getting spoiled and she is not complaining at all—if I’m not mistaken, she is totally exploiting the situation, a clear sign she is feeling more and more like herself now.

He hates it to leave her to go to school himself, but I told him that it would be slightly ridiculous if we all stayed home and he had to agree to that. While I stay home with Isabella, Henry goes to the training center, whilst leaving Kal here with us. Eve drops by occasionally, meaning there are enough sets of eyes to check in on Isabella.

My day is filled with watching Isabella sleep, eating something with her and sitting on our porch with Kal. When Eve can, she spoils Isabella with some food and the second the little girl drifts off to sleep, we chat a bit.

Finally, when Isabella is on the couch asleep, with Kal guarding over her, I grab my phone and see if I have any missed messages.

Dean texted me? Goodness, I most certainly did not expect that.

Dean: I know this might be too much, but I want to try this co parenting thing.

Dean: Can I stay over tonight?

Dean: I mean, I want to invite the kids to my place, but I know that would be too much for Isabella

I let out a deep sigh. Not one cell in my body wants him in my house, but I’m not gonna lie when I say that it’s surprising he is taking someone else’s interests in consideration and for that I have to give him some credits. Maybe my little jab last night hurt his feelings and got him to pull himself together.

I barely recognize my ex husband. He surely isn’t the same man I married, but following my advice when it comes to raising our children, is more like how it used to be.

Amelia: Sure, I’ll ask Benji when he comes home and Isabella when she wakes up.

Dean: Thank you

Did Dean just thank me? I am so confused. Is this really happening or am I hallucinating? Was our daughter nearly dying the wake up call for him to actually co parent with me?

He was so considerate of my feelings when we were married, but that changed the second he involved himself with the younger model.

The rest of the day goes by slowly and earlier than usual, Benji arrives home. I guess he asked Hattie to drop him off first. I give him a tight hug and because Isabella just woke up, I can finally ask them if they want their dad to stay here for the night.

Isabella nods. ‘Yes, mom, I would like that.’

‘Is he bringing Mindy?’ Benji asks.

I shrug. ‘If you want, I can ask him.’

‘No,’ both of my children say.

‘Okay, I’ll text him he shouldn’t bring her with him.’

Benji nods. ‘Well, if it makes Isabella happy, then he should come over. Where are you going?’

That is a good question. I cannot possibly be under one roof with him and that also means I’m not going over to Johnny and Eve, because one, that counts as one roof and two, I’m going to be tempted to check in and really be that helicopter mom I promised myself never to be. Besides, I don’t want Dean to think I don’t trust him. Sure, I have some issues with him, but he is their father and perfectly capable to take care of them.

‘I’ll ask if I can stay with Henry.’

Isabella nods. ‘But mom, can Kal stay here then? I like it when he is around.’

I smile at Isabella. ‘I understand that, sweetie.’ I scratch Kal behind his ears and say: ‘We can ask Henry, okay?’

✰ ✰ ✰

When Henry walks into the door a little while later, everything is all arranged and he thinks it’s totally fine that Kal is staying here, while I’m sleeping over at his place. He even whispered in my ear that he doesn’t mind at all.

That might’ve made me blush a little.

The doorbell rings and I take a deep breath. I don’t want it to be awkward between Henry and Dean, but unfortunately, I can’t take a look into the future for a preview.

‘I’ll open the door, mom,’ Benji says, rushing over to the front door. Henry scratches Kal behind his ear, while saying to Isabella that Kal already had his dinner, so she doesn’t need to worry about feeding him tonight and that for tomorrow morning, he placed a bowl of food for him in the fridge.

Dean walks in with a large bag for the night and gives Isabella a kiss on her temple. ‘Hi princess, how are you?’

‘Tired, dad,’ she says.

‘I bet.’ He looks up to me and says: ‘Is there anything I need to know?’

I shake my head. ‘I wrote some instructions down. They’re on the counter.’

Dean looks at Henry and holds out his hand. ‘Hi,’ he says, ‘good to see you again, coach.’

Henry, Benji and I all seem genuinely surprised, but Henry is the first one who regains his composure. ‘Thanks, good to see you too, man.’

