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ikemenomegas · 1 year

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Omega!Fukuzawa x Alpha!Reader

Maybe Every After

For the record Fukuzawa is a zaddy and I don't think anyone is going to argue with me on that. But he wasn't always a zaddy! You have to grow up a lot to earn the title and Fukuzawa had a lot of growing up to do even in his thirties.

Meet cute?-

Fukuzawa met the person who would become his Alpha at some stuffy local function he attended because of his status as one of the five greatest swordsmen.

While they hit it off well, commiserating over the oppressive self-congratulatory nature of these kinds of events, it was not love at first sight. Fukuzawa was able to carry on pleasant, engaging conversation with them

Fukuzawa was by turns a little awkward, eccentric, curious, and the sense of duty, justice and good judgment that characterizes his throughout his life permeated the conversation, leaving a lasting impression on you

Fukuzawa's work and his superiors are all top secret, but despite that, he does not try to make himself come off as an enigma and his intentions and ideology are largely transparent, which in the time of the Great War, the first ability war, and with Fukuzawa's position being what it was, was surprising and refreshing

You meet with him a few times as new friends in between whatever it is he does when he's not with you

Some time after those meetings begin would be around the time that he is ordered to begin assassinating war-hawk ministers

You see him change as those assassinations pile up and see him apparently lose the feeling of rightness that was in him when you first met at that party

He disappears soon after resigning his position in this mission, cutting himself off from the world that had descended into the misery and chaos of war, from the deaths he had caused, and from you, the person who had become important when he was still young and full of naive idealism

Meet again-

It's by chance you meet again when he is spending his work hours as a bodyguard.

Or maybe it's not chance. It's a certain circle of people that can afford the services of someone as skilled as Fukuzawa, as much as he tries to keep apart from those kinds of people. His reputation took a hit after he left his government position, although you don't know the circumstances around his departure, but people say it's because he isn't a patriot. The word makes you disappointed. The are parts of every war that are not about patriotism, where blood is no longer spilled for the love of one's country but because there are those who have lost their way.

Reconnecting is hard but maybe because you understand the rumors this way, it is not as hard as it might have been. Fukuzawa Yukichi is loyal, that you have known almost since you met him. He is loyal to the people who walk down the street and do not know him, he is loyal to all the people of the nation who make their way slowly through life alongside him, he is loyal to some ideal of justice that you don't necessarily understand but that you believe in too. You see sometimes the pain that the rumors cause him, but you believe in him, whatever that might mean, and so he lets the pain wash over him and away in the truth of his intact honor

It comes up at some point that you are still not a mated Alpha. There is no one else waiting for you as your tea times meeting with Fukuzawa continue. It just hadn't felt right, somehow, to try and make that kind of connection in the years that have passed. The great war turned everything upside down, including something inside of your good and most principled friend.

One day, he'll tell you about it, about what turned his heart inside out, but that is many years in the future

For now, you're the one who asks him if he wants to meet and restart first

He seems tired and you're surprised that he accepts, but he does. Once. And then twice. And then a third time. And it's almost like it used to be, even though you're both older and a bit more jaded, maybe with a few more hard edges. The meetings extend longer, and become more frequent. It is no longer tea on his days off or when he has time between jobs. There are late night meals after his employer dismisses him and lunches on the occasions he is released early. On one memorable occasion, you find yourself taking an early morning walk through a dew studded garden watching the sun rise pink and cold after a night on which you could not sleep

One thing led to another-

Eventually, Fukuzawa asks you to be his heat partner. It's a bit of a surprise and something that makes you nervous since Fukuzawa effectively ignored you for years.

You had once slept together in what was essentially a platonic way, or perhaps some kind of experiment. It was fine, oddly peaceful, especially at the end when you just passed a bottle of water back and forth, but you'd sort of wordlessly agreed to not do it again

He tells you he's sure though. His heats aren't frequent because he's on suppressants, but they do happen, and this is one of the different things. Fukuzawa seems to want, to have a restlessness that is more apparent to you, lingering beneath the surface

You already suspect it's the loss of purpose, the loss of public reputation somehow which had carried with it its own sense of purpose. He's a famous swordsman, one of the best in the country. Even a tame wolf desires to hunt.

So you spend his breakthrough heats together.

And you remember why the two of you never had sex after the first time. It makes you wonder if you remember the "silent agreement" wrong, or if he remembers it differently, and reminds you why you didn't dwell on it.

It's not earth shattering, the sex that is. It's just heat sex, just making sure he gets off so that he can sleep through the intervals between his body temperature spiking. Except you're in his home, the gauzy curtains drawn, scent patches off, and it's disturbing how clear the memory of the last time overlaps with this one, even after so many years.

It's like being in the middle of a monsoon storm, pressure and torn leaves, and summer heat and all. And while you thrust into his wanting body, he watches you. The heat-haze is obvious and his eyes are half-lidded in the associated exhaustion, but he tracks you when you lean back to swipe the back of your hand over your forehead and there's something hungry in his gaze when he looks down to where you're connected

You remember the first time and how intrigued you'd been by this particular mannerism of his, how he keeps his eyes open. He had been watchful and curious even as you'd laughed with him over your shared fumblings. His gaze had been heavy and consuming when he'd shown his aikido skills, at your request, and tumbled you from over him to pin you to the floor.

This time there's a lot more kissing because if you're close to his face, you don't have to see his eyes, but the way Fukuzawa opens his mouth for you with trust like you've been doing this for years makes the strategy nearly futile.

You have to work right after that first heat tapers off so he's still in his nest when you're putting on your shoes, weekend duffel in your hands.

It's late afternoon going on evening so the apartment is dark. His hair is splayed out on a pillow. You're satisfied though that he has pre-made meals in the fridge and you've changed out most of his nest bedding so he can rest in a clean spot after you've gone. Fukuzawa's not saying anything, watching while you rub a sore spot on your neck, which makes him smirk. You're convinced this will be another scenario just like last time where you don't talk about it, when he speaks up, stopping your hand on the doorknob. "Same in three months?" he asked instead. Despite the stab of apprehension, you smiled. "Same in three months," and left to catch a flight.

You don't let it get quite that long before you contact him again. You don't see him, but you text him and he texts back, which is at least a relief that he's not going to vanish again into whatever new twilight he inhabits.

It's the same in three months, apart from the weather outside. His eyes, blue like steel and watching you while you bring him over the edge, the sense of being in the eye of a summer storm, that feeling of trusting familiarity when you lick into his mouth and catch the sound he makes when you crook your fingers inside him. It's the same how it's only his response that changes when you kiss him later and are more gentle about it, running your teeth against his jaw before going to cradling his head and kissing the corner of his mouth.

There's laundry in the machine and porridge on the stove. Fukuzawa's heat had settled sometime in the very early hours of the morning and the two of you were more or less clothed for the first time in days. Fukuzawa was however leaning in the door, watching you put shredded seaweed, pickled plums, and katsuo tronçons on small plates already laid out on a tray. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching him almost lazily watch you. But, you paused in using a pair of chopsticks to pluck out a single ginko nut from a narrow jar. There was something almost tense in his posture. He was barely out of the thick of heat and you could see the faint tremble in his wrist before he folded his arms to hide it. You checked the pot with the still yet-to-boil rice and then ducked under his jaw to brush your nose against the scent gland there. The way he shivered, still sensitive, was almost enough to make you feel bad. "You should go lie down," you murmured, smiling in apology, "I'll bring the tray over." He hesitated, but then nodded. Something pulled at you behind your navel, similar to that familiar sensation when you had worked him through the heat. Only this time, out of the haze, you followed it and followed Fukuzawa to his nest. Its fresh linens were soft and sweet smelling as you guided him into it. He sighed when he was lying down again, a long exhale that gave nothing away. He was just watching. You tucked a blanket over his hips and let your hand linger a touch too long, feeling like you were falling into his eyes. He made no sound when you pulled away and did not return until the meal was ready. Although you did stand in the doorway he had just vacated, leaning so you could see Fukuzawa, loosely tied deep blue and light grey layers of his yukata falling half open as he rolled over to keep you within line of sight. He ate every bite of food, still maintaining that tense, anticipatory silence. You didn't remember this from the first time. His gaze only flickered from the tray and your hands to your eyes when you accidentally let out an encouraging rumble as he ate and immediately felt heat flash up your neck, mortified. The corner of his mouth twitched as he brought his chopsticks to his lips and nibbled at a bit of fish. You've read romance books, once or twice, seen the pervasive tropes pop up in just about every drama, imported or otherwise. People talk about finding someone that you feel you've known your whole life as something magical. No one talks about how unsettling it can be, how it could get all consuming all too quickly. It's disturbing in some way, the way you can sense the ease with which that could push into entitlement, envy, or just an endless fall. That is why after the first time you and Fukuzawa Yukichi had slept together, passing a bottle of water back and forth after and watching the rim indent into one another's lips when you took a mouthful, throats flexing to swallow, you had never spoken of the event again. You had never invited it happening again, and up until now neither had he. There's something at the bottom of that drop. There's always a hard landing. Somewhere. It felt too easy, being with him. You had fallen in as friends harder than this, feeling out the edges of one anothers' code and ethics, where you could push boundaries into asking about personal and professional interests. Although you never touch them, you knew where one anothers' cracks were.

Just as you never asked him directly about the things he had done in the war, about his suddenly cold reception among the circle you'd met in, he never asked you how you really felt about those people. He never asked if your heart too had broken somewhere during the Great Ability War. The stifling feeling of knowing both too much and too little about someone who trusted you far too much for what you knew suddenly stole all the moisture from your throat. A sip of tea helped, but Fukuzawa's posture had gone back to that waiting. Master swordsman: master at reading any opponent. You told yourself heavily that you were perfectly willing to continue being his heat partner, at least until the way you two distinctly did not push boundaries bored him. He had a competitive spirit to a point. There were goalposts that only he could see, standards to which others were not often held. Stagnancy had never quite suited him. Stillness did. Was that what was at the bottom? Was it the stagnant life of saying nothing and doing nothing and keeping a status quo? Or was it blissful stillness, knowing nothing would catch you and nothing needed to?

It takes almost a year for either of you to bring it up and it's only at the cusp of realizing this is becoming an unhealthy new normal that it happens. It is still incredibly difficult to broach the fact that the physical intimacy makes you feel like strangers but every conversation in between makes you feel like you could get to know him forever.

It's around this time you finally start to really talk. You know how you can know someone for ages, and even be really close to them, but there are long stretches of time where you don't talk about anything important because you're afraid of making the other person do emotional labor for you, and you don't know if they'll mind? That's the first year Fukuzawa and his Alpha have after he comes back.

He acknowledges that you've done things rather in reverse order, as far as the typical trajectory of reconnecting with friends goes. You start to date, more or less, making time to see one another every week or every other week as your schedules allow.

It's a bit strange, to suddenly realize the ways in which you both have changed. Fukuzawa is as principled as ever, but he's unmoored now, without the ties he severed to the military police and the mission it brought. You are somewhat more stable, older and more settled into your own career, but heavier in your soul, sadder. Yokohama is reviving, black towers and tidy apartment buildings rising on the horizon, but it took too much to get here, too much blood before the nation sickened of it.

Fukuzawa won't let you court him.

You're in one of the old cafes that survived all the conscriptions. The owner's son moves around with a tray and a flour dusted apron and the atmosphere is oddly cheerful, despite the recently terrible weather. The last of the summer storms are making a good showing this year and it's limited the places you and Fukuzawa can go. Museums, restaurants, the occasional wander around a particularly well constructed public part of an office building - usually places near your work or his.

You'd tried other things, shopping for food or clothes and paying maybe too much attention to his preferences. You'd tried things like flower viewing or afternoons trying wagashi in specialty shops. While Fukuzawa had seemed to enjoy them and settled easily into the traditional etiquette sometimes called for in these places, he never acknowledged that these might be early attempts at courting.

When you spent time in his apartment he let you scent items in his nest while lounging around or before his heats. If he was at the little rooftop house you were living in, he would sometimes choose one pillow or blanket to curl around and carefully leave it on your spot on the couch when he left.

You looked at him over the rim of your mug and one of his brows went up. When you said nothing, he looked away, tracking the movements of people on the street.

You still partner him when his heat hits, but the sex is worse, as far as that unsettlingly settled intimacy goes. It's wonderful, he's wonderful. Sex itself is not that interesting as a rule, and you're both too aware of the delicacy of the situation to attempt anything like adding toys during his heat or a simple scene to the build up or cool down. But every time after, you want to stay longer.

Fukuzawa shifts his nest, ever so slightly because he is picky about it, but enough so that he can always see you as you move about his home when you need to get food or nesting materials for him, so that you don't have to anxiously flit between the stove and the door in order to sate the need to know that he is safe and comfortable in the aftermath.

You think it's going to end, that the pained distance Fukuzawa now puts between himself and the world is going to pull taught against the growing need to be around one another, to care beyond the dedication of a close intimate friendship.

Everyone can see it-

And then he accidentally adopts a super genius.

This is one of the funnier things that's ever happened to your friend since you've known him and you make sure he knows you think so once or twice.

Once Ranpo is secure in his place as Fukuzawa's ward a few years later, you come up with a way to let Ranpo know he's the best thing to ever happen to your mate and also that you will never ever get tired of imagining the look of shock you know took over Fukuzawa's face when all four and a half feet of teenage whoop-ass came banging through the door of that office.

But that's years from now.

