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writerthatcannotwrite · 9 months ago

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TROP SEASON FINALE SPOILERS!!!!!

Elrond, my baby, my little guy, my poor soul.

DWARF RANT:

King Durin, may you rest in the Halls of Aule with honor.

I've seen a common theme in this series: people who had lost their minds, but found them in the last moment of shocking clarity that was (almost) their last noble act.

Celebrimbor, cutting off his thumb to escape (Which was very "I'm honoring my Uncle Maedhros" core, which I very much appreciate) and saying, "Whose will is the mightier?"

I can go on another rant about that phrase and the implications, but that was last episode.

King Durin III awoke the balrog, literally Durin's Bane.

Prince Durin and Disa's kiss was iconic, fyi.

Prince Durin tried so hard to help his father, but in the end, he couldn't stop him. Well, he alone couldn't stop his father; what truly set King Durin over the edge was the knowledge that his son might die. King Durin saw the balrog, something that he had willingly called forth, and went, "Holy shit, get the boy OUT". And how did King Durin get his boy out of the balrog's fire? He sacrificed himself.

Throughout this entire season, I have seen nothing but poor parenting from King Durin; he never listened to his son's advice; he literally shoved him away, and into a wall (My first thought was, "CHILD ABUSE!!! CHILD ABUSE!!!! GO GET DWARF DFCS!!!"). But here, we see the true affection King Durin had for his son.

The cataclysm that brought King Durin clarity was not anything his son could have done by himself, but the knowledge that his son was helpless. King Durin was not going to let his son suffer something of his own making, so he charged the balrog.

And then died.

HUMAN RANT:

Okay, so Kemen (I finally learned his name, unfortunately) needs to get off of his swampy ass and tumble into a grave. It'd be so simple; Isildur just needs to *grab by lapels* *shift three spaces to the right* *drop in hole*. Simple! Easy solution! Would the Valar be very happy? Probably not, but hey! We'd get rid of Kemen!

And I do appreciate Earien's technically treasonous act for her father; by now, she is a pretty prominent figure in Numenorean politics; the right hand of the king's right hand.

And you know what confused me?

The way Pharazon---I'm not calling him Ar-Pharazon, he doesn't deserve that---gathered up all of the RELIGIOUS LEADERS of the Faithful and said, "Yeah, sorry you're conspiring with Sauron, aka the DEVIL so you and all of the Faithful are to be arrested. Sorry."

One of the main things that always strikes a cord for me is religious freedom; when these wrongs are shown in this show, it makes me SO angry, because people should be able to practice their faith freely, regardless of whatever religion the government favors.

The sacking of Nienna's temple, the prosecution of the Faithful in earlier episodes, and now the legit imprisoning of people who are Faithful.

Recently, I have been reading "The Crucible" in class, and we have been discussing the causes and effects of mass hysteria, one of the contributing factors of the Salem Witch Hunts. I feel like there might be bought of mass hysteria going around Numenor now; the king/queen-ship is a major dispute, the Faithful are being arrested, major political and social leaders of the community have been imprisoned. People can likely accuse others of being Faithful (Even if they aren't) because of petty rivalries. In the Crucible, Mr. Putnam accused George Jacobs, his neighbor who had lots of land, of witchcraft, so that he would be able to purchase his land.

How many people in Numenor would face a similar dilemma?

Would Mr. Smith the Sailor accuse Mrs. Johnson the Tailor of being an Elf-Friend because her tapestries looked a little too much like those of Vaire? But it doesn't matter that Mrs. Johnson's only daughter is of marriageable age and Mr. Smith has had his eye on her. But who would be watching that if Mrs. Johnson was an Elf-Friend?

All of these factors are the most basic ingredient for a good ol' bought of mass hysteria; my English teacher doesn't watch this show, but I'm tempted to tell her the similarities.

then, to Isildur.

I thought Theo and Isildur's hug was very nice.

Theo was like, "Ah, yes, I shall bid my friend farewell after discussing the traumatic deaths of our mothers. I wish him well!"

And Isildur's like, "Why is the kid who hated me yesterday wanting a hug???"

I always got bad vibes from Estrid. I get swearing servitude to Adar in exchange for your life, I get that, but.

I never felt comfortable with her and Isildur's relationship. I get that she wasn't able to decipher her feelings for Hagen, her betrothed, until she met Isildur, but seriously. I also know that Isildur has an "unnamed wife" (SCREW THE NOT NAMING OF FEMALE CHARACTERS IT MAKES ME ANGRY), so I know he's gonna get somebody EVENTUALLY, and before Numenor sinks.

But then, Isildur and Estrid started MAKING OUT in Theo's kitchen. Like, bro. THAT'S NOT YOUR HOUSE!!!! Do that ELSEWHERE!!!!! Better yet, don't even do it!

And then, that slimy bitch Kemen had to stroll up, all, "Yeah, we'll put the watchtower there, knock down a few houses to do it." And then, he tries to be all buddy-buddy with Isildur, who obviously realizes that something is a bit off.

Then, Kemen drops the ball, saying that his father is wanted for treason, Queen Miriel is no longer queen, and "low men" are not allowed in Numenor.

First off: very classist of you, go kill yourself, Kemen.

Second off: Isildur learns that the woman he saved from the fire is no longer queen; is he thinking that his sacrifice, everything that he's endured in Middle Earth, has been for naught?

Third off: Kemen mentioned Earien. Does Isildur know that his sister has gotten a little racist in his absence? How will he react to seeing his sister betray their entire family by literally trying to put them all in prison (Anarion, Elendil, AND Isildur)?

Kinda happy that Estrid wasn't going to Numenor. Don't like the circumstances, but I'm glad that she isn't going.

I also think that Earien is coming to her senses; she might not have wanted Miriel on the throne, but now, Pharazon's tyranny is affecting HER. HER family is being prosecuted. HER father is wanted for "treason". HER people are at risk. Earien is getting a rude awakening to this thing.

I also think that its interesting how that guard left when Earien told him to; it shows how people in power are STILL defying the law in Numenor, all because, "Oh, she knows the king's son."

Of course, Earien did this for a good reason, but it still demonstrates the corruption of Numenor's political system.

Then, Miriel and Elendil. As I was watching this my mom, I was like, "Hey, do you ship it?" and she was like, "Oh, yeah" and I was like, "Good, my assumptions are not unfounded."

So yeah, Anarion, Isildur, and Earien are going to be getting a step-mom, good for them!!

What messed me up was when Miriel was like, "No Elendil, you must go, I will stay." Like Elendil (And us) were under the impression that she would remain with the Faithful; Elendil draped the cloak over her shoulders and she didn't flinch, she listened to his plan, but when the time came to make the decision she stayed. Frankly, I don't understand WHY, but go off girlie, I guess.

ELVES:

Okay, so Galadriel getting the refugees out of Eregion, I really liked; in cannon, Galadriel and many of Eregion's fled Eregion and headed south. Then, Galadriel gave up the Nine to save the refugees (Iconic, Queen Behavior), and we see Adar, leaning against a fallen tree. Is he injured? Is he hiding? Has his hand been conveniently cut off by some guy on an eagle? What happened?