Is this truly happening? Did I take drugs and is this a hallucination or is Dean truly growing?

After I hugged my little girl, Benji and Kal, I walk towards the door and while Henry takes my stuff to the car, I say to Dean: ‘If there is anything you need, just call me.’

‘I know.’

‘Benji needs to get to school in time. He’s driving off with Hattie, okay?’

‘I know,’ Dean says again. ‘Amelia, it’ll all be fine, I promise.’

I simply nod. ‘Of course,’ I say. I walk out of my place, before giving Eve and Johnny a hug, who both promise me they’ll keep an eye out. When I step into Henry’s car and strap myself in the seatbelt, I let out a sigh.

‘You okay, Amelia?’

‘I am,’ I say. ‘Thank you, for letting me stay and for not being freaked out at all by how I’m dragged into this messy divorce and whole family situation.’

He scoffs. ‘I’d be a wimp if I’d back out.’ Henry drives off and holds my hand tightly in his as we continue to get further and further away from my house. I don’t talk to him, because my mind is thinking about all sorts of things. I mean, I truly trust Dean with our kids, because otherwise I wouldn’t have had two of them with him, but boy am I afraid something terrible is going to happen to Isabella.

‘Don’t you worry, Amelia,’ Henry says.

‘I am not worrying,’ I say, only to realize that that’s the biggest lie of today. ‘Okay, I am. Gosh, I wish I could let this go. I mean, he is their father, he’ll manage. Besides, if something truly terrible happens—’

‘Which will not happen,’ Henry interrupts me.

’—then Eve and Johnny are there and they’ll call me.’ I look to the side and for some confirmation I ask: ‘Right?’

‘You’re absolutely right. You know, we could grab some ice cream from the freezer, watch some movies and just chill a bit.’

‘Yeah?’ I ask. ‘Sure? I mean, if you want, I can help you out with some decorating.’

He nods. ‘That can wait. You and I are gonna relax. Romantic comedy?’

✰ ✰ ✰

I’m not at all paying attention to the movie. It’s a fun one, sure, but my brain is everywhere else but focusing on the screen. Worrying about Isabella, checking my phone constantly to see whether or not I missed a message from someone and being the worst guest anyone could have over, I get up halfway the movie, clean up a bit, and that’s the point where Henry gets up and grabs my hands. ‘Okay, you need to calm down.’

‘I know, I know, I’m a horrible guest,’ I say. ‘It’s just that this never happened to me or my family. I am freaking out, Henry.’

‘I can tell,’ he chuckles. ‘You said you always like to decorate, right? You can move around furniture, literally rip off my wall paper. Whatever you want.’

I can’t help but let out a laugh. ‘Aren’t you an absolute sweetheart? I’m totally overreacting. Dean is perfectly capable of taking care of his own kids, however this is so different. You know, back in the day, he was a real charmer and— Oh no, I really shouldn’t talk about him to my new boyfriend. That’s weird and uncalled for. I’m terribly sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘Amelia, remember, you have a history with him. It’s okay to think about those times, to doubt him, to question everything and to cherish those moments.’

‘Are you a gift send from the heavens?’ I ask him. ‘Because it’s absolutely unreal the way you treat me.’

He has a cocky smile on his face. ‘I might be. Come here,’ he whispers, pulling me closer to him and pressing a kiss on top of my head. ‘It’s rough,’ he says, ‘seeing your own daughter like that… I can’t imagine what that would’ve been like. I know this is incomparable, but sometimes during training or at a competition, we had a rough injury.’

‘Bad ones too?’

‘Sometimes. One time someone fractured their knee.’

‘Oh gosh,’ I say.

‘And one time someone hurt their back,’ he continues. ‘Like bruised their back, you know. It’s scary as a coach, but I can’t imagine what it would be like as a parent.’

‘Meaning…’ I start.

‘How you are conducting yourself, is totally appropriate.’

I squeeze his side, causing him to laugh. ‘I thought you were going to say something poetic. You totally suck.’

‘I don’t,’ he says, squeezing my cheeks. ‘I’ll pour you a glass of wine and then you can teach me some dance moves from back in the days. I promised Isabella I would do that and I think I can learn the best from the artist, right?’