Ranpo peers up at you when you meet Fukuzawa for lunch and a film a week after he's started tagging along with your friend

The boy isn't very tall, but he's got a maturity to his features that you chalk up to either the orphan thing or the child genius thing. He had taken one look at you, seated at the back of the restaurant away from the windows, and it felt like someone crowding into your space even while he touched neither you nor Fukuzawa. You are perhaps overly sensitive of other people's attention. It's another thing that makes being with Fukuzawa comfortable somehow. He's observant, but not oppressive with what he does with that information. Only the second time you'd met he'd helped extricate you from an incredibly uncomfortable conversation with a junior minister in the local commerce department. Now the kid looks at you and at Fukuzawa and pouts impressively. "You're single." He says it like an accusation and an assignment and you could almost laugh at Fukuzawa's wide eyed expression if it weren't for everyone three tables deep around you staring. You raise an eyebrow at him. "He's allowed to be single," you chide, reminding yourself that you are talking to a child still. It's a bit funny, you admit, smiling when the boy glares at you. The waitress comes over when you beckon, bringing tea for Fukuzawa and a sweet layered sort of beverage for the kid. Fukuzawa had told you about the boy's obvious sweet tooth and even though he huffs at you, he takes the tall glass eagerly, poking a straw through the layers. "Does it bother you?" You can't help it. Fukuzawa had said the child was a genius, observant to the point of misunderstanding, his incredible intelligence looping in on itself and making the rest of the world occasionally incomprehensible. It seems unlikely for a child to hold the kind of incredibly conservative prejudice that says omegas should be mated, but he seems put out. Ranpo sulks behind a menu before saying, "I'm never wrong." The meal is quiet, and gradually people stop looking at your table. Fukuzawa excuses himself on the walk to the theater to purchase something from a convenience store. It's there you lean up against the mouth of an alley and look down at the kid. He's really short, you worry someone isn't feeding him enough and the realize that Fukuzawa is going to be that someone. "We're not together," you said. Ranpo looks up at you, clearly still sulking. "You don't have to lie to me," he says, but he sounds a little uncertain. "We're not together in the way you would understand it," you say, "or the way most people understand." Ranpo sees your emotions in your eyes, and suddenly wishes he didn't understand. Your gaze is filled with longing, but he doesn't know how you can't see it's for something you already have. Almost. "He's ashamed of something," Ranpo says quietly. You hunched over a little. "I know. Adults are often ashamed of a lot of things though." He looks at you and wonders what you're ashamed of. "You should probably ask him about this one. He's not very good at saying what he means, but most adults aren't." You're laughing when Fukuzawa reappears.

To everyone's surprise, he actually sits through the movie, happily demolishing the little fortune you'd bought him in caramel popcorn and boxed candies, even if he complains about figuring out the plot five minutes in when you leave

Ranpo doesn't parent trap you two exactly, he doesn't have quite that level of interest in involving himself, but Fukuzawa is good to him, and he sees you often and you are good to him too. Neither of you always understand what he understands, but you show him kindness without ulterior motive, you try and show him how to safely exist around other people.

Fukuzawa is asked to be a bodyguard for Mori Ougai and something about engaging with that man, even though he can't tell you about the job itself, makes him tell you, in a desperate whisper under the moonlight, that it was him who assassinated the war hawk ministers during the peace debates. It's him who is bloodying his blade for something he hopes will be better, even if it turns his stomach, even if it means he doesn't know who he is anymore.

"I know who you are." Fukuzawa tenses in your arms, and you think frantically that you have certainly made a mistake. But you don't take it back. You don't want to. You do know who he is, your friend. You know how lonely what he's done has made him. Only you didn't know what he had done. Now that you know, it doesn't seem to matter. It's distant, the way all bloody things are distant when you don't see them. You've never had all that fond a feeling towards the wealthy people that profit from the abject misery of others. All the hunger and desperation in the world are distant, abstract concepts to them. Why should their deaths not mean the same to you? Of course, you can't say this to your friend, your sometimes lover, lying in your arms. The moonlight drops over his cheeks, turning them pale. His eyes are closed for once, his face turned into your neck, as though he is afraid of what he will see in your eyes. You understand it was not simply one or two storybook villains. There is no human in the world who has done only bad their entire life. Fukuzawa was not prone to exaggeration, even if drama appealed to him. It seems likely he meant it literally when he speaks of wading through blood to put an end to those who whipped up the populace into a frenzy, who wanted for the death never to end. "I know." You stroke your thumb near the corner of his eye, brushing your cheek to his brow, pressing a chaste kiss to the curve of his cheek. "Honor doesn't always mean doing the honorable thing," you say softly. "It means making difficult choices. You regret having to make it, but do you regret the outcome?" He is quiet for a long time. You know he hasn't fallen back asleep, despite the languid warmth between your bodies. He's quiet for long enough that your heart rate returns to normal and you rub your knuckles up and down his back. An occasional burst of deep, faint purring lets you know this is at least appreciated, if not necessarily something he thinks he deserves. You've taken to sleeping together at this point. The mounting danger as different organizations wage new war across the city drives you both to it. Besides, it is simply easier to manage an antsy teenager if you're in the same place, wherever that might be, rather than passing him back and forth like the result of some amicable divorce as you both work to keep him safe and out of the hands of those who would use his intelligence. "No," he says, as you knew he would. "There is nothing to be attained in the way of peace by letting war simply continue until each side is beaten into exhaustion. Withdrawing with our strength intact is the only thing that would save the nation and its people." He says it like he's said it to himself many times. He goes nearly limp in your embrace, pliant as he nudges against you until your forehead is pressed to his. You wonder though- "Is this the first time you've said it out loud?" "What I did is a secret few are aware of." "But the investigations..." "They won't find me," he said, but you felt a shiver go through him, felt gooseflesh rise on his arms. If they did, it could open the possibility for those people to be made martyrs. It was natural for him to be afraid. "They won't," you said lightly. You didn't know what you could do to make that true, but some things needed to be said aloud. "If they catch me, I'll face whatever is decided," he said quietly. "But I won't get caught." "You saved a lot of lives." He sighed. "I know." You rubbed slow circles over the middle of his back. "The sword isn't meant to be used like that. They had lives, families, I-" he swallowed "-I ended that. I enjoyed it. And I have to live with that." His eyelashes too were silvered in the moonlight. "You have to live with it," you agreed, even as he flinched, "but you don't have to punish yourself for it every time you live." You pretend not to feel the wetness on your clothing as Fukuzawa shudders into your collar.

Forever love-

You're truly together and officially courting by the time the Agency is three years old, which is the first more calm year since the Agency opened. Turns out opening a business is a huge pain in the behind and that an ability user Agency with less than half a dozen workers, two of whom are genius teenagers who have totally reasonable problems with authority, is an even bigger pain.

By the time the Agency is four years old, you're mated to Fukuzawa, your mark on his shoulder and his on yours. Ranpo grouches something terrible that the two of you could only get your shit together before he turned eighteen, but he's not a legal adult yet, so you get to officially be one of his guardians for at least a few years. Yosano thinks Ranpo is being ridiculous, but she gives you the biggest bouquet of flowers for your and Fukuzawa's home and insists on choosing the restaurant where you all celebrate.

It's been a very long road. You've known Fukuzawa Yukichi for almost thirteen years, an unexpected friend you made in your adult years now your mate. Now someone who you feel, finally, you've started to earn the feeling you've know them all your life, even though you're still learning about him.

He takes you to his home near Osaka, to his family home on Kyushu. He meets your parents, who consider him a bit quiet, but very dutiful. You meet Natsume-sensei, once, and receive his very feline brand of approval and a quiet gift after your official mating. Fukuzawa takes you back to places he particularly enjoyed during those failed months of courting him. You spend season after season getting to know him, pushing boundaries, debating over philosophies, arguing over interior decorating, agreeing over meals.

Your mate, your partner, a soulmate if you have ever believed such a thing, let alone that it would come to you. You're watching white strands of hair like starlight shoot through his natural grey. The wrinkles around his eyes are deepening. It takes him longer to get up from bed than it used to. His silences are longer, but so are the times when he just looks at you, looks and looks like he can never get his fill. His voice is still strong, but you can feel that layer of age crackling under it. And you love him.

You love the man he has grown into, the one who can bear the weight of hard choices placed upon his shoulders, the one who can bear happily having people who work alongside him. You love his patience with Ranpo and his encouragement of Akiko. You love how he holds his hand out for you if you fall behind on your walks, or how he comes to you and stands close enough for his scent to wrap around you while you point out some small natural beauty.

Love can be horribly consuming, it can stagnate where it was once immediately comfortable or grow jealous at its own ease, unsure if it is charm or affection that ties you together. It can grow desperate and possessive. There are still things that can be so hard to say, old things that left old wounds that are still hard to talk about, but there's something to be said for age and wisdom.

Things aren't perfect, love should not be perfect, and something in you delights in knowing that with Fukuzawa it will always be incomplete. Things will not grow still, there will never be a moment there is nothing to know about him. You have grown into yourselves, the both of you, and this is the love you will grow old with.

#bsd #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuzawa x reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega!fukuzawa #alpha!reader #io.omegas #cw: mentions of potential break up (they don't but there's major relationship growing pains)#cw: oc's and fukuzawa's anxiety #cw: mentions of great ability war and likely ptsd in fukuzawa but also probably oc and ranpo #cw: adopting a child? does that deserve a cw? no idea but ranpo is fukuzawa and oc's love child in all but actual physical truth.#I think Alpha low key adopts Yosano too #baby Alpha is their very adopted kid. Yosano was practically raised by Mori (shudders)#so Alpha is very much the foster parent #she's way more independent and suspicious of being coddled compared to ranpo who wants to be mentored/parented #happy return of bsd this is literally my favorite show sorry to everyone who already wants me to shut up about it

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saltymongoose · 2 years

Note

Can you imagine the main three + 2b with a player that smell HEAVENLY??

just trying to paint a picture here

Being surrounded by the smell of sweat and gun powder all the time and then player just comes in with a whiff of some perfume-y scent??

Do you think it’ll drive them more nuts? Trying to find every excuse to try and be close to them or have them wear their close so it smells like them?!!

Just coming from someone who’s obsessed with perfumes and smelling good

This makes a lot of sense; you and your world are entirely different from Nevada and it's grunts, so of course they'd obsess over your unique scent too. This idea got me thinking, so I made some hcs for it haha. Hope you like em! :)

Their reaction to the Player's Smell ft. Hank, Deimos, Sanford, & 2BDamned

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive behavior, the boys being a lil creepy in this one? Not a lot, but still. This is also extra long. 👍)

Most things in Nevada don’t exactly smell “nice” the way they did before the fall; the scent of smoke and burning debris permeates through the land’s air in most places and many jobs lead to coming into contact with blood and gore, and its pungent metallic scent along with it. For your grunts, it’s no different.

On a good day, your vessels usually smell of sweat and gunpowder because of their work, or strong antiseptic and bleach if it’s 2BDamned. It’s not very “fresh and clean” (or in some cases, it’s too sterile smelling), but it’s normal enough not to warrant any real notice. Either way, it’s a lot better than the scent of blood, and it’s not like they really had any reason to pay attention to it.

In fact, they had become so used to it that they didn’t really consider that you’d be any different; the thought of what you smelled like never crossed their minds that often before they met you in person. (Well, outside of what it’d be like if you shared their scent, but that was neither here nor there.)

So when they actually get close to you and are met with how intoxicatingly good your scent actually is, it becomes an odd focal point for their obsession interest in you.

Sanford was the first to really notice it in full, since he’d been the one to carry you around the first time you met with them. He had been very overwhelmed at the time (since he’d just met the person he’d been “secretly” pining over for months and was now holding them in his arms), so his own hyperawareness of your body resting against his made him really take in everything about having you so close. And with this, your unique scent.

It was kind of flowery and fresh, mixing with your natural smell to make something truly unique. Although he couldn’t place what exactly it was (since flowers weren’t abundant in Nevada), he knew that he liked it. Maybe a bit too much. It was something that was so specific to you that he couldn’t help wanting more of it.

Sanford’s one of the more subtle ones when it comes to getting close to you just to envelop himself in your smell. He’s already pretty affectionate, so the many times he pulls you into a hug and just happens to inhale near your skin can pass off as accidental most times (despite the way the others give him suspicious looks whenever he does so, but that’s normal at this point). Sometimes he’ll hold you tighter to him so that your scent stays with him for a bit longer, something to soothe him whenever you leave his side.

He’ll also do this far more often, so much so that you’re tipped off to how the grunts seem to be completely fascinated by this trait of yours.

Honestly, you find it kind of amusing. You’ve realized by this point that grunts react very weirdly to things that are normal to you, so it made sense that something as innocuous as how you smell would be something to fixate on. They already stare at you quite a lot to take in your unique appearance and exposed facial features (at least from your point of view), so you didn’t mind Sanford’s actions here.

In fact, sometimes you even teased him over it. It’s all good-natured on your part since you didn’t take any offense to your vessel’s weird mannerisms. If anything, you use a joking tone to try and make him less shy about it. Though you have to be a little careful not to give him a heart attack sometimes.

Like that moment he was sitting with you on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and keeping you close as you watched the television that Deimos had managed to set up. You bit back a sly grin when you felt his chin come to rest on your shoulder, turning slightly to ask him nonchalantly: “Is it any different today?”

He gave a questioning hum, and this time you returned his innocently curious look with a knowing one. “My smell?” you replied, taking note of the way he seemed to freeze at your question, “I haven’t been wearing any perfume since I got here. You noticed, right?” He pulled his head away from your neck, flushed with embarrassment as stammered apologies spilled from his lips.

(He fucked up, he really fucked up. He was utterly mortified, shame pricking at him as he moved away. You must’ve thought he was a creep or something now. God, he felt like he was going to throw up. Had he just managed to single-handedly destroy any chance at being your partner? He can’t believe he-)

You interrupted his anxious, self-deprecating thoughts by placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him. “Sanford, you’re okay,” you started, a teasing smile replaced with a concerned frown. You didn’t mean to freak him out this badly. “I’m not offended or anything, really.” You gave him what you hoped was a comforting look and pulled his pliant form a little closer, smiling once you felt him relax at your touch. “I’m just teasing, you can uh… sniff, I guess? As much as you like, I don’t really care.”

Besides this, you’ll try to curb some of his apprehension about the subject by doing things to make it so he doesn’t always have to be by your side to smell you. He doesn’t wear a shirt, so wearing his clothes for a bit is a no-go (and it’s not like his pants could fit you either).

Eventually, you just decide to snoop around for that scarf he wears as part of his “alternate outfits” in-game and have that on you for a few hours before suggesting he uses it. The bashful, surprised look you get in return for your little act of kindness is enough to make the effort of wearing it in this sweltering weather anyway. It looks good on him too, though you wonder how having a scarf on in Nevada of all places could be practical.

Deimos, on the other hand, is not subtle with how he tries to get more of your scent. After all, you don’t seem to mind how physically affectionate he is with you, nor how he buries his face in the nape of your neck to deeply inhale your sweet smell, so why would he try to keep it unnoticeable? Plus, it also really annoys the others, which he finds himself enjoying (even if it’s a dangerous game to play with people like Hank involved).