After dismissing the orcs, Adar turns around. At first, I didn't see any difference (I'm not very observant, sometimes, alright?), until I looked a little closer. His face was no longer scared and burned; his hair seemed thicker, cleaner; he looked less gaunt. The ring had healed him.

And then, Galadriel asked for his name, but he evaded the question, like a little BITCH.

"Adar was the name I chose for myself" blah, blah, blah, bah, JUST SAY MAKALAURE YOU IDIOT!!! Sure, there are some details in cannon that don't line up (Maglor wasn't strung up on Thangorodrim, Maedhros was) but here's the thing: not only has trop changed a few things, it made some things more accessible.

In trop, Elrond and Elros were found by Galadriel after the Third Kinslaying, not the sons of Feanor. Celebrimbor was supposed to be tortured for TWO YEARS before his death. Celeborn is still supposed to be present.

I also have a cannon-probable idea for Maglor being Adar; in Maglor's trauma and grief at loosing his last and first brother, could he have not clung to his brother, in all aspects? Maglor may have curated this story of hanging from a cliff because that's what happened to his brother, that idea is what keeps him close. The things about being with the orcs and Sauron, I can't really explain for this idea. That's just about as far as I got.

But Adar WILLINGLY returned the ring to Galadriel, proving that he truly meant to defeat Sauron with elven help. But then, there is an injured Uruk nearby, and Adar goes to help; he might not even be able to heal him, but he will be with that Uruk in his last moments.

And then.

The Uruk, Glug, I think? leapt up and stabbed him. All of the others followed suit. It was a mirror to Sauron's own death in the first episode: betrayed, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed, stabbed---

You get the gist.

By the end, Adar is well and truly gone. He raises his hand to touch one of the orcs, his children, and calls them such, but the orc stabs him again, one, final time.

The entire situation is disheartening; sure Adar might have been willing to risk his "children" in his hunt for revenge against Sauron, but he cared about them, well and truly. In exchange, the orcs killed him for his kindness.

In the end, I really do want to know who Adar was before his chaining to a mountain. Did he have a family? People he loved? He must have come from Cuivienen, so he probably did.

I also wonder where he would go after death. Now that his hroa (Physical body) is well and truly... extinguished, where will his fea (Spirit) go? Do orcish fear (Spirit, plural) go to the Halls of Mandos, or somewhere else?

Adar looked vaguely elven; he could walk in sunlight, unlike his children. I feel like he should go to the Halls of Mandos; he did many terrible things, but were they not in the pursuit of good?

Then, Celebrimbor's death (These are not in the order of the scenes, just what I remember).

We see streaks of blood on stone floor, and we know something has happened.

Then, there's Celebrimbor, BEING USED AS TARGET PRACTICE, with arrows in his arms. Sauron stand over him, grim, and he wants to know where the rings are. They bicker and banter, there's some (un)healthy badinage, and Sauron STILL says that Celebrimbor's pain is HIS fault, that Celebrimbor brought this upon himself. Even though Celebrimbor is well and truly destroyed, Sauron STILL wants to have Celebrimbor guilt-ridden and full of self-loathing. It sickens me.

And then, Celebrimbor has something to say. He says, "forsee", and Sauron stops. I doubt Celebrimbor has had many visions of foresight, but the line of Finwe is not without them; did Miriel not have a vision of foresight to name her son Feanaro? Was Galadriel not gifted in seeing versions of the future? So it is possible, especially since Celebrimbor is SPOT ON. It WILL be one ring that brings about Sauron's downfall, and Sauron will fall. Sauron realizes this, and runs him through with a spear. Celebrimbor is lifted onto the pillar (Which is what I think we're going to get as the Celebrimbanner, unfortunately; I would have loved to see his cannonical death) and finally dies.

Then, Galadriel and Sauron's duel. Sauron turns into different people to try and fool Galadriel, but by now, she is used to trickery. He turns into puppy-dog-eyed Halbrand (Annatar was literally just Halbrand in a heat-damaged wig and shaved, Celebrimbor should have seen that IMMEDIATELY). Then, he's Galadriel herself, depicting her darkest, most evil deeds and desires. Then, Celebrimbor, mocking her for her retreat. Franky, I thought he was going to be Finrod as well, but alas, it was not so.

And then, he stabbed her with the crown (rude) and Galadriel, salty to the last, PRETENDED to give Sauron the ring. Very slowly, just to watch the pride and greed flash in his eyes, and then, "If I can't have it, then neither can you." Not what she said, but what she MEANT.

And girlie does and Elwing. Too many people in season two have dove off of cliffs; Elrond failed to beat the mama's boy allegations by jumping off a cliff with an object of power (In this case, three). And I was wondering if these guys actually thought that Ulmo was gonna come in clutch and turn them into birds. I mean, he did it for Elwing, so why not her son? Why not some other random person jumping off of a cliff?

In the end, Gil-Galad approaches (I'll get to that part in the beginning with Gilly and Elrond, hold on) and knows that Galadriel cannot be healed. She has the Second Age equivalent of a Morgul wound. It festers with dark magic and cannot be healed.

But who do they have?

THE healer!

The top dog of his graduation class from Lindon's School of Magical and Physical Healing!! Elrond Peredhel Earendilion whatever other name you give him! He's THE healer! Just standing there!

So of course, Mr. Healer is all dramatic, like, "No, we can heal her" through the power of friendship of course, and perhaps these magical rings.

I do think it's interesting how the rings will heal scarring and a Morgul wound; I think they only heal physical wounds, not those done to the spirit (Fea).

And then, we appear in a grassy, bright area, with Gil-Galad watching over Galadriel. He says that it is safe, a sanctuary made by the rings. This is, of course, the beginnings of Imladris, Rivendell, the Last Homely House. In cannon, Elrond and refugees of Eregion fled north, and founded Rivendell.

The river down the center HAS to be the Anduin, I guarantee it.

When the offer of the sword or shield pops up, I though that Galadriel would choose the shield; after all, this series is basically about how Galadriel went from a brutish, hyper-angry, traumatized elleth to a proud, wise, kind Lady of Lothlorien. I thought she would choose the shield, protect what her people had lost so much of, but she remains silent. Gil-Galad chooses the sword.

That scene of the elves raising their fists in defiance felt odd to me; even the children were seen raising their hands. Elves reach their majority at approx. 100 years, so what are these children, who have never seen battle and bloodshed except for that day, doing, wanting to wage war? It reminds me of Feanor and the unrest of the Noldor; a people that knew no bloodshed, and in their innocence, went to their deaths. It worries me.

Alright, one of my favorite parts: Elrond and the Scrolls.

Elrond, Gil-Galad, and Arondir are brough to a city square and we see orcs piling scrolls to be burned. Elrond, who is obviously a scholar, I mean look at him, is outraged. Not only are these the last ties he has to his cousin Celebrimbor, they also hold invaluable scientific information; it's like destroying the elven version of the Library of Alexandria.