I am too offended to think about the cutest promise he made Isabella. ‘Back in the days? Henry, I might be over thirty, but I’m not that old. Take it back immediately.’

His eyes widen. ‘Oh no, oh no, I screwed up. You’re not old, honey. Let me say it differently. From your former K-Pop days,’ he says, hoping to make up for the absolute crude wording he used. ‘Better, sweetheart?’

I nod with a smile. ‘Yeah, much better.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Henry might be a gifted judoka, a phenomenal coach and a lovely man, but he is a terrible dancer. He missteps the entire time, his whole body is stiff (even after a proper warm up and stretching) and his memory is horrid. ‘Right foot!’ I yell, when I see lifting his left foot. ‘Henry, you’re hopeless.’

‘I’m not hopeless.’

‘You are,’ I chuckle. ‘I have never seen such a horrible dancer.’

‘Not everyone can be as good as you are.’

I smile. ‘Also, your hips are the problems. They are stiff.’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘I’ve never had any complaints about them before.’

My cheeks shouldn’t heat up like this. I am an adult, I make sexual innuendos with Eve all the time and there have been quite interesting things Dean and I have done together. I quickly pull myself together as I cock an eyebrow. ‘I believe that.’

Henry doesn’t quite know what to say, because he rubs the back of his neck. His eyes burn in mine, but we don’t say anything. I bite my lip, before he takes a few steps towards me and holds my face in his hands. He gives me a deep kiss that nearly knocks me off my socks. His tongue gently explores my lips and I open my mouth, holding tightly on his shirt.

Fuck, my entire body is buzzing. ‘Oh,’ I whisper, when our lips part. ‘That was quite something. You might be incapable with your hips, but those lips of yours… Hello sir.’

Henry starts to laugh. I don’t know why I feel so uptight about this, because Dean and I got us in all sorts of compromising positions when we were together. It’s just weird to think that one day I’ll be making that step with Henry.

And he looks so handsome now and my lips are still sensitive from that kiss. I stand on my tippy toes to kiss him again and I feel him smile underneath the kiss. ‘What?’ I ask him with a sly smile myself.

‘Nothing,’ he chuckles, ‘it’s just… You’re beautiful.’

I blush. ‘Henry…’

‘It’s true.’ He holds my shoulders tightly in his hands and presses a kiss on my forehead. ‘Especially when you laugh. Oh, how I could talk day in and day out about how beautiful you are. Both on the inside as the outside.’

‘Okay, you need to stop.’ I push him away with a chuckle, but he holds my hands in his. ‘What?’

‘I love you, Amelia Jung.’

My heart stops beating. He loves me? Oh, the relief. ‘Are you sure?’ I ask just in case, because I don’t want to be hurt again.

‘I am. I don’t think I have ever felt this way before about someone.’

I blink my eyes. ‘Henry, you have no idea how relieved I am. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now and… I can’t believe it.’ I squeezes his fingers and add: ‘I love you too.’

✰ ✰ ✰

I get ready for bed, while Henry is already there. His room is plain, but it’s not surprising at all, since the rest of his house is boring as well. Henry holds open the covers for me and when I step in, I let out a hum. ‘This mattress is super soft.’

‘Yeah, it is, right?’

I turn to the side, so I can look at him a bit better. ‘Aren’t you cold?’ I ask him, placing my hand on his chest. ‘You’re always shirtless when we get to bed.’

Henry chuckles. ‘I’m trying to impress you.’

‘Liar,’ I laugh.

‘No, I’m not lying. I mean, I always put on a shirt when I give training, so this pretty sight is all for you’

I hide my face in my hands as I laugh. ‘Shut up, Henry.’ When I look at him again, I say: ‘You are aware that the shirt underneath your judo jacket, is the main reason no woman has perished at the training center yet?’

He frowns. ‘No way.’

‘Way,’ I chuckle. ‘I mean, come on, every woman here in Luna Meadows is ready to risk it all for coach Henry Cavill. As they should, because you are quite the catch.’

He places his heavy hand on my cheek and whispers: ‘You are too. I am the lucky one here.’