He often throws himself at you to cuddle regardless, but instead of just being relatively close to you like Sanford would be, he’ll try to press as much of his body into yours as possible. This usually means that he’ll discard his coat and any bandages that cover his arms, not only because it allows him to have the most direct contact with you that he can, but also so the lingering scent of tobacco doesn’t muddle his senses.

Deimos wants to be completely enveloped in everything you; your comforting warmth that spreads through him whenever he embraces you, the hazy cloud that invades his mind when your strings fix themselves to his fingers, and the refreshing (and above all addictive) way you smell. He’d be mad at himself if he allowed his own vices to interfere and pollute his indulgence in these things, so he’ll take every precaution to prevent it. Plus, he’s found that having his bare skin contact you in places really heightens the experience, so he’s happy to go without any unnecessary outerwear.

(You’re reminded of a cat when he wraps his limbs around you and snuggles into your form. It’s his purring, mainly, but also the weird way he seems to rub against you? His arms and legs shift around constantly, and his fingers trace patterns on your body as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. He just doesn’t stop moving. Not unless you start petting him, at least. Then he just melts further into you instead.)

He even tries to cut back a bit on smoking around you, since the smell of his cigarettes tends to overpower most things and he can’t have that. Honestly, a part of you is grateful for this, since it’s better for his health (even if he doesn’t completely quit, unfortunately).

Although one thing that made you raise a brow was his tendency to “borrow” your things, for a lack of a better term. Usually it’s just a shirt or two that you’ve left in your room after forgetting to put it in with the rest of the dirty laundry, and he always returns it at some point but still, it’s kinda weird. To be honest, you’re not even sure why he felt the need to do that, it’s not like you were unavailable if he wanted to cuddle you like usual.

(Well, to you anyway. The others were pretty territorial, and Deimos couldn’t always get the opportunity to catch steal your attention. Besides, it’s not like he’s doing anything bad with them! And was it really so awful to want something to remind him of his future partner when they’re away with someone else?)

(It’s a very irrational viewpoint since you literally live together, but he doesn’t care. To be honest, he doesn’t even realize the full extent of it, too infatuated with you to even think straight.)

It’s relatively harmless in your eyes, especially since you had that interaction where you actually found out what he’d been doing with them. (Well, one of them, at least.) It had been your favorite shirt, a really loose title for something that barely fit you (grunt sizing and all), but it had a cool design you liked. And it seems that you’d misplaced it, which led to a base-wide search.

You’d poked your head through Deimos’ door on a whim (since he’d been in charge of laundry last, so of course he’d know), finding him napping on his bed after a long mission. The feeling of guilt slightly tugged at you when you neared his sleeping form. He’d really worn himself out that day; he didn’t even bother taking his shoes off before passing out, instead just letting his feet hang off.

You leaned down next to him, running your hand over his messy hair to try and gently wake him up. You wanted to be relatively quick with this, since the man needed his rest. He hummed and raised his head a bit, which you took as a sign to start your whispered questions. Hopefully he was awake enough.

“Sorry to bother you, Dei, but have you seen my shir–oh.” You cut yourself off when he lifted his head entirely, revealing that he was quite literally using it as a pillowcase. Huh. Well, that answered it.

“Mmh, wha?” he slurred, voice raspier than normal and thick with sleep. He hadn’t really registered your question, instead looking at you for a moment in confusion. He was about to try and ask you to repeat what you’d said when he noticed that you were staring below him, and he turned to look down, face going pink. Right, he forgot to put that back.

“Oh..yeah, sorry,” Deimos chuckled awkwardly, subconsciously pulling the pillow a bit closer to him. “’m really sorry, I’ll uh..I can give this back to you, if ya want. It’s just, you smell really good, and it’s nice to…fall asleep to..kinda like you’re here…?” He murmured a half-thought-out response, slightly cringing at his own delivery. He really could’ve been more suave with that, but in his defense, his brain wasn’t exactly working well with his drowsy fog. At least it was honest.

Yet it was good enough for you to still his hands when he went to yank your shirt off his pillow, giving him a soft smile as you did so. (You’d honestly found his reaction kind of cute; you didn’t know he missed you this much when you were away. Plus his actions were pretty innocent, even if you knew he was anything but.) “It’s fine Dei, you can keep it for now.” He nods a little, still blushing from embarrassment. Though he gave an elated, sharp-toothed grin when you suggested you stay, to actually be there when he fell asleep. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last time you did.

Hank is a bit like Deimos in how unabashed he is in his attempts to smell you, but he doesn’t feel any embarrassment when you take note of what he does. While he won’t steal your things (at least not yet), he’s content with just having you use his clothes instead. Though his version of asking just includes switching some of his stuff in with yours and expecting you to wear it at some point.

You do, actually (since you figured there was no harm in humoring him), which he takes as encouragement. Honestly, it’s like you have a system going where he’s constantly circulating through things you’ve worn at some point since he does it so often.

But he wouldn’t have it any other way; he views having your unique scent on him as somewhat of a claim, both that he’s yours and that you’re his partner. Why else would he let you close enough to leave it on him?

It eventually comes to the point where he feels like something’s missing from him if he doesn’t have something that has a trace of your smell at all times. Considering how much he thinks about you, you’d think that he’d realize that it isn’t necessary; you’re already his Player and you spend a bunch of time around him already. But that just isn't enough for him.

Another bonus to this little exchange you have going on is that he constantly gets to see you in his things, which he’s a massive fan of. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more adorable than you in one of his shirts. They're usually a bit snug on him (since he has the opposite problem of being a bit too tall), but you could wear them as dresses if you wanted. The collar will slip down one of your arms and the sleeves go well past your hands. Yet you still wear them, and he appreciates it.

Although, Hank's absolute favorite thing to give you to wear is his coat. It's something so specific to him that you wearing it was a clear symbol of his own connection with you, one that ran far deeper than the others could ever hope to have. You don't exactly go around wearing their clothes as often (due in no small part to his own interference when they try).

Besides using his clothes, another thing that Hank does is that he’ll interrupt the time the others spend with you if he believes he’s been “neglected” of your presence and scent for too long. This is typically done in the manner of wrenching you away from your current company and halfway into his arms for a short minute, all so he can give you a small nuzzle and smell you.

(You’re reminded of a cat yet again when he rubs his face against you. It’s probably one of the weirder things he’s done, considering how he doesn’t even make the move to completely remove you from your other vessel’s side (as much as he’d like to). Then again, Hank was always rather impatient, so it makes enough sense for you to merely resign yourself to it when it happens. You know it’s not the most disruptive thing he could do anyway.)

Naturally the others are completely outraged by this. Hank already insists on showing his possessiveness over you by having you wear his clothes, which is infuriating enough to witness (especially since he’s so smug when you walk around in them). But to have him physically encroach on a private moment between you and them? It was crossing a serious line, and one that they usually respected (albeit begrudgingly).

(You perked your head up when you heard quiet footsteps, leaning a bit into Deimos as you turned to see who was approaching the couch where you were sitting. “Oh, hey Hank,” you greeted simply before turning back to the other grunt. (You didn’t notice the suspicious glare Deimos sent Hank as he shifted a little closer to you. He was getting too close to not be trying something.)

But your eyes widened in surprise when you suddenly felt a pair of hands wrap around your shoulders and pull you backward, effectively yanking you out of your seat and forcing you to rest your weight on Hank instead. You flailed for a moment before his grip tightened and he leaned in to support you more, purring as he slotted his face into the nape of your neck and inhaled deeply. He was so close that you could practically feel him breathing against your skin.

Meanwhile, Deimos had reached forward to grip your hips and tug you back to him, looking up at Hank's face before growling at him (lowly enough that he hoped you wouldn't be able to hear). “Fuck off, Hank.” To which the grunt in question moved a hand to flip him off, leering down at him from your shoulder all the while.)

It makes your other vessels angry, but that was expected. He imagines it must hurt to be reminded of how inferior they were in their relationships with you, especially in comparison with him. Then again, he couldn't care less as long as he had you.

2BDamned was actually the last to notice how good you smell. This was mainly due to the fact that he wears a mask 24/7 and because the chemicals he surrounds himself with tend to overpower everything else; it’s only when you’re pressed up close to him that he first realizes it.

Unlike the others, Doc isn’t bold enough to take your things or ask you to wear his clothes to get them to smell like you. For the former, he doesn’t want to scare you off or offend you by violating your boundaries, and for the latter, there’d be no point to it.

As someone who spends most of his time keeping everything in his office and makeshift medbay as clean and germ-free as possible, he knows the harsh chemicals would likely erase any trace of your scent the moment he does anything. It would be a fruitless endeavor; even if he had the gall to ask you to wear his things to begin with, he didn’t want to inconvenience you by having you do it again and again.

However, it’s not like Doc is immune to the same cravings for you that the others so happily suffer from; believe him, if he had the option of only smelling you all day he would. But he just doesn’t find the opportunity for it most of the time (and he doesn’t want to deal with the headache of the others complaining or trying to interrupt his time with you. Like Hank.)

You’ve spent enough time around him to notice how he holds himself back though, and as the Player, you figured it wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t give him as much direct attention as the other three. (And you’ve found that fairness was really important in your dealings with the grunts. You didn’t want any rifts to happen just because you spent more time with one of them.) Besides, you’re used to this weird aspect of grunts by now, so you feel comfortable enough making the first move if he won’t.

No matter how many times you’ve done it, you still manage to surprise him when you tug him out of his chair to bring him to one of your rooms (since you know how private he is about showing his face). The entire time you’re walking with your fingers intertwined, he’s fighting to keep his blush from showing. You have quite the effect on him, and it’d be embarrassing if you knew how flustered he got from something as small as holding your hand.

By the time you’ve shut the door and sat down on your (or his) bed to patiently wait for him, his flush has lessened to a slight pink that colors his cheeks and his neck. It’s only noticeable to you when he removes his mask and he turns to face you, the scars near his mouth happen to obscure the worst of it (one of their few benefits, in his opinion).

After this, it’s like his characteristic restraint has been broken; his movements are rushed and he doesn’t waste any time laying down with you, toeing off his boots the best he can while pulling you closer to him. To you, it’s haphazard (and kind of amusing, was he that desperate to spend time with you?), but to him it’s efficient (yes, yes he was).

His purring is actually pretty loud for once, though you think it’s mainly to do with how your head is resting comfortably on his chest, and you sigh and wrap your arms around him. He seems almost clingy in times like this, with how his hands tighten over your hip and your shoulder, legs tangling with yours as he presses his cheek against your temple.

To him, it’s genuinely overwhelming to have you so close and to be able to take in your scent purely like this. It’s almost like a drug to him; he aches for it when he’s forced to go without it for too long, a craving that’s only surpassed by his need for your presence beside him.

He’s the happiest like this, unbothered by the other grunts in his squad and left entirely alone with you; his most beloved Player. And yet, he still wonders why you bother letting him indulge in you in such a way. He’d expected that you’d find it intrusive, to be quite honest.

(“Don’t you find this strange?” He once asked, voice rumbling against your ear in an almost shudder-inducing way – one that you thought was oddly unfair. You bit the inside of your cheek as you paused to consider his words, ignoring the way red tinted your cheeks as he hummed contently while nuzzling further into you.

“Not really?” You murmured, “I mean I know I smell nice enough, but I guess I wasn’t expecting you guys to like it this much?”

He huffed a small laugh. ‘If only you knew,’ he thought. Yet he didn’t say anything further, not about how truly addictive your scent was to him, and certainly not how it was so just because it came from you. He knew it was the same for the others as well. But that was information for another time.)

In any case, he takes it as a point of pride that you actually seek him out to let him sate some of his desires in this way. Surely it must be proof that you value him above the rest, right? He's the only one you actually go to first for this. Or at least, he's the one you must think about the most, since you were so kind to grant him these little private moments. Either way, expect him to subtly brag about it often, just enough to make the others fall from their high of having your attention. Doc's been called a "killjoy" in the past, but he wears that title proudly whenever talk of your favorite comes around.

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showmethesnowplz · 2 months

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i don't think any media will ever consume my thoughts in the same way as Xenoblade 2's Torna DLC. When you play through the base game, the fate of the Torna party seems tragic on its own, but seeing them for yourself? Going through their entire journey together, knowing they can never have the happy ending they fight for, knowing that every single character you meet cannot escape this unscathed? I will never be the same as I was before.

Hugo, emperor of Mor Ardain? He is a kind, gentle man who wants nothing more than to protect the people he cares about and to fight by his best friend's side. Brighid and Aegeaon are endlessly loyal to him, beyond the level that Blades already are loyal to their Drivers. At the end of it all, he does achieve his goals. He protects Mor Ardain and Addam to his final breath, sacrificing his all to ensure their survival. Brighid and Aegeaon, in turn, were so closely bonded to Hugo yet forced to forget everything they shared with him. Brighid could only rely on what she had written of their time together before Hugo's death, and I can't recall if Aegeaon even had that.

Addam managed to stop Malos for a time, but he still failed. He couldn't prevent the fall of Torna, he couldn't save his best friend and his retainer, he couldn't master Mythra's power because he was afraid of it, and he couldn't ensure the threat of Malos or Amalthus was gone. Minoth managed to find people he could forge bonds with after leaving Amalthus, but he could never truly escape Amalthus's influence. He could never escape the ghosts of his past, being forced to encounter the influence of both Malos and Amalthus even 500 years later despite being supposedly freed by his Flesh Eater status. Mythra ultimately failed to stop Malos and, despite forging powerful connections with the Torna party and Milton, could never truly feel as if she was accepted due to both her power as the Aegis and her personality. After Torna concluded, she made Pyra to "fix" everything she perceived to be wrong about herself, and never felt fully accepted until her journey with Rex 500 years later.