Then, my baby boy Gil-Galad is at sword-point (Very scary, but I know what his doom is so I wasn't THAT scared), and just barely saved. Ngl, I had thought Arondir had died in Episode 7, so it was good to see him still kicking!

My favorite parts were Celebrimbor and Annatar's scenes and Elrond's dismay at the scrolls. I would also like to say that I think Gil-Galad slayed in every scene he was in.

Well, then. I must go google when Season Three is expected to show up.

#silmarillion #galadriel #celebrimbor #elrond #the rings of power #trop #trop season 2 #rop season 2 #i love celebrimbor #gil galad #adar rings of power #adar #rant post

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always-andromeda · 2 years ago

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 3268

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ I’ve loved this man literally since I was thirteen…so it’s inevitable that I’d be writing something absolutely fucking filthy for him in my twenties…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), gaps in age and power, mutual masturbation, little bit of panty sniffing, a singular use of Y/N (I'm sorry, I hate it too but it was necessary), usage of pet names (sweetheart), general manipulation, slight praise kink, obvious disclaimer: the dynamic in this fic is just that, fictional, and should not be practiced in real life!! let me know if any other warnings are needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

You’d rarely had luck receiving any sort of grace from your professors. Sure, there were a select few that only wanted to see you succeed. However, more often than not you seemed to encounter sadists who decided to take their kinks out on exhausted college students. But you were convinced that Professor Winchester wouldn’t be like that.

For starters, he’d always been challenging but never malicious. Despite the fact that you’d registered for his Norse Mythology course with the assumption that it would be easy college credits, you quickly learned that his assignments were difficult. Every week there seemed to be about a hundred pages worth of reading, frequent essays, and an emphasis on class discussion.

Oh, did he love those class discussions. While most were less than enthusiastic to contribute to lengthy examinations of Eddic poetry at eight in the morning, Professor Winchester seemed to be none the wiser of this.

He was always squinting over his thin wire framed glasses, surveying the class. He’d stand at his desk, brushing his long hair behind his ear while looking over papers. When he’d listen he’d purse his lips and tilt his head, expression rife with genuine interest. In all of these moments, he was the most gorgeous. But more than that, you were fascinated with his mind.

Professor Winchester knew this material like the back of his hand; was able to pull references and quotes from various pieces of literature at the drop of a hat. He was the only professor who could ever give notes that were actually helpful on essays and he’d always been generous with handing out extra credit assignments. Which is what you aimed to obtain on this visit to his office.

You looked through the glass of his office door and saw him inside, working diligently at a dark oak wood desk. Taking a deep breath, you turned the doorknob and entered.

The hinges squeezed but Winchester seemed so fixated on whatever was before him that he only raised a finger, indicating for you to wait. So you did. Awkwardly. You rocked slightly on your heels, your stomach starting to twist in time with the movement. God, he looked like a dream lit by the stained glass banker's lamp as he graded papers.

In another world you could see him coming home from a long day, his body warm behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Smelling like black coffee and pencil shavings, you'd adoringly close your eyes, taking in his scent and ask him how his day went. He'd hum in contentment when resting his chin on your head; you're his rock, his soulmate, the reason he stays sane despite dealing with probably hundreds of students and the frustrating dance of academic bureaucracy.

It's a fantasy that broke the second Winchester glanced up and said with a hint of surprise, "Miss L/N! Come in, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

Relieved that he can pick you out among the sea of students from his classroom, you move forward until you reach the chair. You set your bag down on the floor and settle into the worn leather of the seat as Winchester eyes you expectantly.

"What can I do for you this afternoon?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "Actually, I was hoping that you could help me out with something."

"Oh, what might that be?" he furrowed his brow.

"Um..." you started. "I'm sure you noticed that I didn't do too hot on the last exam."

"Ah, I did," he said simply.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, actually." Winchester opened up one of his desk drawers and sorted through some files before pulling out a packet you recognized as the exam you'd taken the week before. "You seem so engaged in class discussion and you've been doing well on everything else. This...this felt rushed. What happened?"

The soft expression of concern on his face only increased your shame. In all honesty, you'd wasted half the exam time away staring at him. He'd worn a red sweater over a cream colored button up that day. Then he'd rolled up the sleeves before handing out the exam papers. It felt stupid to admit that you'd been distracted by his goddamn forearms.

But you had been. You couldn't resist watching him as he'd circled the room, keeping an eye out for cheating. With his arms folded behind his back, you got the best look at the back of him. His long legs clad in khaki. Strong, tanned forearms corded with prominent veins. Shoulder blades pushed back confidently as he walked. Everything about his solid stature had your mind far, far away.

You'd been good at making sure your daydreams wouldn't get the better of you. But this time, before you knew it, Winchester was glancing down at his watch and announcing that you had fifteen minutes left for exam time. You had no choice but to rush through the rest of it, writing down answers that hardly even made sense just to fill in blanks.

Now those answers laid before you, condemning you to a low D– that dragged down your entire grade.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Professor. I thought I studied enough but I guess not."

Though you'd attempted to laugh off his concern, Winchester obviously wasn't budging. "But these are rookie mistakes. Number fifteen for example. Where do the gods live?"

"Easy. Asgard."

"Right, but here you marked down the answer for Valhalla," he slid the paper around so you could look at the question.

Sure enough, there it was, your frantic pencil marks filling in the bubble for the incorrect answer. Damn.

"And that's just on the multiple choice questions," Winchester continued, flipping through the pages. "You barely followed any of the directions for the long answer questions. Your response to the short essay portion was a paragraph too short. And it was too unfocused."

Unfocused is right, Professor Winchester.

"I hate to say it...but I was a little disappointed."

The sting of tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. So you cleared your throat and blinked them back quickly. Voice trembling, you answered quickly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't on my game and I thought I'd pay you a visit so I could plead my case. I'm willing to do any kind of extra credit assignment. I don't care how much work it is. I'll do anything to fix my grade because I really want to do well in your class and–"

Winchester raised a hand, urging you to stop. Then he spoke, "Listen, I can see how badly you want this. So I'm going to make sure you get it. Just...let me think."

With that, Winchester rose from his seat and began to gather the papers that littered the surface of his desk. He stacked them neatly before opening a different drawer and laying them inside. After he closed the drawer, he made his way around the desk. You tried not to look at him as he made his way around the room, especially not when you felt his hand brush against the back of your chair. But you couldn't not notice when he drew the shade on his door's window and closed the blinds to his window, leaving the room dim save for the yellow light of his desk lamp.

Once he'd made his round, he returned to his chair and rolled back, leaving a massive gap between himself and the edge of his desk.

Then he did something else you didn't expect.

He patted the wood and said, "Come. Sit on my desk. Let me look at you."

You almost wavered on the direction when he cleared his throat expectantly. That brought you to your feet and compelled you to settle waveringly before him.

With his lips in a tight line, Winchester studied you. He tilted his head every few seconds, letting his eye flicker from your uncertain expression to your body. You sat up a little straighter in an attempt to satisfy his observation of you.