‘No, no, no, don’t make it about me again.’

‘Why not? It’s just the truth. The other night, Greg and I went to the bar and a few guys told me that Dean didn’t know what he missed and that I was a lucky guy. I mean, you were a very desired bachelorette.’

‘Oh my, don’t say that,’ I laugh. ‘I hate that word.’

Henry smiles. ‘We’re a great pair, aren’t we?’

‘Yeah, we are.’ I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a kiss. It was supposed to be a simple peck, however he places his hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer. He is so gentle, that I’m quite in shock that he pulls me on his lap. His thighs are massive underneath me. Henry’s calloused fingers run over my spine, after he managed to push my top up. I hum against his soft lips, but when my shirt is bundled up to my waist, I tense up.

‘What is it, Amelia?’ he asks me.

I shake my head. ‘Nothing, nothing. It just that it has been awhile and this is my first time after… Close to a year.’

He nods in understanding. Of course he understands this. This is Henry Cavill we’re talking about. He has been nothing but supportive and patient with me. ‘You don’t want to do this?’ he asks. ‘I understand. We can wait.’

‘No, no, no, just… Nothing.’ I let out a chuckle as I rub my face. ‘Sorry.’

‘No, don’t be sorry,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘I don’t want to force you.’

I let out a sigh. ‘You know, when I first got pregnant, there were a few things I was worried about. Whether or not the baby was okay, if I would be a good mom, but also about how I would look as I gained weight. When I saw my first stretch mark, I went to my mom and bawled my eyes out.’

Henry twists a strand of my hair around his finger. ‘Why?’

‘I was considered the visual of the group,’ I say, ‘so back in Korea my looks were hammered on. It was all everyone cared about. It didn’t matter that I was good at singing or dancing, it was only my looks. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I loved being pregnant, but I can still see it years later. Dean never cared about it, but right now I don’t know if that was a lie or not. Besides, me being pregnant, having babies, a postpartum body, that was all before I met you.’

‘Look,’ Henry says, ‘you are beautiful and those stretch marks and other things about yourself you might not like, I don’t care about them. I love you, Amelia Jung.’

I smile. ‘You are too kind,’ I admit. ‘But… I still can’t do it… Okay?’

‘Then we won’t,’ he says.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t,’ Henry says in a stern voice. ‘It’s not worth apologizing for.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x amelia jung #asian ofc #amelia jung #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #coach!henry cavill #Coach Cavill

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beskarhearts · 4 years

Text

Silence (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series pt. 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, mention of family members passing away, nightmares

Word count: A little over 3.2K

Summary: The Mandalorian is an extremely quiet man, not saying much of anything or making any noise, which is driving his new partner crazy.

Notes: I love these two together so I am going to write about them multiple times and am making it into a series. All the parts for this will be on my masterlist!

Next Part

________________________________________________

The silence was killing you.

During the day, it wasn’t as bad. The child usually gurgled and rambled away, speaking words only he could understand. The sounds of his giggles filled the air and lighted the mood. You would talk to the kid constantly, having him as a new loyal companion who would listen to you with wide eyes, responding in his own little ways.

But eventually the hours would die out and the kid would finally go to sleep for the night. And that is when the complete silence would kick in. Besides the soft snores of the child and the endless whir of the Razor Crest traveling through hyperspace, there would be absolutely no noise. No speaking, humming, clearing of the throat, nada.

You were used to being alone. You didn’t really have a lot of friends or companions before you joined the Mandalorian and his child, but it wasn’t quiet like this. When you were alone, you would hum or silently sing. You’d open your window and listen to the world around you. But, the Razor Crest was void of all of that, as well as the Mandalorian.

You honestly didn’t how it was possible. It had only been a matter of a few weeks now, but you had noticed how the Mandalorian could go hours without making even the quietest of noises. No cough, no heavy breathing, no words. He would just sit in the cockpit of his ship and stare into the hyperspace, seeming to study it for hours at end with no interruptions. The only time he would make noise is when he was fixing a weapon or the ship, or the eventual noises that accompanied him when he eventually shuffled his way into bed.