And Lora, Jin, and Haze are quite possibly the most tragic of all. Not only was all of their fighting for naught, not only was Malos still a threat to what they cared about, but none of them were given a chance to enjoy the little peace they had fought to make. Lora was killed by Amalthus's forces within months, her life cut short so early at the whims of a depraved Praetor. She never got to see the Tornan survivors find homes in Tantal or Leftheria, and she left behind so much in Jin, Haze, and Mikhail. Jin lived on after in his own sort of sorrow. He had to consume Lora's heart to keep his memories of her, but grew so disillusioned with humanity that he sought its destruction in just the same manner as Amalthus and Malos. He brought his surrogate son, Mikhail, into the same sorrow, and both lived in this desolate state for centuries before at last being reunited with Lora in death. Haze met the fate of most Blades, losing her memories after Lora's death, but was then violated by the theft of her core crystal and her reawakening at the hands of Amalthus, Lora's very killer. She also existed in a state of lost identity and was used as a puppet and tool for propaganda for centuries before her "merciful" final death at the hands of Jin, her former companion and friend.

Even Malos never received a decent end. He was injured severely, lost a substantial portion of his power, and still couldn't escape the permeating influence of Amalthus as his Driver. He remained a puppet in his own right, never discerning what he truly desired or whether his goal of destroying humanity was his own or yet another inheritance from his Driver. He and Jin could rarely find solace in anyone but each other, as even if they had been foes before, nobody else could truly understand what each had undergone.

The only character who truly received a "good" ending from Torna was Amalthus, who was wholly undeserving of it and made everyone else's lives so much so much more terrible in the process. Despite everything, his desire for the end of humanity and his installation as a god went completely unchallenged. Directly or indirectly, he singlehandedly caused half of the problems in the world of Xenoblade 2 in pursuit of these goals.

In conclusion,

A. Fuck Amalthus. All my homies hate Amalthus.

B. I am feral for these hopelessly tragic characters. As much as it tears my heart apart to see them struggle in futility, I enjoy them and their narratively-induced dooms so very deeply.

#like. none of them got out of this ok. not a single one.#other than amalthus but fuck him.#i love and hate seeing them torn apart by the Plot Maelstrom.#jin xenoblade #lora xenoblade #haze xenoblade #mythra xenoblade #minoth xenoblade #addam xenoblade #brighid xenoblade #aegeaon xenoblade #hugo xenoblade #malos xenoblade #amalthus xenoblade #torna the golden country #xenoblade chronicles 2

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ladyloveandjustice · 9 months

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Spring 2023 Anime Overview: Skip and Loafer and Birdie Wing Season 2

Skip and Loafer

Mitsumi comes from a small, under-populated town and her dream is to become a government official and help her town out. After getting into an elite high school in Tokyo, she moves there and finds that there are a lot of challenges in the big city and new people to meet. Her new friend, Sousuke, is a nice, popular guy, but he also has a troubled past. But Mitsumi is determined to face anything life throws her way!

Skip and Loafer is just one of those shows that’s like a warm hug. Mitsumi is an instantly endearing protagonist- dorky, earnest, and driven. She's overwhelmed moving from her small town to Tokyo, and a little naive about some things, but she's a can-do gal determined to make it work! There's an overwhelming kindness to Skip and Loafer that permeates every inch of it. Characters that would just be a simple antagonist or "mean girl" in other anime have their struggles explored and become whole, realized people with good points and bad points.

Sousuke is a troubled former child star who experiences some conflict, but it's not like Mitsumi 'fixes' him- he simply learns and grows through his experiences with her, both through their conflicts and moments of connection. There's some great female friendships too, and they focus on girls from different social spheres working to find real connection to each other and trying to look past stereotypes and misconceptions. It shows why labels like 'popular girl', 'nerd girl', and so on, are no reason to judge someone.

There's also some nice trans representation with Mitsumi's aunt, Nao, who is a trans woman. Nao-chan's a fun character, who tries to guide her overwhelmed s niece and forms a surprising connection with one of her friends, while still showing off her own sweet and goofy quirks and giving hints about her own life story and how it shaped her outlook. She is also truly wise:

Some brief transphobia towards Nao is shown in the form of people whispering about her on the train, but Mitsumi immediately holds her hand and shows support. Skip and Loafer's kindness extends to the treatment of Nao-chan, and we're clearly meant to cheer for her as she thrives.

All-in-all, Skip and Loafer is a relaxing, entertaining and funny- it has a light touch and a focus on relationships, treating the conflicts and complications high schoolers can face with nuance and empathy. The characters are loveable and the setting is fully realized. The animation is very cute and delivers a couple of beautiful moments. It was the most consistently excellent show I watched this season (even if it didn't reach the highest highs of some other shows) and I think anyone who enjoys slice of life shows, or just wants something that's pleasant to watch but has enough depth to remain entertaining, should definitely check it out.

Birdie Wing Season 2

Premise: Season 2 of the saga where two girl golf geniuses just want to face each other one the green and have their homoerotic sports rivalry like they were MEANT TO, but weird family drama and the actual mafia keep getting in the way.

In my review of Birdie Wing's first season, I completely enjoyed the show's absurdity, but was worried it could all come crashing down in the second season. Fortunately, it did not! Birdie Wing: Golf Girls' Story remains a bombastically absurd sports anime that is fun to watch all the way through. Please come watch these girls get ridiculous sports injuries, scream their super golf attacks, and be ten times more intense than your average shonen sports show.

Birdie Wing also pulled some great moves this season, like having Eve's caddy from golfing high school be pulled into the absurd world of the golf mafia and react to it with the same panicked confusion the audience might. "They're going to KILL you if you LOSE A GOLF GAME? Why is the golf course like this? How much does this cost?" she cries while Eve just shrugs everything off.

Meanwhile, the show finally brings in the bread and butter of sports anime- injuries and diseases that the main characters are going to ignore for the love of sport. But the tired trope becomes wonderfully absurd and almost verges on pointed commentary when it's GOLF, the sport of retirees, causing these ridiculous injuries. Seeing Eve gets covered with bandages because she golfed too fucking hard, or having this line:

...It really throws into perspective how ridiculous sports anime is when it glamorizes people destroying their bodies for the 'love of the game'. I don't know if that was intentional, but it is very funny.

I am immensely grateful that the plot twist I was fearing didn't come to fruition in the show- instead, in classic Birdie Wing fashion, they teased that terrible plot twist, but instead gave an explanation that was a thousand times more soap opera-esque and ridiculous. I have to to applaud that moxie.

But what's important is that the true believers made it through. We're okay. (If you want to know what I'm talking about and don't mind spoilers, please enjoy this meme I made based off a famous tweet by Crunchyroll).

I must share an anecdote- I had to watch the finale while on vacation with my Mom. When she overheard all the yelling, she was like "are you watching a magical girl show?" "no it's a sports anime- they're playing golf" "Oh...why does it sound like a magical girl show?"

Sadly, the finale was a little bit of a let down- it was rushed compared to other parts of the show and felt like less than it could be. (Considering G-witch had the same problem, I wonder if it was a Bandai wide issue).

But it was still fun. While Aoi and Eve sadly do not kiss or become an explicit couple (despite Aoi very much wanting to!), there is at least absurd golf team up moment you could read as being a Super Deep metaphor for their love. Not much of an excuse, but it's something. The end of the show didn't go as hard as it could have (or, I think, should have) but it was still ridiculously, wonderfully Birdie Wing.

I was disappointed Aoi and Eve were separated this season so much (and unlike the first season, did not pine for each other nearly as much during separations since they were busy contending with ridic plot stuff), but on the plus side, there weren't really many 'sexual menace' or jarringly mature moments like the first season had.

Overall, I think it was a really solid follow up, and I can now wholeheartedly recommend Birdie Wing as a show. Just heed the content warnings I left in my first review so you too don't get killed by golf! Once you're ready, let the glorious golf wash over you. You won't regret it.

#birdie wing #birdie wing golf girls' story #skip and loafer #skip to loafer #spring 2023 anime #anime overview #anime #my reviews

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trashlie · 8 months

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Rand the Damned

Something that has become really apparent to me about ILY, especially the more I have these deep dives into the characterizations, is that ultimately, ILY explores characters who are trying to survive. Nearly every character in ILY is clearly someone trying to survive their circumstances, and while some are very obvious (Shinae, Nol, Kousuke) others you need to examine differently in order to see they, too, are trying to survive (Alyssa, Rand, Yui). Something I feel that ILY does especially well is the interpersonal relationships based on both context and circumstances, and why certain characters are able to better get along with each other and others continue to butt heads. For instance, Nol and Kousuke have always struggled because Nol was never able to see what Kousuke's real battle is - that his quest for Rand's acceptance has been but a small part of his psyche. Without understanding how Kousuke has been manipulated, gaslit, and literally drugged, how could Nol ever begin to understand why Kousuke treats him that way?

Abuse and trauma alters peoples' brains. It's not something that you just... one day wake up from and move on. We will spend our whole lives trying to unlearn our unhealthy behaviors, our coping mechanisms and that's for those of us who haven't experienced such brain-altering abuse and trauma. A very common theme of ILY remains repeating cycles - that people who never get to heal, or don't heal in a healthy way, will continue to perpetuate their cycles of abuse, of their trauma, of their unhealthy learned behaviors. Someone who grows up feeling like they are not allowed to express emotions, feeling like they must tiptoe around others' emotions is going to struggle to open up about their feelings, to feel like their emotions are valid, that they're allowed to feel and talk about what they feel, and thus, their relationships with others are impacted. What happens when they are close to someone who feels like they are being deliberately locked out and left in the dark? How do you resolve issues when you feel like you have to pack away your feelings and pretend you're fine, everything is okay?

This is something that permeates ILY at all corners, because it's fundamental to every interpersonal relationship - that we unwittingly pass on the hurt that has hurt us, that our experiences alter our perception, alter our behavior, alter the way we handle things. When I talk about Everyone x Therapy, this is what I mean. Nearly everyone in ILY carries some kind of hurt, some more deeply than others. This includes even the characters we as readers perceive as hurtful: Sangchul, Rand, Yui. Perhaps even Gun Kim, but frankly that is something I cannot bring myself to get into and I think we lack enough information to examine (but even in his case we can look at his father and glean how Gun would turn out the way he did).

Perhaps this will eventually become a series, where I sit and examine some of these characters more closely, as I have with Kousuke and Alyssa. But at this time I'm focusing on Rand, because I find him to be an incredibly polarizing character depending on the take you have. How dare you sympathize with someone who has been such a terrible father tends to be the main gut reaction, but as with all parents of ILY, there is no such thing as a good, perfect parent. At the end of the day, parents are people also trying to navigate their lives with the extra responsibility of someone else they're meant to take care of, to look after, to raise, with few resources and no guidebooks. The one thing ILY has taught me is to re-examine my own life, my relationship with my parents and the ways they hurt vs helped me, and their circumstances. Ultimately, we will always be victims of our circumstances, the results of our experiences.

So! Let's talk about Rand!

Firstmost and foremost, I want it to be clear that I'm not writing this in an effort to make people care about Rand or make him into someone's favorite character, but instead just to help people better understand him and his motivations. Too often I think we fall into the trap of believing that we can only like good characters and that liking those who hurt others or cause harm makes us bad people. But ILY is a fictional story. No one is being hurt. What I think ILY provides us, though, is a deeper understanding of real people and the ways that all people are complex, no matter how shallow they seem. This isn't about making Rand into a favorite character, but instead it's about examining Rand's circumstances.

When we examine characters through a lens of survival, it helps us to better understand their motivations and choices, as well as what is at risk and what they stand to lose which heavily factors into their motivations and why they make the choices they do. There's a lot we still don't know about the nature of Rand and Yui's relationship: were they ever lovers; did she ever fool him into thinking she was something else; was it always a business arrangement? This leads us to further questions, like did he meet Nessa before or after he married Yui? Because so much of ILY is about these cycles and parallels, we can look at Rand and assume that maybe, much like Nol has tried to do, Rand denied himself something he wanted in favor of something else, something he thought he needed more. As a businessman, it's easy to see how perhaps he and Yui were an arranged marriage, something not for love but instead for mutual benefit (and this feels even more plausible given how likely it is that Yui herself was not allowed to inherit the company but instead needed someone who would be adopted into the family via marriage and treated like a true Hirahara and needed him in order to have any role in the family business that she coveted). If Rand knew Nessa before, perhaps he told himself that what he felt about Nessa was a thing that would pass, something he could live without. Perhaps he convinced himself that the ends would justify the means, that his life would be better if he made this choice and denied himself something else he wanted. Love? Love can come and go. You can move on from anyone, anything.

But it's clear to us that Rand never moved on from Nessa. Long after he lost her, he carried her with him in that Bible. He may have told Shinae that it didn't hold luck for him anymore, that it hasn't for a long time, but that doesn't mean it stopped mattering to him. In a time when Nol needed it most, Rand gave up something that had brought him comfort in solace, in hopes that it can provide something of comfort for him, too.

What has been something of a safety raft for Rand to cling to as he treads the waters of survival has now been passed to his son, and I think this is as good a time to examine Rand through this lens of survival, and to better understand why he has made the choices he has and further, that I fear no choice Rand could have made would have been the right choice; it never existed, he was always damned if you do, damned if you don't.

A special interest of quimchee's appears to be female-enacted domestic violence. This has come up a couple times before, and is a theme she's talked about before on streams about wanting to explore, but I think we are seeing that quietly explored in ILY as well, though it's not the forefront of the story. Yui as a character very much is one who leads a reign of reign of terror, who so confidently believes that she is the hero of the story and everyone who stands against her opposes her, and thus are an obstacle to be taken out. Now, I still intend to write at great length about how I view Yui and what are her motivations and drivers, but the watered down summary is: I believe Yui was once the victim of abuse in addition to having always felt like she is lesser simply for being born a woman and bears a grudge against men and deeply resents them for what they are so easily afforded that she is not, that she was never given the opportunity or the space to heal and internalized this to believe that people deserve what happens to them, that those who are incapable of fighting back are deserving of what happens to them. This is integral in understanding Yui and how, yes, Rand's hands have always been tied by her.

I think when I say this, people think this immediately excuses Rand from the hurt he's caused, but it is so very important that we examine the ways that Rand's hands are tied, so that we can understand how nothing could really have been different, to understand why (in his eyes) he is doing the best he was able to. Again, an underlying theme is that people very much are often the victims of their circumstances. Yui herself even touches on this, noting that she is aware she is afforded opportunities, privilege, that most aren't. She herself also takes advantage of circumstances, in order to better orchestrate what she wants. For instance, consider the way Kousuke was left isolated - she took advantage of her husband's unhealthy work/life balance and further drove a wedge between him and his son so that Kousuke would forever feel like he is working towards an (unobtainable) goal, so that Rand would always be greatly out of reach, so that they could never become equals, be peers, so that Kousuke would always feel that feeling of inferiority and then she learned to utilize that inferiority as a weapon against Nol as well as to further isolate Kousuke, leave him dependent upon her.