You weren't quite sure what he was doing, but it made you nervous; made you vulnerable in a way you weren't used to.

"I may have one extra credit opportunity that I can offer. Special. Just for you."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can start by spreading your legs."

Your eyes went wide. "Professor Winchester, you're not–"

He cut you off quickly, "First, after office hours, you may call me Sam. Second, I'm not going to touch you. I'm simply asking you to give me a– a presentation," he decided.

"What kind of presentation?" you asked.

Your feigned innocence made the man chuckle softly. "The kind of presentation I'm sure you give in your dormitory bedroom every night."

There wasn't an ounce of jesting on his face, but still you played dumb. "I have no idea what you're referring to, Sam." His name felt foreign yet familiar on your tongue. Probably because you'd whispered it many times before in the exact scenario he'd described.

"I'd hoped you'd tell me the truth about why you were so distracted during your exam. But since you haven't been forthcoming, I guess I have to spell it out for you, haven't I?"

You swallowed hard and blinked nervously.

"You thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" he chuckles again. "It's hard not to notice when one of your students, especially one so beautiful, is practically drooling all over their table."

The scraps of flattery were evidently working on you as Sam smiled when you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as your skin got all warm and tingly. So he kept going.

"Besides, you're too intelligent to do this terribly on something you should've aced. Maybe you wanted to fail it. You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to waste your time, I was just–"

"You weren't wasting my time. Wasting your time is continuing this pointless back and forth when you could instead be proving yourself."

"Proving myself?"

"Yes. Spread those legs...and earn your grade," he ordered.

Breathing in and out slowly, you did what you were asked. The knots in your stomach told you this was wrong. But the smile of approval that slowly grew on Sam's lips said that this was exactly what you both needed.

You'd never been more embarrassed to be wearing a skirt. One the fabric pooled around your hips, it only framed the damp patch on your underwear. Perhaps part of you had wanted something like this to happen. Because your pussy was already pulsing after simply being observed behind the cotton curtain that soaked up her anticipation.

"Very good," Sam breathed out.

"What do I do now?" you asked.

"Just...play with her. Show me what you like to do to make her happy."

You nodded, then pursed your lips as you thought. If you were going to present to him...you might as well go all out. So you shifted each of your thighs around, pulling down your underwear until your bare ass was planted on the desk and the garment was caught on one of your ankles. You lifted your left and held it out gently, the panty hanging in the air a little below Sam's face.

"Take them," you said. "Visual aid."

He smirked lazily at the offering before pulling them over your shoe, being careful not to actually touch you. Sam balled them up before bringing them to his nose and slowly breathing in the scent. You could tell he enjoyed it thoroughly as he let out a deep sigh from within his chest.

"With how wet these are...it's good to know you were prepared even for a surprise presentation. I knew there was a reason you're my favorite."

His words went straight to your cunt as a few drops of slick leaked from your hole and landed on the dark wood beneath you.

"Go on," Sam urged, gaze flickering to the drops of you on his desk. "She's waiting. And so am I."

You began to treat yourself with the same level of care as you did when you were alone. One of your hands reached up your shirt and you cupped one of your tits. You kneaded the flesh for a few seconds before focusing on the nipple, pinching it until it pebbled and poked through your shirt. The action made your breathing turn ragged.

You finally let your other hand travel south, bringing warmth to the soft skin of your thighs. Wanting better access to yourself, you pulled your leg up, resting a foot on the desk itself. Then you reclined back and let your fingers roam where they wanted.

Using two fingers, you spread your outer lips, only exposing yourself to Sam’s scrutiny even further. The cool air hitting your most vulnerable part, you shivered as goosebumps erupted across your skin. You looked up at him, gauging his approval of your performance.

“You’re doing so well already, keep going,” he encouraged, hardly concealing the arousal that clung thickly to his tone.

You took the praise with pride. It emboldened you enough to slip your two fingers between your folds to gather up some of the slick. You couldn’t help but feel mortified as you involuntarily gasped when your digits brushed slightly against your clit.

Sam let a quick puff of air out his nose. “Sensitive?”

“Mhmmm,” you whined.

“Bet you can’t even touch that pretty clit directly without crying, huh?”

You nodded.

“Then be gentle. I want you to last for me.”

You took that to mean that he didn’t want you touching yourself there yet. So instead you switched to focusing on your entrance. It wasn’t often that you went straight for penetration. Rarely did it bring the kind of relief you craved.

But you had the feeling that Sam would want to see it; to see your fingers filling yourself up and stretching you out.

With your fingers practically pruning already, you pushed one in ever so slowly. It took a second to adjust to the slight pressure, but still you began to carefully pump. The slick squelch only intensified when you slipped another one in and sped up your movements.

Though the pressure increased and built up tension in your belly, you could already tell it wasn’t going to go anywhere. You bucked your hips pathetically against your own hand, trying to get deep enough to hit your g-spot. But no matter how far you tried to probe, it was useless. Your fingers simply weren’t long enough.

Your eyes went wind, catching sight of something that most likely could reach that spot inside you. While you’d been fucking yourself, your professor had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped himself out. There he sat, your panties in his hand and wrapped around the thick length of his cock. The angry red tip poked up and out of the fabric with each slow thrust. And you could already tell based on how long his strokes were that you’d most likely be able to feel him poking against your belly from inside you. The idea made you moan and throw your head back.

Sam swiftly reprimanded you, “Ah, remember your eye contact. I want you to look at me.”

Shame spread over your body. What the fuck was going on? Were you really fingering yourself on his desk right next to papers that he was surely going to return to students? Was Sam really fisting his own cock with your underwear? And were you actually enjoying this?

“Sweetheart,” Sam’s self control faltered slightly with the name. But it grabbed your attention nonetheless. “I need you to look at me. Let me look into your eyes when you make yourself come on my desk, alright?”

This was about more than fixing your grade. This was about pleasing him…by pleasing yourself. And as you returned his look, you were all in.

Under his watchful, half lidded, hazel eye you allowed yourself to focus on your aching clit which laid in wait like a pearl beneath the hood of skin covering it. Carefully, you pulled that hood back before lightly spreading some of your slick with a finger. You let the skin settle back in place over the sensitive nub before going straight to work.

You began to rub slow circles on the hood and finally properly moaned. It took only a few seconds for the muscle memory of your nightly ritual to kick in as the pleasure started to mount. Finally, all of that pressure in your core had some actual weight to it; a weight that was already beginning to roll in shallow waves over your whole being.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let me hear you loud and clear. Don't wanna miss a single sound from you," Sam groaned and you caught how the grip he had on himself tightened, how his pace quickened.

While rolling your hips against your hand, you pulled up a side of your shirt, exposing even more of yourself to him. Now he could easily see one of your tits rise and fall with your staggered breaths. He could see how the ball of fat dimpled under your fingertips as you squeezed and pulled at your hardened nipple.

Both sources of simulation had you whimpering breathlessly, "Sam, I-I'm so close– Let me come, please?"