It drove you nuts. The silence was eerie and gave you too much time to think, to dwell on things you shouldn’t. But it wasn’t like you could just walk up to Mando and start a conversation with him. You knew little to nothing about the man in beskar, but you knew that he enjoyed his silence and enjoyed being left alone. When you first boarded the ship and joined him and his child, you tried to talk to him. You would crack jokes and sarcastically tease him like you did with everyone. But, he didn’t seem to be amused by that or succumb to your humor. He wouldn’t laugh and he barely even responded. He would just stare at you with his helmet until he eventually turned away to do something else.

You thought maybe he was just shy, not used to the company of a person. Maybe he just needed time to warm up to you. So, you decided you would let him speak first. You’d keep quiet like he wanted until he was comfortable enough to spark a conversation with you. When you came up with this plan, you relied on the fact that eventually he must speak to you. I mean you were stuck together and what was he going to do - never say anything ever? At the time, it seemed like an atrocious thought but now you had deemed it was very much possible you would spend your future days in complete silence when you were with the Mandalorian. Your plan to wait for Mando to speak now seemed ridiculous. Were you really not going to say anything and live in silence until the giant, glorified tin can decided to speak? I mean kriff, that day may never even come.

You sat on the floor of the belly of the Razor Crest, listening to the soft little breathes of the child as he lay sleeping in his hammock that the Mandalorian had resurrected for him. The Mandalorian was sat in the cockpit as always, out of sight, and you were alone. You had tried to go to sleep, hoping that would ease the uncomfortableness of the silence but it was hard for you to sleep nowadays. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw images of your parents and grandmother and those were memories too painful to relive for you. Nightmares plagued your nights so instead you would sit there awake for many hours, eventually laying down but spending most of your time staring at the ceiling above you.

Your mind drifted eventually, thinking of the child and how much you cared for him. You would never dare describe yourself as his mother, more like a glorified nanny at this point, but you felt a connection with the little one. He was warm and full of light and so much power. He seemed like a simple little kid but he was so much more complex.

You sat in the same spot thinking and didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you heard the thud of the Mandalorians boots on the floor. You looked up at the man, watching as he let go of the ladder that took him to and from the cockpit. You expected him to walk to his cot and close the hatch to it as he always did but instead his modulated voice let out a single sentence: “What was that?”

It took you a minute to process the fact that he had spoken to you and you felt yourself freeze up. You had been waiting for the man to finally say something, anything to you. Anything that would interrupt the silence. But now that it was happening, it felt so uncomfortable. You guess eventually you had gotten used to the silence and Mando trying to speak to you felt so odd, for him and yourself.

“What are you talking about?” You looked over at the child, but he was still knocked out cold. No noise came from him. Nothing knocked over or fell over. You heard nothing, as always.

“You were humming.”

Well, shit. You hadn’t even realized you were doing so. You probably annoyed him with it. You must have slipped into it, humming away to a tune you thought had been long forgotten but was apparently still very prevalent in your mind. You stood to your feet, looking at the Mandalorian and letting out a small “I’m sorry.”

Then you froze. Why the kriff were you apologizing? This man has made you sit in complete and utter silence for weeks and you finally hum a little because you are a damn human. And then he has the audacity to ask you what you were doing. “Actually, no. I am not sorry.” You clarified, feeling how annoyed you were with all the silence come out.

And what a surprise, the Mandalorian responded with complete silence, the only indication he was listening being a small tilt of his helmet.

“Sir, have you ever considered the possibility that you are a droid or something?” You sarcastically let out, perching a hand on your hip as you stared back.

“What?” A small scoff followed, sound distorted through his mask but you picked it up. The Mandalorian copied your movements, perching his own hand on his hip and cocking it out to the side.

“Well, I’ve just never met a human being who could sit in absolute silence and never say a word for so long. You must be a droid.” You let out a laugh. “Actually, I have met droids who have talked way more than you. I swear you vocabulary only consists of grunts, sighs, and saying ‘This is the way.’ Oh, and tonight we’ve added to your extensive list, a thrilling ‘What was that?’”

You let out a loud sigh as you finished your rambling, staring back at the man before you. And you didn’t think you could believe your ears at the noise that followed.