Yui knows what she's doing, and Rand's circumstances are very much the base of this analysis.

What was the nature of their relationship? Was it simply a business arrangement Rand thought stood to benefit him? Or, a possibility I explore a lot more lately, was it possible that Yui tricked him in some way, took advantage of a more sympathetic nature perhaps Rand once possessed? I don't think we necessarily need to know yet what the circumstances are, because what matters is where that left Rand.

The mukoyoshi theory becomes ever more important the more we learn about these characters, and as we view their situations through the lens of this theory, we start to better understand the dynamics it's created. Supposing this theory holds true - and I believe it must, since we have canonical proof now Rand has taken the Hirahara name as his own - it sets the following precedent: through marriage to Yui, Rand has been adopted into the family as though he himself is a true Hirahara born of their blood, and as it appears that men are afforded more rights/opportunities, in some way Rand holds more rights in Yui's family than Yui herself does. She could not inherit the family company herself and instead had to marry someone else in order to carry on the lineage, had to give birth to a son to carry it on from them. I'm not going to get too deeply into this, because I think this is for another post, but again, this precedence is important because we need to understand why Yui would resent Rand for reasons beyond his affair, why from the very moment he married her he was likely trapped in her web, and why his circumstances were always against him.

Truly the greatest "mistake" Rand likely made was marrying Yui, but we're well beyond that now.

Yui very much is a controlling, abusive partner and it's clear to us now how she's been manipulating and abusing far longer than Rand's infidelity existed. We can see in Kousuke's early memories that the agitation between Rand and Yui in their clashing parenting styles had already become a thing that was wearing him down, that she gloated from her throne where she maintained the upper hand. Yui possesses incredible finesse when it comes to how she orchestrates things, how she nudges the truth, how she hardly has to do any heavy lifting for things to fall right into place. There's a whole essay that could be written on Rand's role in both the company and as a father and the crux of it always comes back to: he was damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. As part of the mukoyoshi concept, Rand has a duty to the company he has inherited, to the family he has been adopted by, to oversee things to ensure things run as well as they can. But as a husband and father, he has an obligation to his family. We see it often in businessmen, in people of the corporate world whose entire livelihoods depend on their career that they must make a choice. At this time it appears as though Yui's father regards Rand favorably, but would he have if Rand had chosen to downsize his responsibilities? Had Rand chosen to be around more as Kousuke was being raised? Especially if it's as we think with the Hirahara family, where childrearing is seen as a woman's role, that this is what Yui should be focusing on and that Rand, the mukoyoshi, had a role to fulfill separate of that?

When Yui told Kousuke that they are different from others, she was not wrong. We cannot view Rand through the same lens we would a man of lesser stature than him. We have to view him through his circumstances.

And his circumstances lead us here: to a man whose wife has probably been playing mind games with him from the get go who is trying his best both as an obligation to the family and his company and also to himself. We get enough glimpses into Kousuke's past to know that it's not that Rand had no interest in his son's life. In fact, Rand on many occasions is seen trying to instill something in Kousuke, trying to help him be aware of both his opportunities and privilege as well as the limitlessness of all that he could grow to be. I can only speculate, but with what we know, I have no doubts there was a lot of clever orchestration on Yui's part as to Rand's availability. They're both chairpersons of the company, and yet one of them was far more tied up - the one of them who is seen as more valuable to the family and company.

I want it made clear: what exists between Rand and Yui (and Kousuke) predates the affair and Nol. Yui was never a scorned lover who took things out on her lover's mistress and son. Had Rand never had an affair, he would still have been in this predicament with Yui and Kousuke, would have always struggled to reach his son as Yui continued to drive that wedge, to orchestrate their differences, to run interference. It was always Yui's intention that Rand be someone so completely out of reach of Kousuke that he would always be stuck vying for his attention, always trying to reach and surpass him, always so hungry or that approval that never came through. It just happened to be that Rand’s affair yielded another child, a potential heir (because it’s through Rand’s blood that the company goes), that she married this commoner man and afforded him everything she’d coveted and he embarrassed her, threw it all in her face, and made her look bad, created a threat to Kousuke’s position. But she already resented him, I think. She already had every intention of using Kousuke to take back what she believes is hers.

At some point, Rand must have grown exhausted, and maybe he gave up. Was that right, was that fair, when he had a child? When giving up hurt that child? When it comes to Rand, I think a lot about the safety demonstrations on airplanes, when they tell you not to try to help others (like your children) until you have helped yourself, until you've got your flotation device, your oxygen mask. If Rand himself is drowning, with Yui running laps around him running him ragged, how can he possibly help Kousuke? How can he possibly keep walking out into a hurricane, getting buffeted and thrown backwards by the wind, using all your energy just trying to catch up, much less ever getting where you need to be?

And that's the thing. When I say Rand's hands are tied, I don't mean it to absolve him - I say it to explain him. That Rand was always losing, that Yui has always had the upper hand. Rand has spent all of his time simply trying to catch up, much less ever getting to make an attack, much less ever getting to be a father.

I think a lot about the fact that at one time, Rand and Yui were separated, but they clearly never divorced. Why? What did he stand to lose if they did? I don't even mean just in his livelihood - though he certainly stood to lose a lot, and what happens to a mukoyoshi if they divorce, what assets would he lose? But more importantly: Rand stood to lose Kousuke. Even married to Yui he cannot protect Kousuke, but to be outside her reach? How much worse could it have been? Kousuke is already so incredibly isolated but we also know that Rand has tried to be Kousuke's father, that he has tried to reach out to him in ways that never reached Kousuke because of the interference Yui ran, because of the mindset that she had instilled in him as a young child that became such an inherent belief to him, because his love was commodified so that nothing he did or said to Kousuke could ever get through to this brain-washed child.

Another aspect of Rand's circumstances that are worth exploring is: he grew up an orphan. He was never adopted, he aged out of the system. Rand never had anyone to rely on, anyone to convey that warmth and love to him as a family might. He aged out and then took his life into his hands and became a self-made man with only his own back to rely on. Think about what that does to a person. Think about the way that might warp their perception of people and kindness and love. Maybe this was why it was so easy for him to choose a marriage for convenience. Maybe this was why he could pass up on the opportunity for real love. Maybe from a young age Rand was disillusioned, thought the world had nothing to offer him - the parallels between him and Nol are honestly staggering. Wouldn't it be so easy to make the choices he did, only to come to regret them later? To get a taste for something you thought impossible, or maybe something you thought you could give up, and be haunted by it?

It's not hard to surmise that Nessa must have been his true love, the one he could not quite give up, the one he couldn't let go of no matter how many years it had been since he made his choices, since he lost her, since everything went so wrong. And I think that as a result, it means that no matter what, his relationship with Nol would always, always be complicated. Nol would always be a reminder of what he had and what he lost - both in love and also in himself.

The parallels are truly staggering, and they extend far beyond the Rand Yui Nessa/Nol Alyssa Shinae cycle repeating itself. The kind of man young Nol described Rand as very much sounds like Yeonggi, like the kind of person Nol presented himself as. Yeonggi wasn't a mask just for Nol's friends - this was who everyone saw him as, including his family. Yeonggi was a means of staying off peoples' radars - never being so bad that he is in trouble, never being so great that he's also in trouble (with Yui and Kousuke). He was pleasant, got along with people, never caused trouble if he could help it. Not once was he roped into the family company - for better or for worse. He joked and laughed a lot, he seemed to always be there for friends. He was so much of what Nessa once saw in Rand.

Was it just that Nessa was the only person who drew that out of Rand? Or was it more of a parallel to Nol, that no matter how hard his life, these were integral core parts of him? Was he, at some point, taken advantage of? Did he trust the wrong person, reach out to someone undeserving? Was his kindness and friendship misconstrued by someone with far more nefarious intentions than he expected?

Something I can't help but think about a lot is the way that Rand always says what he means, but in cryptic ways, in ways Nol - and even often readers - cannot see through, that we have to reread again later. He never explains himself, never says what he means, and what is Nol to do with it, when everything Rand says comes off like a criticism of him no matter what? Much like Rand, Nol is damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. Does he please Rand or does he protect himself? Ultimately, they both have Nol's survival in mind, but one looks far less like it.

Consider Rand's words to Nol at the Kim formal - I don't deny that Rand said truly awful things. Does he fully mean what he says? Probably, in more ways than he can explain. When he tells Nol that he should be at Alyssa's side before someone less pathetic than him catches her attention, it feels both like "Do not leave her alone in a place like this with people like this because she will naively trust the wrong person and end up in a dangerous situation" and also "Behaving like this will drive away people like her". Is this the advice Nol needs? From his perspective, no. From his perspective, Rand finds him pathetic, finds him frivolous, thinks he's childish for being so lonely that he seeks out friendship at any opportunity, thinks he acts out just to spite him.

But from Rand's perspective, perhaps he thinks he is preparing Nol for this life - the family, the company, their social circle - the only way he can. He cannot reach out to Nol. He cannot be a father to him, lest Nol get punished more simply for existing. Rand knows all too well. He knows all too well what Yui is capable of - what she has done - and knows that in order to protect Nol, he had to create a buffer, the distance. In a way, it's like he sacrificed his right to be his father in an effort to keep him safe. For better or worse, Nol belongs to this society, too. He, too, needs to be aware of those around him, know who he can trust. In Rand's perspective, maybe Nol DOES look like he's foolish, going around trying to befriend people who might really be someone looking to take advantage of his kindness, who might be in Yui's pocket, who might be someone who doesn't have Nol's well being in mind. In staying with Alyssa, he's also keeping Nol out of harm's way, because he's not getting involved with anything.

Even though what happened to Shinae at the formal was clearly about Kousuke, Gun, and possibly Rand, it did still ultimately involve Nol. It did still ultimately get him involved and hurt - he wound up arrested and blamed for a crime he didn't commit and later took the blame for in court. Rand isn't entirely wrong: when Nol gets involved, it leads to more trouble, because Yui will take any and every opportunity to make his life worse. Even though this wasn't her ultimate goal (and it could be seen that Nol pleading guilty is not what she expected because Nol needs to be around and near Kousuke in order to be effective against him) it still worked to her advantage that it further plays into Nol's image that the public holds against him, that ensures Yui will be believed over Nol.

Rand isn't wrong: Nol underestimates Yui greatly, because he believes everything is about him and doesn't see how much worse it is, how much more of a monster she is, that this isn't about the illegitimate bastard son being a blight against her marriage, that it was always about so much more. And unfortunately we have seen that Rand is correct about other things, too - about how Nol's emotions get the best of him and while the "shove your feelings down and repress them" route is also not correct and healthy, we can see and at least understand why Rand operates the way he does, why he worries the way he does about Nol.

When I say Rand's hands are tied, I mean this: I mean that Rand has never had the opportunity to be a father to his children because Yui has deliberately run interference between him and one and if he shows any sign of affection, any sign of preferential treatment, any indication that he is trying to protect the other, it would make things worse for him.

He knows this.

Rand probably has an inkling about the night Nol was taken away - the first time he lost Nol. More than anyone else, Rand knows who Yui is, but has always been powerless against her. Without any proof of what she does, what can he do? How do you tell people that she is abusive when she doesn't lay a hand on you? When people make jokes of male domestic abuse survivors? How do you get people to see something that barely exists - because Yui doesn't have to get her hands dirty, because she never has to be direct. How do you make people see it?

When I say Rand's hands are tied, I mean whatever choice he makes would never be perfect, would never be right. What if he did it, left Yui and went to be with Nessa and raise Nol. What would change? Kousuke would be left even more alone. At least until now Kousuke felt that he wasn't good enough to receive Rand's care (even as Rand gave it) but what if he was convinced he was abandoned? And anyway, would Yui have stopped had Rand left her? I doubt it. It was never about the infidelity. If anything, it might have been worse. How dare this man, this commoner, come into her family and embarrass her - THEM - this way, to be given everything no one would give her just because he married her and then throw it away for what? Love? For a healthy relationship? To throw away everything she has coveted and worked so hard for? It would be such a slap to the face, an insult to her.

I don't think there was anything Rand could have done that would be "right". Yui would never let him know peace even if he left. If he fought harder, tried harder, maybe she'd have taken him down sooner. Perhaps not - she needed him to get this far so that Kousuke had someone to work towards, so that Kousuke can surpass him - but that doesn't mean she wouldn't have run him more ragged.

Do I agree with every choice he makes? Of course not. But I acknowledge that in his position, his choices are limited. I also acknowledge that in a man like him who has had to repress his emotions (lest Yui have something more to use against him), who has had to deny that he deeply cares (lest Yui continue to use that against him, to leverage it against him), who has been trying his damndest to survive and to help his sons survive when at every opportunity Yui is there to interfere has limited his choices. I understand where his agitation and fear and anger meet and how sometimes they are the same: how he wishes that Nol was never born because none of this would be so bad because if he'd never fathered another child then he wouldn't stand the possibility of being heir there would be no threat - that Nessa might still be alive, that Nol would never have existed to endure the abuse he did. I understand how he can mean and not mean the terrible things because he knows his role in all of this - that this was never about the infidel but it's still about the infidel, that Nol was always in danger no matter where he was. Reading 149 was the first time I really noticed, on a more immediate level - the way Rand speaks in double meanings, and how his fear and anger come out so often in what he says to Nol, because of how much he fears for him, because of how helpless he’s always been to protect him. “Why do you have to be my son?” Because maybe he both regrets that Nol is his son but more than that - what it means for him to be his son, the danger it put him in – that were he anyone else’s son, Yui wouldn’t have cared about him. He wouldn’t be in a position where he ever had to stand before the judge at all, let alone plead guilty for a crime he didn’t commit. “Why am I even trying, all of the effort will just go to waste”. And is he wrong? No matter the outcome, what good is all this effort? Not only that Nol himself can’t read Rand’s mind, but what if it went differently? Yui doesn’t stop - she has no intention and Rand knows it! If not this, it would be something else! “I should have just sent you away to boarding school from the very start.” Again, I don’t deny that a part of Rand probably means what he says, but I think the secondary meaning is still clear - at least if he’d sent Nol away maybe, just maybe, it could have protected him better. Maybe Rand thought keeping him close would be better, where he could see what was going on, maybe he worried he’d be in more danger if he couldn’t monitor him. Maybe a part of him couldn’t help but send away that one tie he had to Nessa - their child - had wanted to protect him for her.