Sam glared and asked through gritted teeth, "That's not my name. What do you call me in class?"

"Professor?"

Sam nodded darkly.

You took the cue quickly and begged helplessly, "Please, professor, please let me come–" you were cut off by the sound of your pleasure starting to push you over the edge.

Sam left you teetering, staring right over the border of this boundary. That boundary being an ethical nightmare that you had no clue how you'd navigate. But you wanted to be good for him; you craved his approval.

And thankfully, Sam gave it as he groaned, "There you go, good girl. You can come, you've got permission."

With that, you arched off the desk and burst with glorious clarity. A thin stream of your arousal drooled from your entrance as you rubbed yourself through the enormous implosions and the small aftershocks that followed. Your head was heavy with the fog of pleasure and you wanted to hang it back, give it a break.

But still, you were determined to keep your eyes on him, even as you pulled your fingers away from your trembling cunt and stuck them in your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the wrinkled digits, soaking up every bit of yourself that you could.

Any sort of professionalism Sam had been trying to maintain up until that point shattered completely when he rolled his chair forwards. Closer to you now, you looked down into his soft eyes and watched how his normally objective stare went personal; emotional. He looked at you with the kind of admiration that made your heart flutter with pride.

He took his hand, placed it on your knee, and spread your legs further. His touch was so light, so soft that you could help feeling electricity dance along your spine.

"I thought you said you wouldn't touch me?" you whispered, only a hint of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

Choosing his words as carefully as ever, he explained, "That was before I decided that you needed some of my...guidance."

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 years ago

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AITA for assuming my friend’s boyfriend’s experiences with racism?

This sounds really awful but let me explain.

My friend and I (both 21F) study political science. About two years ago (we weren’t really friends back then) she got together with her boyfriend and they’ve been living together for some time as well. I never really liked him to begin with bc he has a very crude way of speaking and is just generally pretty overbearing. To be fair, I’ve never seen him and my friend arguing in any way and they are really sweet and considerate of each other so I don’t think he’s a bad person, just a little crass. We’ve never really seen eye to eye though so every time we meet we start arguing but it’s always been harmless and only half serious.

Now. The other day my friend and I met to discuss a project we’re working on and her boyfriend was there as well. We had dinner together and somehow the conversation turned towards experiences with racism in America.

For context: I’m black and my friend’s boyfriend is Chinese, I believe he came to the US when he was 16, so about 8 years ago. I don’t know much about his life before that but my friend has hinted that he had a really terrible childhood for various reasons.

Anyway, the discussion turned more and more heated and he said something I didn’t really agree with (I can’t remember what exactly but it was about racial discrimination in healthcare) and I said to him “I can’t believe you of all people would say that” (which I really didn’t think to be THAT crazy of a statement at the time). He completely went off on me, telling me to “shut my bitch ass mouth” with my western saviour complex and going on a tangent about how I knew nothing about his life and how he’d be a thousand times happier in the US than in Shanghai and how I’d be torn to shreds in China, especially the Chinese social networks. He seemed really upset to the point where he almost started crying.

After he was done yelling at me, he stormed out of the room and I left after apologizing to me friend who hadn’t said anything the entire time (which I don’t blame her for, she’s Norwegian and white and wouldn’t really be able to contribute something).

So I’ve been feeling awful this entire time bc I feel like I triggered him really badly or something but it was completely unintentional! My friend has been treating me like always and she told me not to worry but I don’t think I can stop that easily. I’m definitely going to apologize to him the next time I see him, even though idk if I should. So yeah was that really as bad as he made it seem to be? I’ll let you all be the judge of that.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ladybugbirdie42 · 6 months ago

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First Mission Part 2 Random Thoughts

I was finally able to read through part 2 of First Mission, so here are my thoughts.

This isn't really meant to be a detailed summary of everything that happens or anything. It's just me talking about whatever I thought was interesting.

Usual disclaimer: I read this with Google translate bc my Japanese is not very good, so take everything with a grain of salt.

It starts with Julius explaining the background of Reiner (the leader of the criminal organization they're infiltrating).

Reiner was a mercenary who was able to join the knights with the help of a noble, but he wasn't able to adjust to being a knight. During an escort mission, he ended up killing one of the servants of the noble who helped him. Thanks to the noble, Reiner was able to avoid being put to death, but he was expelled from the knights.

"The Count was probably hoping that this would change his mind, but considering what he's doing now, it seems that his feelings have been trampled upon." It is unclear how Reiner got to his current position after leaving the Knights, but it has only been a few years since his expulsion. It is hard to imagine that he was grateful to Count Oron for his kindness and tried to rebuild his life. His heart aches when he thinks of the Count, who lost his servant but still believed in Reiner's change of heart. Julius was feeling helpless, but-- "--? What's with that strange look on your face, Adelheid?" Suddenly, he became curious about the person he was talking to about Reiner - Adelheid, a girl who had infiltrated the same organization as Julius. Adelheid, who had been silent up to this point, leaning her back against the dirty wall of the alley, shook her head and said "No" to Julius's question. "I'm sorry. But I was surprised at how much you know. The Boss... You know so much about Reiner Wahrheit." "It's an infiltration mission. It's only natural that you should know this much." Although Julius already knew information about Reiner before he was told, he didn't think that everyone should know information about the exiled knight in advance. Still, he thought that they should be given the bare minimum of information prior to an infiltration mission, but Adelheid's lost look denied that preconception.

Julius over here getting heart broken over the random count from the big bad's backstory. I assume that's what Adelheid was reacting to before she changed the subject to how much Julius knows about the boss, but idk I could be wrong.

They also talk about how it's suspected that there's a traitor amongst the knights who is giving Reiner info. As you might expect, Julius is very upset at the idea.

Adelheid does bring up Heinkel as a possibility, which is around the time Julius finally realizes that she has the features of the Astrea family (red hair and blue eyes) and is like "oh, she must be from a branch family or something" lol

Julius admits that he's heard negative rumors about Heinkel and also that he doesn't think Heinkel is really doing his job. He does add that he doesn't want to let that cloud his judgment though.

In the next section Julius meets up with Bikram (the knight who's in charge of the mission) and Helaine (who is also involved in the mission but isn't with the Knights; apparently she works under Russell Fellow) to discuss the mission.

This section confirms that Adelheid wasn't sent by the knights. Presumably Helaine's group sent her, but I'm not sure if that's confirmed.

Also Bikram describes Julius as scary more than once, and I think it's funny.

Known as the "Silver Knight", Bikram was the oldest active member of the Knights, and his execution skills were the real deal, with Julius knowing of his many successful exploits that contributed greatly to the kingdom. To think that he would actually be able to witness this as a subordinate. "What should I do? Whatever orders you give me, I will carry them out on your behalf." "Your passion seems more frightening than reliable... Oh well. I'll take advantage of your enthusiasm this time."