“Wait...was that a...” You pause, staring at him incredulously, “Did you just laugh or did your helmet malfunction?”

“I am able to laugh.” Mando said shortly and you swore that his voice seemed a little lighter than it ever had before.

“Well, how would I ever know that? Whenever I tell a joke or say something, you just respond with silence. I thought you were incapable of human emotion because, sir, I am kriffing hilarious and you haven’t laughed at my jokes once.”

“I laughed at you tonight.” You wanted to rip your hair out at his matter-of-fact attitude.

“Nooo. You didn’t laugh at my joke. You laughed because your complete silence is driving me loony. The only person I ever talk to anymore is the child and I don’t know if he can even understand me!” You throw your hands in the direction of the child, who still was sleeping peacefully away. “I mean how do you do it? Just say nothing for hours?”

“Mandalorians aren’t very talkative people.”

“So, when you are in a room with people, you just sit there and don’t say a word the whole time? What about friends or other Mandalorians?”

“I don’t talk to people. I’ve always been alone.”

The statement was made very definitively, with no emotion, but it made your annoyance simmer away slightly. You considered that the life of a Mandalorian must be very lonely. Nobody to talk to. You always have to keep your name and face hidden, never able to open up to someone completely and fully. You didn’t know much about Mandalorians but you could sense that connection and feelings weren’t of much importance. It was supposed to a life that consisted of an endless cycle of catching bounties and getting credits.

You knew that the Mandalorian that stood before you was already different, capable of connecting with a creature and caring for him. You saw it in the way he would mumble to the child, hold him against him, or even when you caught him wiggling his finger for the child to grab. The Mandalorian had been adjusting to life with one little child by his side and then you came along. And you would have to guess that a snarky, fully grown female was a bit harder to be comfortable with than the kid was.

“Well, you aren’t anymore. I know it probably kills you but you are stuck with me for a little while. And I’m not saying you have to talk to me all the time but I am here to talk to. And I think if I sit here in complete silence for another hour, I will go crazy.” You give the Mando a small smile, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room and not annoy his with your words. You didn’t want to force him to talk to you, but you also kind of did.

There was silence for a few moments and you were worried you scared off the Mando until he nodded slightly. “Okay.”

You let out a sigh of relief and quietly clapped your hands together, rocking back and forth on your heels. “Okay. Good.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

You raised your eyebrows, shocked that he was still engaging in conversation. “Sure.”

“Where did you hear that song you were humming?” Your smile dropped a little bit at the question but you tried to cover it quickly, though you could tell Mando could sense the change in your attitude. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s... umm...” You closed your eyes for a second and let out a small breath, feeling your fists clench. “My mom used to sing it to me to get me to sleep. It is just a silly little lullaby.” You looked down at your feet, feeling burned from remembering the memory.

“My mother used to sing that to me as well.” You felt an initial wave of confusion from his words. You had never thought about the fact that the Mandalorian had parents. I mean, you knew he didn’t just come from nothing. But, the idea of the Mandalorian as a child, with a family, seemed so bizarre. You tried to imagine a small child with a mother and father but couldn’t help but to just imagine his helmet on a smaller body. You then wondered how long he had been a Mandalorian as a child and if his parents were Mandalorians as well.

Your mind whirled with questions from the one small sentence he said, but you didn’t want to scare him off. You just let out a small, “Huh. Small universe, I guess.”

“Do your parents know where you are now?”

You wanted to tell Mando to stop asking you questions. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone but you didn’t want to shut him out right when he was finally starting to open up a little. You couldn’t slam the door in his face that you just convinced him to open. But this was the one thing you didn’t want to talk about. The one thing you were hoping was never mentioned. You looked back down at your feet, balling your fists and closing your eyes to build a dam against the tears threatening to fall. But, all you saw was your families face and that caused a bang in your chest that almost felt unbearable.