I think that's the difficult thing about Rand. On some level, he acknowledges that thing are worse because Nol exists - but not in a "I hate my child" way but the guilt of a man who knows his child has suffered for his choices, the guilt of a man who knows that two peoples' (three when we include Kousuke, four when we include his own) lives have been ruined because of choices he made. It's not that Rand doesn't love his children - it's that he loves them so incredibly much and he is powerless to help them, that the effort he makes is never good enough that it makes it worse that it can't get through. That's the great tragedy: Rand was always damned if you do, damned if you don't, and it doesn't absolve him of the hurt he's caused Nol, but I also step back and acknowledge: what could he have done differently, that wouldn't have further endangered Nol? On some level, Rand has done what he thought was right. Only in hindsight can you look back and see how your choices were wrong, but even in hindsight you can only speculate, can only suppose. Would it have been better to send Nol away to boarding school, where he could have been away from everything? But that’s the thing with Yui, isn’t it? Her reach seems to extend as far as she wills it and she always gets her way. If she didn’t want Nol to go to a boarding school, she’d still find a way to stop it. And what if Rand had said screw it, stood up to her? Everything Rand did was ultimately to keep Nol and Kousuke alive, even if it was at the detriment of their relationship. He could have more openly defied Yui, but would she have let him get away with it? And who would protect Nol and Kousuke in his absence, if she did away with him sooner rather than later, if he went from being a fun game to an obstacle to be eliminated?

Rand was always doomed to fail. That is the thing about Yui's trap - she was always set to have that advantage, Rand has always been trying to keep up. There was never a route where he succeeds here, because she always has the upperhand. What could Rand do for either of his sons that wouldn't have backfired? In a way, Rand's game has really been about the long haul. At some point, he must've known he'd never get to be their fathers. He tried! He continued to try. His methods aren't good but he tries to protect Nol, he tries to get through to Kousuke, he tries to give them the comfort he never had the opportunity to, but it's too late, it's all too late, but they are alive and that is what matters.

When Rand shows up after that night of absolute concern and worry, concerned about both of his sons, for the second time he runs the risk of losing Nol. He knows that it's too late, that nothing he can do at this point will help. He knows that at this point it's better to walk away, to leave Nol in the hands of those who can openly love him and openly take care of him, in the hands of those who don't endanger his life for caring. But we know that Rand loves him, no matter how much he has let his fear and anger mix up. We know what it has cost him, what he has lost.

The version of Rand that Nessa spoke of has never shown up. I don't think it's not that he never existed - it's that somewhere along the way he lost himself, the price he paid for perhaps the mistakes he made or the greatness he amassed. Maybe it was both. But he lost himself. He lost his sense of self, his identity. He lost both his sons, in more than one way. Rand, like so many others, is a character whose choices are rooted in his efforts at survival - but unlike others who are struggling to survive themselves, Rand's choices have been rooted so heavily in trying to help his children survive, too. He, more than anyone else, knows how dangerous Yui truly is, knows what she is capable of, knows that this is not only about Nol was never about Nol or the infidel, that it was always about more.

And yes, part of the tragedy is that when it comes to these cycles of abuse, sometimes the abused goes on to abuse, too. Rand closed himself off, repressed his feelings, tried to pretend he doesn't care, tried to hide how much he cared, and it still had ramifications. He did this to protect himself but look how it hurt others. And had done the opposite, it would have further hurt him and them. Something we as an audience come to realize is that Yui is so skilled at her manipulation, her execution of abuse, how she uses everything against everyone. Even her own son tries to hide his interests from her, tries to shut her out of his life because he, too, knows all too well what happens when Yui catches wind of any interest. So Rand closes himself off, he becomes an isolated fortress, an impenetrable island of a man that no one can reach and can reach no one. Maybe it's better, in his mind, that he was a cold, terrible father than one who couldn't protect him.

But the unfortunate truth is: there was so little Rand could ever do to protect them. He failed them, and not for lack of trying, but regardless, it was a failure still. And worse, because he was so blinded to what was happening, because so much of it was happening out of his line of sight, not only did he fail to protect Nol, but he drove him to another unforseen danger, one that he had hoped might be a life raft after all.

In the end, a man struggling cannot do much to save others when eh can barely save himself.

In the end, when Yui ties someone's hands, she does so expertly.

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Randulph Hirahara #Yui Hiraha #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Kousuke Hirahara #Nessa Lochlainn #there's a lot going on in this post and it's mostly me exploring my new favorite subject: that in some way everyone is trying to survive #that Rand is such a polarizing character but also in his position what could he have done differently and it been better?#that this doesn't absolve him of the hurt he has caused but that also as a readers i can understand his choices #and that it sucks #everything about ILY is a tragedy the more you look at it #even Yui is a tragedy I think #and it's just so devastating that these tragedies continue to hurt over and over and over #I understand why people hate Rand and that's fine but #i also hope people understand that Rand has very much had his hands tied all along #that i don't think there was ever anything he could have done differently to yield a better outcome #and that is so depressing

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cassynite · 11 months

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“kissing them as a bribe to keep them in bed” for sparrow and daeran if inspiration strikes!

Thank you so much for the prompt Taylor!! Life really got in the way of getting this one done so it took a minute for me to write it but I had SO much fun once I did start it.

----

Sparrow blinks awake in near-perfect darkness, the soft vague shapes around her only recognizable as her bedroom in Drezen through months of familiarity. Outside the stone walls, she can hear the faintest sounds of a city beginning to wake, shuddering against the pre-dawn chill, but it doesn't quite yet permeate the Citadel. It will be a while yet before sunrise.

It's only her rigid internal clock, trained to be up and moving before the sun, that drags her to consciousness. They had only returned from Wintersun last night and her body aches from long travel and the struggles they'd found there. She hadn't looked at a single problem that had accumulated in her time away, doing almost nothing except collapse into bed.

It's why she's so confused at the warmth at her back, cocooned with her under the thick blankets against the frigid air. From where the covers have slipped off her shoulders, a single, golden-skinned arm rests in front of her, draped over her hip and glowing faintly. She can just hear the gentle sounds of Daeran's breathing behind her, his breath ghosting against her ear.

Sparrow had half-thought it a dream, Daeran appearing in her quarters last night and laughing at her exhausted notice that she was not up for anything but sleep. "I know I have a reputation, but even I'm not in the mood tonight," he said, but then he hadn't left, either.

It was the first night he'd done that--slept with her, just sleep, ever since they first started their frequent liaisons.

Sparrow tries not to read too much into it. Daeran might have decided not to bother going back to his rooms on the north side of Drezen and stayed for convenience's sake; there didn't have to be any kind of emotional significance to him wanting to be in her company beyond sex. Certainly, if his presence last night had helped ease some of the heartache she carried from Wintersun, kept the nightmares of the villagers' screams at bay, then that was just a benefit for her. He hardly could have known about it when he'd tucked himself at her side.

It hurts a little that she wants it to be more than that. Daeran set his boundaries, made it clear what he expected of the relationship when they started--that this isn't one, not really, just some fun and something to distract and relax each other.

And it's a little relieving, to have it at that level--nothing too serious, nothing to get too attached to. Daeran will stay until he gets bored, because that's what he does, that's what he's told her he does, and one day he'll run off to the next shiny person that captures his interest and Sparrow will be an adult about it when that happens.

But. Sparrow knows she's never been good about separating what she wants from what she knows is the truth--that little seed of hope always blooms, frail and pathetic but still insistent. It grows in the roses that still decorate the war room, perpetually fresh and fragrant; it hides between the lines of the note that stays folded on her desk, Daeran's hand telling her to remember him when all else fades. It's in the ghostly apparition of the boy she'd seen at Heaven's Edge, who had everything ripped away from him and had been left utterly alone. Sparrow recognized that emotion, feels that same isolation in herself.

And ever since they started their not-relationship, that feeling of kinship has only grown stronger--she understands him better now, reads his moods more easily, understands his jokes and his thought processes from the late-night conversations they've taken to having, from the way he moves with her. She wants permanence, even if she wouldn't know what permanent would look like with them. Even though she knows that this is ephemeral, and she needs to listen to what he tells her and not just what she wants to hear.

His companionship has made the stress of leading an entire Crusade more bearable, and the feeling of actually being vulnerable with someone has been...nice. She shouldn't get upset that it isn't more, might not ever be more. She can temper her expectations.

Of course, she'd said the same thing when she let herself become friends with Woljif, who told her every moment he would leave, and then she was still devastated when he disappeared, still felt so relieved when he returned. But she can do better this time. She can still try.

And the first way she can do that is by not wallowing. The room has slowly grown brighter since she first opened her eyes, the beginnings of dawn peeking through the heavy curtains, and Sparrow can't justify staying in bed any longer. Daeran's breathing hasn't changed, still deep in sleep, but then she expects he won't rise until mid morning at the very earliest and wouldn't be surprised if she didn't see him awake before noon. Slowly, she slides across the bed, pulling up the covers to climb out without disturbing it too much--

The arm draped over her tightens, pulls her back under. Sparrow twists to look at Daeran's smooth, sleep-still face. A reflex? But then he grimaces, slitting his eyes open blearily. "Cold," Daeran mutters.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sparrow says. Guilt over waking him wars with something softer that sparks at seeing his mussed, open expression, free of artifice and polish. "It'll warm up quickly when I'm gone, just stay under the covers. I didn't mean to wake you."

Daeran blinks, unfortunately seeming to grow more awake with her words. "Is the fortress on fire? Or has someone died? I can't think of any other justifiable reason to be awake at this unholy hour."

That does draw a short huff of laughter from Sparrow. "I'm usually up at this time," she whispers. Really, he ought to know this by now. He's slept through plenty of mornings where Sparrow rose and left her rooms before he even flirted with consciousness. "Really, it's fine. Go back to sleep. I'll be quiet."

Daeran makes a noise of deep grievance. "It was past midnight when you finally went to sleep," he says. He pulls her closer and presses his lips against her shoulder, her neck, then the arc of her jaw. The touches leave spots of sparking heat in their wake, points of warmth that spread over her body like submerging into hot water. "After the nonsense we dealt with getting that key, you deserve more than four hours of sleep. The day can wait until it's actually day, for once."

That sounds so nice Sparrow struggles to remember the weight of all the tasks waiting for her, over a week's worth of administrative duties the excursion to Wintersun made her ignore. "I really--"

The words are cut off by a full kiss, soft and slow and then deepening. It's lazy and tired; Daeran is just as exhausted as she is. "It can wait. No one will care if you achieve some proper rest for once, and if they do you can welcome them to go hiking through these blighted lands in your stead. Stay. The bed is too warm to leave right now."

Maybe he's right. Sparrow certainly feels warm, warmer than even the heavy blankets and Daeran's body can explain. Slowly, she settles back down, facing him this time, hesitantly slotting her body against his. Daeran's arm wraps back around her body, and she closes her eyes.

Sparrow never stays in bed past sunrise. And yet, it is the easiest thing in the world to fall back asleep.

#cassy answers #lairiend #obligatory 'it's been 84 years' joke #oc: sparrow #daeran arendae #sparrowxdaeran #cassy writes #still figuring out their super early relationship!#sparrow's caught between 'everyone leaves' and 'i hope/want this enough to try anyway' that's hard to thread. not sure if i did it here #pwotr pals

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tawaifeddiediaz · 2 years

Note

"How long have you been having these nightmares?"

Thanks for the prompt!

nightmare prompts

[six hundred and fifteen seconds - AO3 Link]

Word Count: 3885 words

There’s not much Eddie prides himself on, but he does on this:

He knows Buck.

The years between them may have done that, sure, but he’s known people his whole life that he still doesn’t feel like he knows.

Buck is not one of those people. Eddie would know Buck blind, senses him before he even lays eyes on him.

So when Buck’s hiding something, Eddie knows.

It’s not the good kind of hiding. That too, Eddie knows.

There are no whispered secrets when Eddie’s got his back turned, no gleam in his eyes, no secret smiles exchanged with Christopher over the table, no fidgeting with the holes in his shirts in an effort to not blurt it out immediately.

If anything, Buck’s eyes lack their vibrant blue — they’re dim, bleak, and staring off into a space where Eddie can’t follow him, supported by nothing but the growing shadows under them.

In all honesty, Eddie had shamefully forgotten how good Buck was at keeping things under wraps when he wanted to. After two years of dating, where Eddie had know every thought in Buck’s head, it’s hard to remember a time where they’d kept things hidden from each other — whether to avoid being too vulnerable, or to stop their own vices from touching the other, or for just being stubborn enough to try and carry everything alone.

So when Eddie starts clocking the forced smiles, the absently placating touches, the paleness of his face and the rarity of crinkles at the corners of his boyfriend’s eyes, it hurts more than he expects, but it worries him, too.

“Hey, coming home with me?” Eddie asks, leaning against the locker room door. He hears the undertone in his voice, and he knows Buck hears it too, if the way he stiffens up is anything to go by.

He’d been about to ask Buck to move in with him two months ago, before Buck started pulling away and the beams of sunshine that seemed to permeate the air around him started to dim. It had been that very night, actually, where Buck’s eyes had been trawling through every corner of the house as they ate dinner, knee bouncing restlessly as if he couldn’t wait to leave, that Eddie had realized that whatever Buck was hiding was something huge.

And the first tinges of fear began to creep up his spine. His appetite lost, he’d spent the evening carefully watching his boyfriend as he and Christopher played their video game, pushing the question he’d wanted to ask to the very back of his mind.

With Christopher, Buck was…Buck. Someone Eddie knew even more than all the parts that made up his boyfriend, because the parts of Buck that Christopher has are parts he doesn’t give anyone else. There’s never been any change there, even with Christopher in his too-cool-for-his-parents stage.

With Eddie, though…things were different.

Buck had kissed the corner of his mouth before leaving that night, a plea hidden somewhere in his eyes for Eddie to do…something. It was gone just as fast as it had come, and there hadn’t been enough time for Eddie to parse exactly what it was — he doesn’t know what.