"You can't be a knight all the time... but Lord Bikram, you're filling your vessel with milk right now. That's proof that you're always trying to be a knight." "I just like milk." "No, I know that the Silver Knight is a heavy drinker!" "You've always been scary!" Julius put his hands on the table and approached Bikram, who gave him an unpleasant assessment. Anyway, Bikram scratched his short hair and said, "As I said before, Wahrheit has been moving from one affiliation to another, so he has a lot of connections. If it's difficult to pinpoint a traitor based on their friendships, we have no choice but to look to their personalities and reputations to some extent. In that sense, there are a few people I'm keeping an eye on." "Is Heinkel Astrea one of them?" "You easily said the taboo words of the Knights..."

Bikram told Julius that no one can be a knight all the time, and I don't think Julius liked that very much lol.

Also Julius just straight up asking if Bikram thinks Heinkel's the traitor.

In the next section Julius is back doing his infiltration mission as "Julius".

The knights led by Marcos had raided one of the gambling places the organization runs.

Julius fought against Marcos during the raid, so afterwards some of the members of the organization were hyping Julius up, but he refused to accept their praise, insisting that he lost. He knows that "Julius" wouldn't be that humble, but he can't help himself.

Even the random members of this crime group are telling Julius he should be more confident in himself lol.

Adelheid also brings up Julius's fight with Marcos later when they meet up again. She asks if Marcos went easy on him, and Julius was like "yeah, otherwise I'd be dead".

Adelheid tells him he doesn't need to belittle himself that much, though she does add that it's true he's no match for Marcos.

Later in their conversation Julius brings up that it seems Adelheid has managed to gain quite a bit of trust from Reiner. She said that she didn't want to lose to Julius and the others, so she decided to come up with a way to earn his trust.

"Yeah, I tried to drink 'Hexel' in front of him." "Huh?" Adelheid spoke so calmly and casually that it was hard to understand right away. Julius blinked his yellow eyes and looked at her intently, wondering if he had heard something wrong. Adelheid tilted her head at his gaze, "That's why I used the Hexel in front of him. So now, to him, I'm just a drug addict who's cooperating with the organization for the drugs." "Is it really alright to do something like that!?" Adelheid's calm attitude made Julius deeply regret his own thoughtlessness. He had realized that Adelheid was in a difficult position due to the suspicions cast on Heinkel. It was Julius' negligence to have not even considered the possibility that she might become so overwhelmed that she might act like this.

"It's not a question of whether it's okay or not. Adelheid, you need to leave here right now. We'll take care of the rest..." "C-calm down, Julius. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, I'm fine." "No, no matter how much you insist that you're fine, mentality alone won't fix it." "It's not mentality. It's a blessing. I've been granted the 'Blessing of Detoxification'." Adelheid hurriedly answered Julius, who instinctively grabbed both of her shoulders and tried to persuade her seriously. Hearing the word 'blessing', Julius blinked again. As Julius digested what she meant, Adelheid continued, "It's a blessing." "Thanks to the 'Blessing of Detoxification', I don't get sick or put my life in danger from external factors. Not just from 'Hexel', but from any poison or alcohol." "'Blessing of Detoxification'...I see, that's why you were chosen for the infiltration mission. I understand." "Not really...but that's fine. Is it okay now?" "...Sorry." Julius said with a bitter smile, releasing Adelheid whose shoulders he was still holding. At the same time, he also regained the tone of voice that he had almost forgotten as 'Julius'. His apology just now was not only for grabbing her shoulders, but also for his attitude, which was tantamount to declaring Adelheid a reckless and thoughtless person. However, Adelheid laughed softly at Julius' apology and said, "I'm not angry. It's refreshing to have someone worry about you, and it makes me happy."

Adelheid being happy about someone being worried about her :(

I'm not 100% on the translation of Julius's response (which is why I didn't include it), but I think basically he finds it strange that she's happy about people worrying about her and that for him he usually feels sorry when he makes people worried.

And then Adelheid I think agrees that his reaction is probably the normal reaction and that her sensibilities aren't reliable in situations like these (again, not completely sure, but this is my guess).

In the last section of this part, Julius is working with Belmont (who presumably is also infiltrating?). It ends on a cliffhanger with them being surrounded by members of the organization. Julius assumes that it's because they've realized who Julius actually is, but they're actually attacking them because of Belmont, who they know used to be part of Marcos's Brotherhood (definitely feel like you need to read Once Upon a Time in Lugunica before this story, which fortunately I have, but yeah).

Anyways, that's where this part ends off. Excited for the next part (which might be the last?).

Really enjoy all of the Julius and Adelheid stuff. Can't wait to see what happens there. Wonder if we'll actually get to see Reinhard meet Julius as Reinhard (and not Adelheid). I wonder how that would go because I feel like Reinhard is enjoying hanging out with Julius because Julius is treating him like a normal person, but that's just because Julius doesn't know Adelheid is Reinhard. I'm not really sure Julius (especially at this point) would be able to treat Reinhard the same as Adelheid. But well, they do mange to become friends, so I guess they more or less manage to figure it out in the end.

#julius juukulius #reinhard van astrea #re zero

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pottypup · 1 month ago

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Queer Historian getting on my high horse for my annual pride rant.

Lets talk about "Trans Women of Color at stonewall/Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Revaria gave us our rights"

note: this post was originally a reblog which is why it might read weird and reference other users "above"

1) The continued use of Trans Woman of Color as the saviors of the queer community is violence. The idea that trans women of color deserve your respect because they did this for you is abhorrent "trans women of color did stonewall and now we have all these rights they saved us!" is not the activism you think it is.

Jules Gill-Peterson's A Short History of Trans Misogyny is where i got this talking point for an updated Pride rant. "Confining the trans woman of color to the function of inspiring martyr means that the real women living under that symbolic pressure encounter harsh judgment whenever they stray from their prescribed role" (125) Go read her book, I have since begun refusing to engage in discussions of "trans women of color did xyz" with folks who have not read it.

2) This narrative of stonewall muddies what happened. The names Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera and Stonewall get thrown around together A LOT. And it makes sense in the same way that like, throwing the names Regan, Bush and Berlin Wall together would make sense but tell you NOTHING about the roles played by folks in historic contexts.

The way Marsha, and Sylvia are talked about makes it sound like they were driving forces of the stonewall riots THEY WERE NOT. Marsha showed up after hearing about the riots on the first night and Sylvia claims to have been there but others have disagreed. But it is my personal opinion that it does not matter if she was or was not that was not her biggest contribution to queer liberation.

If we put our thinking caps on we will realize, there was not a bar that was patronized entirely by trans women of color and trans women of color only. Really Seriously think about that, not because there were not enough but because that's not the way public spaces work, more over "trans women of color" was not yet a category of people to be lumped together with out care of what those words actually mean and when they gained that meaning. Not ony logically can we come to that conclusion, we know, again from Jules Gill-Peterson, that there was very little distinction between trans women and gay men, especially by trans women themselves. (to get the full of this argument read ASHOTM) A bar primarily patronized by queers of color ABSOLUTELY that's what stonewall was, but a bar full of trans women of color when you can only name two? No come on.