Mando knew instantly what the twist of pain in your face meant, for he had done it himself for years and years at the mention of family. It had been so long since he lost his family but it still burned and caused an aching feeling in his chest he didn’t know if he would ever be able to get rid of. He saw all of that in your eyes and felt dumb for asking the question. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

You let out a shakey sigh and look back up at the Mandalorian. You imagined he was probably judging you and your weakened state. He probably saw you as fragile and wrecked, something he didn’t want to handle. Damaged goods might as well have been stamped on your forehead. “It’s fine.”

You turned around, wiping at your eyes and starting to trail back to your small bed on the floor when you heard four words that simultaneously made you feel less alone but also broke your heart. “Mine are gone too.”

You turned to look back at the Mandalorian and looked him up and down. To the average person, he’d look like he always did: strong and bold. But, you saw the slight sag of his shoulders and the way his helmet slightly tilted down to the floor. You couldn’t see the pain that was on his face, but you could sense what he was feeling. A layer to the Mandalorian suddenly opened up to you that wasn’t there before. He wasn’t just a set of armor. He was a man, one who had been broken and scarred by the horror of the world. And even though he was covered head to toe in beskar, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel emotions. It just meant he couldn’t show them. Feeling emotions like these were bad enough but having no one to see it or confide in made it feel impossible to deal with somedays.

“I’m so sorry, Mando.”

“It’s okay. It was a really long time ago.” The words were said gruffly, as if they were bricks being built in a wall to push back the emotions he was feeling.

You wanted to hug him or grab his hand. Do something to console him and show him he wasn’t alone, that his pain could be your pain even though your own was so raw. You barely knew this man, having had your first real conversation with him only tonight. But, you felt like you understood him a lot better than before and in a way others might not be able to. And you wanted to hand your strength over to him and you didn’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t have minded if he had handed his own over to you.

Instead of physically reaching out, you hoped to ease his pain with your words. “I don’t know your parents but I imagine they’d have to be proud of you. The way you care for the kid... you are a good father, Mando. And I know you insist you aren’t the kids father, but he sees you that way. I can tell. And he cares about you and I can tell that you care for him. And you took me in even though you didn’t have to.” You sniffled but brought a small smile to your face, hoping to lighten the mood with a joke. “And I know I am a pain and you’ve let me stay, so you must be a good person.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t tell if your words helped at all but you still smiled in response.

“Well, we went from not talking to me almost crying in front of you, so I would say this is going spectacularly well.” You let out a chuckle, once again rubbing at your eyes. It was bizarre to you how one conversation seemed to open up so much between you two but it also created so many other questions you wanted to ask but they were ones that would have to wait for future conversations you hoped to have. Space and life was hard enough, but with someone to talk to, it made it bearable.

“I also added to my vocabulary.” The words were said in the same monotone way all his words were said, but you felt a real smile brighten up your face. The Mandalorian just made a joke with you. You had simply hoped for him to say anything to you to end the silence and here he was making a joke with you.

“Look at you, making jokes. In no time, you will be talking more than I do.”

“That is unlikely.” An exasperated tone was expressed with the words, along with what could be seen as a sarcastic shake of the head. His humor was dry, but it was something you could decipher and appreciate.

“I don’t know if I should be insulted or not by the way you said that.” You teased and you swear you heard another laugh until a piercing cry interrupted it. You looked over at the child who was throwing his hands in the air and wailing, with big tears filling his eyes that looked up at you and his father. “Oh, you wanted to join in on the pity party too?”

You started making your way to the child when Mando strolled past you and grab him, holding him in his arms and rocking him lightly. “I got him. You go to sleep.”

You smiled warmly at the Mando, wondering if he was doing the same under his helmet. “Okay. Night, Mando.”

You wandered to your bed on the floor and listened as the Mandalorian spoke to the child. He whispered as best as he could with the modulator on and you couldn’t hear much through his low whisper, but it brought peace to you. You liked the way he talked to the kid and how the kid slowly sank back into a peaceful sleep with the comfort of the Mandalorian.

Eventually, the lights turned out and you heard the Mandalorian shuffle into his bed, closing the hatch to it. Instead of dwelling on the past or feeling the pain of your loss, you smiled into the darkness, reflecting on your conversation. Eventually, your eyes drifted close and you fell into sleep.

That was the first night in a long time that you didn’t have a nightmare.

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