Maybe it was not to push, or maybe it was something else, but he’s never seen that look again.

He can’t figure out what’s going on, because it’s only with Eddie that Buck’s not like himself with. He’s still smiling and laughing with Jee, making gross jokes with Chim and Hen, still playing games with Chris and Denny.

He’s just…quieter around Eddie — a fraction of the man Eddie’s so deep in love with that he can’t really see around it.

Three months later, Eddie’s still secretly waiting for Buck to tell him that he wants to break up.

So when Buck dodges his invitation for the tenth time in a row, it’s no surprise to him. “Um, not tonight. Rain check?”

What is a surprise is the swirl of hurt and anger that streams up in him, words escaping his mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying.

“How many rain checks do you want?” Eddie asks quietly, struggling to keep a lid on the pain that he knows will flood his veins if he allows it.

This isn’t the time or place to have this conversation, but the thought of Buck leaving him is…unbearable at best, debilitating at worst.

“I just need to do laundry and actually do the dishes. I’ll swing by sometime this week, I promise,” Buck says, something desperate in his voice.

Eddie stays quiet as Buck walks past him without a second glance, suddenly feeling unbearably lonely for the first time in years.

---

In the end, it’s Christopher who convinces Buck to come home, and Christopher who convinces him to stay.

Eddie tries not to look too closely at the glow of happiness in his chest when Buck nods with a bright smile directed in the kid’s direction, even when it shatters a minute later at the nervous look Buck gives him thirty seconds later.

He doesn’t know what Buck has to feel nervous about, but it becomes clearer when night falls, Christopher tucked away in his own bed, and Buck’s standing in the bedroom doorway, fidgeting on his heels.

Eddie doesn’t know what to make of it.

In a sudden jolt, he realizes that this is the first time in three months that they’ll share a bed. He doesn’t remember the last time Buck fell asleep in his arms, doesn’t remember the last time that Buck woke him with pressing kisses and a warm hand pressed over his side, doesn’t remember even hugging Buck in the past three months.

It’s the worst type of distance, to have the love of his life within arm’s reach, but…not.

“Do you want me to go sleep outside?” Eddie asks tiredly, flinging the covers up to get out. The rustle of clothes sounds, and there’s a surprised gasp in the air as Buck startles out of his trance, jumping to hover his hands over Eddie.

Over Eddie, not on him.

“What? No! Why would you do that?”

“You keep staring at the bed like it’s going to bite you,” he says, unable to keep the bite out of his voice.

“It’s not…you.”

It sure feels like it is, Eddie thinks, carefully not blurting that thought out. Instead, he stretches out onto his side, leaving more than half the bed open for Buck to get into, and closes his eyes.

The seconds painfully tick by, a metronome in Eddie’s mind as he waits for the opposite edge of the bed to dip with Buck’s weight, waits for the mattress to settle into the familiar form of Buck’s body as he lays down.

He wonders if the mattress even remembers him.

He can feel Buck’s eyes on his face as he counts the seconds, valiantly trying to ignore the tears pushing at the back of his eyes. Like this, his face turned towards Buck, eyes closed, he’s vulnerable in a way that Eddie doesn’t think he wants to be right now.

It takes 615 seconds for Buck to finally slide into bed with him, and in those 615 seconds, Eddie feels his heart crack into 615 pieces, then 615 more when Buck gingerly pulls the edge of the covers over himself without even a hair touching Eddie.

The foot of space between them feels like miles, and Eddie doesn’t know how to walk the distance to get his boyfriend back.

This time, when he turns his face into the pillow, his tears brim over, soaking into the pillowcase.

---

“Eddie! NO!”

A scream yanks Eddie out of his rough sleep, and he flips around to see Buck thrashing next to him, the covers kicked off of the bed somewhere. He’s crying in his sleep, and his face is screwed up into a grimace that speaks more of physical pain than anything else.

A thousand thoughts run through Eddie’s hazy, sleep-drenched mind, but he scrambles to sit up, calling Buck’s name as he goes.

“Buck? Buck, wake up.” He resists the urge to touch him, not knowing how he’ll react, but when he calls Buck constantly over the sounds of Buck’s screams, he knows he has no other choice. “Buck.”

Eddie shakes his shoulder once and Buck jolts straight up, blinking rapidly as he heaves breath after breath. His eyes dart to every corner of Eddie’s room as he struggles to pull himself together, and the sight is just as heartbreaking as it was the first time Eddie had pulled him out of a nightmare.

“Buck?” Eddie says, ducking his head to catch his boyfriend’s eyes.

Buck seems to register Eddie in front of him, because a rough sob drags out of his chest just before he flings himself into Eddie’s arms.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with the choking emotion that wraps around his throat, but he cards one hand in Buck’s hair and the other around his trembling body, trying to hold him together as he cries and falls to pieces.

“I’m right here,” he soothes, pressing his lips to Buck’s sweaty forehead, smoothing back his hair. Buck shakes apart in his arms, fractured glass that pricks at all the places they’re touching, but Eddie would bleed himself dry if it meant putting Buck back together again.

The growing distance between them evaporates into nothing in this moment where Eddie’s seeing Buck’s nightmare like it’s his very own — and maybe it is, because seeing Buck like this is straight out of one of Eddie’s.

Eddie keeps rocking him, the bed frame creaking as they sway side to side. Buck’s practically huddled into Eddie’s lap now, curled under his chin like a wrestled ball of pain and anguish. He keeps his voice in a low murmur as his hands sweep patterns all over Buck’s skin, holding him close.

He shouldn’t be relaxed, but underneath all the worry for Buck, there’s a thin thread of relief for getting to hold him close again, braided with contempt and grief for the situation that threw them together like this.

He tries not to think about it, tries to focus on just where Buck’s sobs turn into sniffles, then hiccups, and then slow, even breathing. His heart cracks when he realizes that his boyfriend’s cried himself to sleep, nestled against Eddie’s shirt, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

Carefully, Eddie lowers them into a more comfortable position, taking care not to jar Buck awake. The cover settles quietly over their shoulders, Buck’s face tilted towards him in sleep. His breath ghosts across Eddie’s damp skin, and the stubble growing on his jaw pricks through the wet spot on his sleep shirt.

It’s all so intimate that Eddie has to look at the ceiling for a minute, closing his eyes as a stray tear slips down the side of his face. His heart still hammers in his chest, even as Buck sleeps soundly with his hand twisted in Eddie’s shirt.

He’s stared at Buck countless times like this — more so in the two years they’ve been officially dating — but it’s never felt so fearful before. Five hours ago, he was scared of Buck — of Buck leaving him, of losing one of the best things to ever happen to him.

Now, he’s scared for Buck — for what it means for these nightmares to come back, for how quickly Buck’s shifty behavior over the past few months is adding up to an equation Eddie doesn’t know how to read without all the variables.

Eddie stares back down at his sleeping face, a furrow still between his eyebrows, and feels a swell of affection and loss so strong that it nearly knocks him off the bed.

He risks pressing his lips to Buck’s forehead, breathing in the scent of shampoo from his hair to center himself as Buck noses at his collarbone, settling more comfortably in his sleep.

The world could tear itself apart before Eddie let go of Buck.

---

“How long have you been having these nightmares?”

Buck flinches from the question.

The kitchen is weirdly silent this morning, Chris not here to fill the gaps between stilted sentences and awkward looks. It’s been silent for a while, too many failed attempts at conversation hanging between them.

Eddie and Buck have never struggled to sit in silence with each other before, but here they are, the weight of the secrets piling up between them stretching each silence into a tomb that leaves Eddie paralyzed most days.

“A while,” Buck answers eventually, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. It’s a bald-faced lie, and they both know it.

Eddie waits him out, settling into his seat with his arms crossed to stop from folding Buck into them and refusing to let go until they fix whatever it is that has him screaming in the middle of the night.

The stubbornness pays out. “Three months,” Buck admits, his voice too quiet.

This is what Buck was hiding, Eddie realizes, his world flipping upside down as the equation comes into stark view. This is the variable he was missing, the last piece of the puzzle that makes the picture make sense — the timing.

“Is this why you haven’t stayed here? Why you go back home so often, refuse to stay?”

Buck nods, eyes fixed on the ring of spilled coffee on the kitchen table. “I didn’t want to keep waking you up during them. I didn’t want Chris to see me like that.”

Eddie stares across the space between them, searching Buck’s expression. Hope kindles in his chest, and flames higher when he sees the truth to those words, and suddenly—

“So you’re not breaking up with me?” he blurts out before he can stuff the words back down his throat.

Buck’s brow furrows in confusion as his head snaps up to look up at him. “Breaking up with — Eddie, what? Why would I break up with you?”

After the events of last night, it feels foolish to talk about something like this, but Buck’s looking at him all bewildered, and Eddie doesn’t want there to be more secrets between them.

“I felt you pulling away from me,” he explains quietly. “And I thought you were going to break up with me. That this wasn’t what you wanted anymore.”

Buck looks at him dumbfoundedly, guilt and fear and apologies flashing across his features as he scrambles to shove his chair forward so their knees are interlocked.

The relief that lifts him could make him fly, Eddie thinks as Buck’s arms come around him. He leans forward to press his face into his boyfriend’s neck, feeling ridiculous for letting their conversation derail like this.

“No, never,” Buck breathes out, his words ruffling Eddie’s hair. “I’m sorry, I just…I knew that you would know immediately, and I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want to put this on you, and the only way I could think to do that was…”

Eddie exhales a long breath, taking in the warmth of his boyfriend’s embrace in return. He reaches up to curve an arm around Buck’s shoulders, keeping him as close as two men leaning forward in their chairs can possibly be.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers. “I thought we were past keeping things like this from each other. Then why…?”

The question trails off his lips as the answer slams into him, right with the memory of Buck’s scream for him last night.

The nightmares are about him.

“They’re about me,” Eddie half-guesses, his gut telling him that he’s right. “The shooting.”

Buck stiffens, drawing away from him as he scrubs his hands down his face. His eyes are back to being fixed on the table.

Eddie watches him carefully, twisting his own fingers into his shorts to stop himself from touching Buck.

It all makes sense — how tired Buck looks, avoiding any situation that would lead Eddie to find out. Buck would do anything to protect Eddie from remembering one of the worst days of his life, but unfortunately for him, they know each other a little too well.

“Tell me about them.”

“No,” Buck says, looking at Eddie with red-rimmed eyes. “I can’t—”

He chokes up and trails off, but Eddie leans forward then, giving up his fight with himself to press a palm against his boyfriend’s knees. “Evan, I’m right here, alive because you risked yourself to get me out of the street. There was nothing more you could’ve done.”

It feels inadequate. Eddie knows it’s not enough, but it’s the God-honest truth. They hadn’t known about the sniper until Eddie got shot, but there was no denying that Buck had put his life on the line to save Eddie.

“I see you die in my head every night,” Buck confesses, closing his eyes, face screwed up in anguish. “Every time I look at my hands, I see your blood on it, and even when you’re right in front of me, I keep thinking you’re a ghost. Like I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. Like the past three years since then just…don’t exist.”

Eddie studies him for a second, then reaches behind himself to slip his shirt off. Curving his fingers around Buck’s palm, he brings it to his chest and flattens it against the scar.

Buck’s eyes fly open as he stares at the puckered skin in between the splay of his fingers. Eddie calmly waits, letting him see.

“Eddie—” Buck chokes out.

“There’s nothing more you could’ve done,” Eddie repeats. “But look. The scar is much less noticeable than it was back then, remember? You used to call it a mood ring.”

“Red when it hurt, white when it didn’t,” Buck murmurs, still wide-eyed.

Eddie huffs out a low chuckle. “Exactly. Now, it’s just scar tissue — proof that it’s healed over.” He lets his hand drop, but Buck’s stays there, warm and protective over Eddie’s bare skin. “We are never going to forget what we went through that day, but we’ve built ourselves past it. Why risk that?”

Buck sucks in a breath, eyes suspiciously glassy. Eddie cups his boyfriend’s cheek to keep his face turned towards him. “Buck, baby, I love you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep this hidden from me just because I went through it too. We’re partners, right? That’s what it means to have each other’s backs.”

“I didn’t want to remind you of it,” Buck whispers.

Eddie smiles ruefully. “It’s not something I ever forget, but I have you, and I have Christopher to remind me of being alive. These past three years...they exist, and they’ve been some of the best of my life because...because I finally got you after what feels like looking for you my whole life. I don’t want anything to take from us. But right now, I’m worried about why these nightmares came back for you.”

Buck shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to lose you either. I just...some days I look at you, and I see the smudges of blood on your face and it terrifies me.”

Eddie knows what he means, and it explains why Buck hasn’t looked him in the eye, but he can’t deny that it didn’t hurt. “Did you make an appointment with Dr. Copeland?”

Buck slowly shakes his head, his fingers shifting over Eddie’s skin to trace patterns. “No.”

Eddie sighs. “You know you have to.”

“I know, I will,” Buck says, hesitating for a second, an apology printed over his face. “Eddie, I promise I was never going to break up with you. You have to believe me, I promise.”

There’s a type of desperation that lines the words, for Eddie to understand him, and he does. The space between them feels less heavy with secrets now that they’ve put it all out in the open, but maybe last night, Eddie wouldn’t have believed him.

But this morning, with the reminder that the trauma they’ve gone through in the past few years could come back at any minute, Eddie doesn’t think there’s anything to do but believe him. The tsunami, the well, the shooting…everything they’ve been through has taken away chunks of their lives — Eddie refuses to let them take away Buck, too.

The distance of three months still smarts sharply in his chest, but that’s for them to get through together. He doesn’t want there to be another moment of misunderstanding.

“I believe you,” he says, leaning forward to tip his forehead against Buck’s. “Just…don’t do that to me again. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“I love you,” Buck says, tilting his head to connect their lips in a soft kiss. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie hums and drags him closer, Buck’s chair tipping forward. Buck laughs quietly and abandons it to straddle Eddie instead.

Something in Eddie’s chest calms under Buck’s weight, from holding his warmth close after months of feeling cold. He slips his hands under the hem of Buck’s shirt, pressing his palms against the slopes of Buck’s back to keep him pressed close. He’s not ashamed of how needy he feels right now, just as desperate to quiet that sinking feeling of loss in his gut.