By hinging the legacy on two people who's connections to the riots are shaky at best we have erased folks who were there and actually were leaders.

A black Drag King and Butch Lesbian, Storme DeLarverie has, by eye witnesses, been credited with starting the stonewall Riots. But for some reason we have pedestaled trans women of color instead of black lesbians (its the trans misogyny) (also I don't think we should pedestool black lesbians either, don't turns black folks into the saviors of a movement particularly when you will continue to erase them from that movement)

3) No one seems able to articulate what Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera actually did aside from "activism" and "stonewall" Folks will talk them selves blue going on about the activism of Trans Women of Color and then NEVER talk about what they did. Do you wonder why that is? The answer unsurprisingly is, because it was sex work.

Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR) was an activist group started by Marsha P Johnson and Sylvia Rivera to protect trans kids and trans sex workers. Housing them, helping them get set up in life, giving them a family when they did not have one.

They also, as the kids say, "had a platform" that gave them clout to speak at events. Sylvia's most famous speech comes from the Fourth Annual Chistopher Street Liberation day rally (the fourth ""pride"" ) She shouts at a crowd that did not want to hear her "Y'all better quiet down" And then pelads with them to care about jailed queers, folks who "are actually doing something"

4) they did not care about "rights" it was about liberation I have seen folks say "trans women of color gave me the right to get married" which is an incredible exacerbation of my first point. But also just, not what the "movent" cared bout.

Rivera and Johnson cared about rights insofar as they wanted the right to live, the right to go about their lives un-harassed, the right to dress as they pleased and to be themselves. They worked to liberate themselves from the constrictions of power working against them.

The "movement" that was jump started by Stonewall called itself gay liberation, and was not fussed about marriage laws, it did not care that "we are just like you but-" In fact it said "we are NOT like you" This very quickly turned into sexual liberation, after all it followed on the heals of heterosexual sexual liberation. But it almost immediately threw out the folks that everyone claims was at the heart of it. Because as soon as there was a movement, there was no place for trans women activists of color because they were ALWAYS too radical for the "movement" that they get credited for starting. Are they the same movent? or do they have the same start? I don't know that it matters, but it's important to recognize that the trajectories went two different ways.

5) name another trans woman of color. Go on, they're so important to you name more than two. What gets me more than anything else in the world is that people go on and on and on about the importance of trans women of color and then can name, two whole trans women of color. There's a couple reasons for this.

First the group of people we are talking about were not seen as worth having their history preserved by anyone buy themselves for a long time. This means historians going to Archives (tm) did not have access to historic materials even if they would have cared about them.

Second it's because, of course, no one who says this actually cares about trans women of color beyond looking like they care about trans women of color. The mere fact that Miss Major Griffin Gracy who IS STILL ALIVE never makes the list is proof of that. Despite her continued trans gender activism she was not connected to stonewall when the lgbt community decided it was going to make "knowing stonewall happened means learning your history" and has since been forgotten about. Despite, again STILL BEING AN ACTIVIST. We can not pretend that the lgbt community does not require martyrdom of trans women of color when we think about why Miss Major has been forgotten but Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera have not.

6) Least importantly, Stonewall did not invent queer activism. Queer activism existed before 1969, the Mattachine Society is one example. It did not make the same gains as the queer liberation movement did which is why it is forgotten. It also prioritized a "we are just like you" message.

The real problem is not with the folks in this post. The problem is the way we teach history does not give folks historical literacy. But i'll save that for later.

**obligatory this is all about America, American activism is not the same as activism in other places, American queer history is not indicative of history of queer movements or activism in other places ect ect

#pj barks #queer history

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irrevocablecondition · 7 months ago

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robyn i’m begging please tell me you’ve watched arcane and that you’re a caitlyn/caitvi defender i am tired of fighting alone 💔💔

I AM I AM I AM !!! and i get the dislike okay, i get the whole cop/marginalised community thing but so many of the people that are against caitvi just WATCHED arcane and didn't understand it, yk? i know the "we need more complex female characters" crowd HATEEEE to see a complex female character coming (but of course, prefacing this by saying you can like/dislike whatever characters you want ! the same way cait/caitvi enjoyers should be able to without being called facists)

first of all, mirror of jinx. if you hate cait, hate jinx too. and i know it's different because of their classes but that's the POINT. that's the whole point, they're all just people and they both lose someone important to them and are subsequently manipulated. and look, cait's morals are dicey okay - that's what makes a good character, and i mean good in terms of interesting not as a pinnacle of moral righteousness - but she is fundamentally good.

i think the big thing with caitvi, is a lot of their conversations are non-verbal and we don't actually see them discuss any of it. would i have liked to have seen it? yes. do i get that it happens without seeing it? also yes, that's what the whole end scene is. "are you still in this fight, violet?" - we've only just begun, the war is over but we have a lot to talk about and so much untangle and i need to know if there's a chance for forgiveness because i know i've done awful things. "i'm the dirt under your nails, cupcake. nothing's gonna clean me out." - i know. i know we have a lot to talk about, i know there's awful things we have to clear up, but this is me reassuring you that i'm not going anywhere, and i'm still in this fight.

and then the prison scene?! cait is so blinded by hatred and we see that, we see a complete difference between s1 cait and s2 cait and that's the POINT!!!! i'm adding a photo below of a something that's been in my drafts for ages (unedited so not very coherent) but !!! it's the whole point 😖 that prison scene is a return to the cait we know, to actual cait who isn't being manipulated and finally understands that her grief is being monopolised (there were many signs throughout that she was against this and had been manipulated, but this is The Big Revelation scene) - AND SHE APOLOGISES HERE TOO! the slow reach out to the wound, letting vi take control, stopping to be honest about maddie? the entire interaction with jinx?? "hating you, i've hated myself" - againnnn, none of this excuses her actions but it shows she isn't the big villain everyone wants her to be.

and vi forgives her.

and we joke a lot about "one cupcake and she deflects" in the mongoose/oil slick scene (lmao) but it's so much more than that. it's so much more than just liking vi, because vi is the first person she meets that shows her she doesn't have to be like her family, that the world is bigger than being head of the house, and that people contain multitudes - of courseee that reconnection is going to cause a shift, because she never truly believed in it anyway, and the physical reminder that she has a Choice has just come back into her life

and i think the most important thing is actually explicitly said: "No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes."

she's aware. she's so aware of what she's done, she becomes aware of why she did it, and whilst that doesn't excuse any of it, she explicitly acknowledges that it doesn't !! and she opens up the door in that last scene for the conversations that need to be had.

so do i think she's perfect? no. do i think any of this excuses her actions? no. do i think she's a raging facist that contributes to poor wlw rep and anyone who likes the ship should be bashed over the head with a rock? also no.

i think she's a character that contains multitudes, is an incredible example of how the human spirit and morality is not built for war, we weren't meant for this weighing of lives, and i think her character arc is so important for class consciousness and social change - we need those at the top that are more empathetic to see our struggles, and we need them to unlearn their prejudices which are embedded into them by the very same systems that oppress us. which feels pertinent today with all the eat the rich discussions and people saying luigi isn't some hero, he's the rich we need to eat - class is so much more complicated than that.