Buck stays quiet as Eddie explores him, gets reacquainted with the knobs of his spine, the dip at the small of his back, the warmth of his skin. Buck explores him the same way, fingers carefully curving around his arms, then across his shoulders.

There’s no expectation for more at this proximity. It’s just them getting to know each other again, to say hello and leave their marks in all the places where they might have disappeared.

Eddie thinks that Buck’s a part of him that he would never be able to erase, even if he tried.

“I missed you,” he says quietly, tipping his forehead against Buck’s collarbone. Strong, familiar fingers card through his thick hair, scratching lightly as the other traces Eddie’s bare shoulders.

“I missed you, too,” Buck returns instantly, the conviction in his voice bringing a smile to Eddie’s face. “Want to go back to sleep for a while? Can you…can you just hold me?”

Eddie nods, even though he’s comfy enough to never move again. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Exhaustion seems to weigh Buck down as he heaves himself off Eddie’s lap, but there’s nothing less than eagerness when he pulls Eddie out of his chair, guiding them to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispers again, when Eddie’s got him wrapped tightly in his arms, their legs tangled together.

“I know, it’s okay,” Eddie shushes him, moving to press a kiss against the crown of his head. “Just get some sleep, I promise we’re okay.”

Buck twists in his grip, flipping until they’re face to face instead. “I love you.”

There’s a hint of that vibrant blue in his eyes again, and Eddie smiles when Buck kisses him, then kisses him again.

There will be another healing period, but right now, in this bubble with Buck where his boyfriend’s hands ghost across his skin, Eddie can’t think of anything that he wants more than this.

“I love you, too.”

#zee writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buck x eddie #911fic #911 fanfic #911 fox #911 on fox #oneawkardcookie #usernymika #userceecee #useralie #userisha #userdahlias #laurenlook

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qwuilty · 1 year

Text

One Nine Hundred (Postal 1 Fanfic)

Hiii guess who has more time to fic write :3c My spring semester is coming to a close so i have less time caught up in homework and decided to get back into writing a little!

It's a postal 1 fic cause of course. It's based on the easter egg of going up to the payphones and hearing women moan.

Warning that it does start sexually, nothing actually NSFW progresses besides some initiation, but it cuts off from there. No ships included, unnamed narrator character, mostly just focused on writing P1 dialog and all. And of course, canon typical descriptions of violence, fic below the cut! ^^

Another long night.

The woman checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror again, sure her clients never saw her, but it felt like she still needed to dress up a little for the occasion. Working at these kinds of call girl gigs wasn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world, but she could manage the ones calling and it paid her bills, plus it was kind of nice working from home even if they had to supply her the phone to use. Something about making sure she wasn’t dicking around and calling friends on their hours.

At the ring of her receiver she quickly left the small bathroom, closing the door behind her on instinct as she made her way to the bed. Taking a short, deep breath, she quickly answered. “Welcome to Angel’s Kiss hotline, how’re you doing honey?” Her voice naturally fell to a sweeter tone, something to keep them feeling comfortable and sell the fantasy a little.

“Hah.. Feeling a little down. Wife’s been driving me up the wall, practically had to sneak out to get away from the bitch.” Oh great, a married guy. Course, it wasn’t surprising, she’d gotten calls from them before, it was all business to her, but they always had such a complex about it. “Mhm.. I bet, must be hard living with someone like that, you must get real lonely at night..” Of course, nothing wrong with playing into that a little, gave her extra material to work with. The sound of commotion in the back and his whispering tone told her the guy probably ran off to some payphone looking to get his rocks off for a bit.

He continued on, complaining about his wife to her in a whispering tone as she just let him go on and on for a while. Her eyes idly glanced around her bedroom, wondering if she needed to clean some of that laundry in the hamper, shifting a little on the soft sheets before he allowed her a moment to speak. “Poor thing. Don’t worry about her tonight sugar, you can trust me to take good, good care of you.”

Appealing to the fantasy was always more her strong suit, taking the bits the callers left her and running from there. “Tell me, what’re you wearing, handsome?” More just a formality, but he was eager to describe and play along, giving her some time to think it over and get her details consistent. “Wh- What about you, gorgeous?” Shit, he was done already. “Ah, I'm wearing a nice, pink nightgown. Soft, satin. Maybe a little something extra, but you’re going to have to find that out yourself.” A little giggle and he was already hooked.

“Oh hoh.. I’d love to find out, you-” The sound of his voice was cut off by the sound of something loud, like an explosion that even she could hear ringing in her ears. The man’s voice became panicked, swearing as the phone fell down, the sounds of gunshots, screaming, all permeating in the air through the phone as she could hardly bring herself to breathe, let alone hang up.

She huddled up on the bed, hunching into her legs in a sort of fetal position. Soon the commotion died down, only the sounds of footsteps and some horrific, terrible gurgling in the distance. “Sir…?” Her voice quivered, trying to choke out whatever words she could. “Sir, are you okay? Is everything okay there?” A spine chilling silence filled the room until a voice responded. “Hello?”

This wasn’t her client.

His breathing was laborious, sounding like he had just run a marathon, if there wasn’t such a physical barrier between the two it’d feel like he was breathing down her neck. “Hi… Do- Is everything okay?” She stammered, holding onto the phone cord so tight she felt like she’d break it in two. “...No. It’s not okay. Where are you?” Her heart skipped a beat, she wasn’t going to let this fucking creep know where she was! “...I’m sorry, I- I can’t tell you that, that’s against policy.” She swallowed, closing her eyes roughly and hoping to god that’d get him to drop it.

“Are you at least outside of Paradise, Arizona?” Her eyes opened, looking besides herself. “Yeah… Yeah I'm far away from there.” He let out a sigh of relief, that seemed to satiate him. Truthfully she wasn’t that far, but hell if she was going to let him know that. “Thank god. Look, I'm going to be honest with you, please… PLEASE hear me out.” His voice was soft, trying to make sure she could understand his words, but he was clearly upset and the sound of car alarms going off in the background didn’t help him sound any more calming. “There’s something going on here. It’s not- It’s not SAFE.”

She let him continue, fearing the worst if she interrupted. Getting on this guy’s nerves didn’t seem like a very good idea. “There’s some kind of disease, this horrible sickness. It’s makin’ everyone here crazy, they’re like- It’s like watchin’ fucking wild animals, circling around waiting to tear into each-other.” His voice got faster, gripping the payphone roughly. “Listen. Listen. You’ve gotta- It’s- Warn the others. I don’t know if anyone outside knows about this. It could be some real deep shit. Maybe even governmental scale here. And I don't know if I'm makin’ it out alive.”

Every part of her screamed to hang up, to call the fucking cops and hide in her closet until she knew it was safe. But she just couldn’t. It was as if her very body had tensed up, frozen still. “I need you to tell them. I’m going to save everyone, I'm going to make sure this doesn’t spread any further. I don’t know you, and I'm guessing you don’t know me either. But please.” He almost sounded like he was going to cry at this point, his breathing was hitched. “You gotta help them. It’s- Shit!” She jumped a little, she was nowhere near the danger but she had been so caught up in his words she almost forgot about the situation at hand.

The phone dropped again, voices shouting, something about Arizona State Police, then gunfire. The sounds of several men dying at the hands of whoever the hell had picked up that phone. When it finally ended, all she had left was the dial tone and her room, now feeling a cold sensation around her and a deep sense of fear washing over.

“...Sir?”

“Sir, are you there?”

#postal #postal dude #postal 1 #fanfiction #i havent written or at least written to post in a hot minute. thank you to my friend for beta reading for me and making sure it made sense #in the future i may write something less horror and more fluff with p1 but to start im pickin something a little more canon-tone like

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hereliesmystuff · 5 months

Text

The Final Act

Based on the The Labyrinth of Gedref.

****

“There are two goblets before you. One of the goblets contains a deadly poison, the other goblet, a harmless liquid. All the liquid from both goblets must be drunk, but each of you may only drink from a single goblet.”

“What kind of ridiculous test is that? What does that prove?” Arthur spat.

He injected as much venom as he could into his words, desperate to convince himself that this was all just a silly little game. To have raced out to the edges of Camelot, nevermind the prospect of failing his people once more looming over him, nevermind his fears of inadequacy gnawing viciously at him, nevermind his father’s disappointment beating down on him – it was all beneath him, really. Now seated by the relentless grey seas, he blamed the waves crashing against the rocky shores for the pounding that echoed in his chest. The wet salty air clung onto him, and he accused it of leaving moisture on his skin and squeezing the air out of his lungs. He spent no energy dwelling on the implications of the sorcerer’s instructions, deliberately glossing over the fact that there were two at present, but only one that would endure in the end. The fact that it was Merlin, of all people, who was here sitting across him certainly didn’t mean anything.

A lonesome ray of sunlight broke through the thick clouds above and fell on the pair of golden goblets in front of him. Under the light, they shone innocently, oblivious to the weight of the role they played. The liquid within was so still and dark that Arthur felt that he was looking into a bottomless pit, not unlike the one in Arthur’s stomach. As he stared down its depths, the pretence he previously put up fell away, laying bare the rawest core of his being.

He had known what the test was for the moment he had seen Merlin by the shore. Everything had been cast in grey, from the barren rocks and murky waters, to the overcast sky and heavy clouds. What lonely rays of sunlight that managed to permeate through the dreary clouds only highlighted the extent of the bleakness surrounding them. Even his metal armour and Anhora’s white robes blended seamlessly into the vast mutedness. Merlin’s dark curls had stood out brightly against the lifeless backdrop.

He had known when he felt his heart tumble out of his chest. It had renounced the security of its ribcage and plunged itself into the deepest pits of his stomach, where it lay beating dully against his spine.

“Let him go,” he had protested.

“Merlin is part of the test,” had been the reply.

He had known.

Now the two of them were sitting at a stupid table, on stupid tree trunks with their stupid legs awkwardly tucked underneath them because they were too tall for the stupid set-up that the stupid sorcerer had arranged for them.

“I thought I told you to stay at home,” he said to Merlin.

He was searching, in his anger, for someone to blame. He was like a child, running away from guilt and shame. He was afraid that by admitting that perhaps he played some role in this mess he was in now, that perhaps some of the fault lay in his doing, he would be confessing to the mortal sin of not being good enough. He had taken great pains to hide what he thought was a truth as fundamental as time and space: he was unworthy of existing. It was his fault that his mother had died, and so he spent his entire life repenting. It was his fault that his father couldn't look him in the eye, and so he spent his entire life justifying his existence. He decorated his shame with pride; he filled the holes of his being where love should belong with assertions that he didn't need it; he poured his essence into becoming the best knight in the realm; he shattered the cold, rigid bones of fear so that it would better hide within his stony, stoic confines of his helmet; he strangled the voice of his inner world to please his father. For so long he had tied the conditions of his existence to his duty to others that if anything were to suggest, or even lightly ghost over, the possibility that Arthur had broken his penance, had failed to protect the ones he loved, that he was indeed an irredeemable murderer, he could not bear it.

So he was angry at Merlin for defying his orders. He was angry at Merlin for putting himself into danger. He was angry at Merlin for this entire mess. If he had just listened–

But then Merlin looked at him with the same stubbornness he displayed whenever Arthur caught him stealing his food – the exact same one that implied that he was only sorry for getting caught – and his anger had promptly rolled over and died, leaving in his place the guilt and the shame he had desperately tried to ignore. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault that his stupid selflessness got himself dragged into Arthur’s mess. Merlin was in danger because of him. If he had just listened to Merlin.

In many ways, Merlin was a better man than Arthur could ever be. Merlin – for all his incompetence in handling a sword, his fearfulness of dark corners, and, much to Arthur's annoyance, his disrespect towards his sovereign – was the bravest and most honourable man Arthur had ever met. Merlin regularly threw himself into danger without a second’s thought, simply because it was the right thing to do. He was the complete opposite of Arthur, who couldn’t bring himself to challenge his father, who sat in silence as injustice stood in front of him and who was sometimes even its perpetrator. Merlin was so inherently good that it put Arthur to shame.

Of course, the perennial curse of imperfect people is that they often fall in love with perfect people – it is nature’s way of reminding the imperfect of their imperfection, by cruelly dangling in their faces who they can never be and who they can never have. And Arthur loved Merlin. Loath to admit it, he loved Merlin’s insolent streak. The same sharp tongue that insulted Arthur's waistline also advocated fiercely for the right cause, gave Arthur counsel that he needed and defended those who could not defend themselves. The same resistance he showed against doing basic chores he also showed against unjust orders and tyrannical power. The same clumsy hands that often broke his plates also tended to him gently, checking to make sure his armour was secure and massaging away the aches of the day.

Merlin was a hurricane of good, unyielding and steadfast in its mission, and Arthur found himself caught in the torrents, spiralling deeper and deeper towards him.

And Merlin was here now, prattling in his ear about ways to cheat around the test, oblivious to the love that raged inside Arthur.

“It is perfectly simple. One of us has to die.”

In the face of death, Arthur found himself at ease.

The crown came with the heavy price of knowing that one day, he might have to die for his kingdom. A righteous king would have to walk into the arms of death for his people, his duty to his people being his only source of courage. But this was not that sort of test.

He looked at Merlin, who was frowning at the goblets in front of him, still prattling. Arthur half-heartedly entertained his ideas. He already knew it was him who had to die. He was more focused on watching the man in front of him. He watched how the sun fell on him, highlighting the strong slope of his nose and the sharp ridges of his cheekbones. He watched how his lips moved as he talked, memorising every curve and articulation of his smile. He watched as his eyes flickered between him and the goblets, counting each eyelash and drowning in his gaze. He was regarding Merlin, not with the gentleness of a lover, but with a sort of desperate determination of a hungry beggar presented with a feast. This would be the final image that Arthur would have of Merlin and he wanted it to last even in death.

“I'm glad you're here, Merlin,” he confessed. There was no running away now, so he spoke the truth. “You never cease to surprise me.”

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to confess his love. He did not want to burden Merlin with the love of a dead man. He did not want him to bear its implications and consequences alone. Above all, he was simply afraid. To speak of it was to bring it into existence and no language in the world possessed words that could accurately capture the sheer purity and trueness of his emotions.

So he would die for Merlin and he hoped that his death serve as his confession, poignantly articulating the ferocity of the love that danced delicately in his heart.

also on ao3

#merthur #merthur fanfic #my post

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