so,,, yes ! caitvi defender and a cait defender because i understand that liking a character does not equate to liking all their actions, and that morality is never going to be as black and white as we were taught to believe in disney films. humans are messy, humans are complicated and will never be easily-categorisable into good or bad, and i think that love is not always perfect, but it persists anyway and that's rather lovely for caitvi.

i think it's incredible character design, incredible relationship design, and the show asks so many questions about morality and class divisions that aren't always easy to comprehend, and aren't always explicit. you have to dig for the details - the slightly shift in lighting, the dilating of a pupil, the slow reach out; it's all there, it just isn't obvious. and i'm rambling and looking too far into it now but we also only see vi through caitlyn's eyes a couple of times. we only get caitlyn's first-person pov a few times: shes's so closed off even to herself, it's going to be difficult to decipher her character and her morality when she isn't even allowing herself that dissection. and i think she doesn't allow that because she knows she'll dislike what she finds, she knows she is fundamentally against what she's doing, she just needed a reminder that life is bigger than her predetermined role (vi coming back - see here; one of the view cait povs we get is immediately after vi coming back, and them fooling ambessa) and she can infact make that choice.

so complex and so interesting.

ANYWAY! this has been a messrsrarchives ted talk, thank you for joining me here today and i leave you with my other rant about something i keep seeing on tiktok - unedited and messy oopsie.

#asks #forever and always a caitlyn/caitvi fan - i love me some complex characters #and i think fandom spaces as a whole need to get to grips with the fact fiction does not reflect your own personal morals #do i like certain characters that are actual villains? yes. does that make me one? no its fictional #free yourself from purity culture and find the beauty in grey characterisations i beggeth you

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drenix004 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Oc!

PROLOGUE

MASTERLIST | AO | PR | CH.1 | CH.2 | CH.3

English is not my mother tongue, so there may be spelling errors. An apology for that in advance :D

Belonging to a Kaiju-hunting family, and an influential one in Japan, was a privilege that only two percent of the population could have. Expectations for the descendants were extremely high.

Belonging to the Nakano clan meant facing unattainable expectations, a burden that only the heirs of that clan could bear. Sacrifice from an early age was a characteristic for which the clan was renowned.

Naomi Nakano was the head of the clan, an older woman who had contributed significantly to Kaiju research and hunting in her youth.

Now retired, she dedicated herself to training her descendants, with the goal of making them perfect hunters.

“You're late, you bastards.” Naomi looked sternly at the quadruplets who knelt in front of her. “Don’t defend them,” she interrupted the older sister of the quadruplets when she tried to speak. “They will train until dawn for this.”

The quadruplets uttered no complaints, standing still like statues, accustomed to their grandmother's harsh treatment.

“I called you because I have something important to announce,” Naomi continued. “One of you will marry the second heir of the Hoshina family.”

All the sisters looked at the clan matriarch in surprise; they expected anything but an engagement.

Hinata, the eldest of them all, tried to protest.

“Grandmother! They're still too young for that!”

“Silence!” Naomi’s shout made the quadruplets shudder. “The decision has been made, and there are no objections. It’s bad enough that these four are tarnishing the family legacy by being half-breeds.”

Hinata looked helplessly at her grandmother, disgusted by her mistreatment of her younger sisters. Naomi’s dislike of her four granddaughters for not being fully Japanese was enormous, and she always made sure they knew it.

Naomi left the room, leaving an awkward silence among the five sisters.

“I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her and….”

“Stop apologizing,” interrupted Lilia, the oldest of the quadruplets. “Who should do it is that woman. You will only cause grandmother to despise you too for defending us.” Lilia stood up. “And marriage is not so bad; at least one of us will be able to get out of this damned house.”

“It shouldn’t be like that,” Hinata said, her voice thick with frustration as she tried to move closer, but Lilia stopped her firmly.

“In our case, yes,” Lilia replied, motioning for her sisters to stand up. “If you really want to help us, become the next clan leader. Ignore our presence and the harsh treatment we receive. You fit the perfect grandmother mold.”

“I can’t do that. I can’t let her treat them like that,” Hinata insisted, her eyes full of determination. The quadruplets’ red eyes glowed slightly, reflecting their distress. “They’re not to blame for what Mom did.”

Lilia let out a sigh full of exasperation, looking at her with a mixture of pity and anger.

“Stop seeing that woman as a saint,” she said in a harsh voice. One by one, the sisters began to leave the room, leaving Lilia and Hinata alone. They didn’t want to be part of the same repeated discussion about their mother. “If you want to stay in your fantasy world where you see her as something beautiful, that’s your problem. But I’m not going to let you drag my sisters into that world.”

Hinata took a step back, hurt by her sister’s words. The silence between them was tense, charged with resentment and unspoken pain.

“My job is to protect them, and if I have to protect them from you as well…” Lilia paused, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. “I will no longer consider you my sister.”

The air in the room seemed to grow thicker, almost unbearable. Hinata felt as if the floor was crumbling beneath her feet. Her breathing quickened, and her heart was pounding wildly.

“Lilia, please…” she tried to say, but the words choked in her throat.

Lilia did not look at her; her eyes were fixed on the door. With a last sigh, she walked out of the room, leaving Hinata alone in a sea of conflicting emotions. The door closed with a soft click, but the sound echoed in Hinata’s ears like thunder, marking the end of their relationship as she knew it.

#soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro #kn8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro x oc #husband!soshiro #hoshina x reader #fem oc #husband hoshina #soshiro #hoshina #hoshina soshiro x wife! reader

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csuitebitches · 1 year ago

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By your prior response, it seems like you believe in 50/50. Generally speaking, not everyone is willing to be in a relationship where the man is providing 100% of the bills but I followed you because I thought that was your view. A feminine high value woman bring with a man who provides 100% of the bills. Not a girlfriend but a wife who depends on her husband however, she still has her own. Her husband gives her the option whether she wants to work or not, she lives a life of leisure and luxury. Has her own personal savings account etc. Idk I thought you had a different mindset when it came to finances in a relationship.

Firstly, I don’t keep my blog active for the follower count. I began CSB to keep a track of everything I’ve personally learned over the years. My content is also mostly about productivity and self growth. I very rarely discuss love and relationships on here and only if I ever feel like it. You may unfollow me if you feel that my content doesn’t resonate with you!

I don’t, in fact, believe in 50-50. My family allows me to believe the same as well. However, my background and birth circumstances are different. Even if a man decides to provide for me and I let him, I can leave at any point because my family would 100% step in and financially and legally support me at any time - not everyone has that privilege unfortunately. Most people’s lives and realities are not the same. I cannot advise my followers based on just my own background because that would be irresponsible of me.

I never said that a man should absolutely never provide for you. I said it’s difficult for most people to not have a dual income household in this economy. I’ve already mentioned that my partner himself doesn’t let me pick up the bill. I further said that you should be able to have enough money on you in case you need to leave for whatever reason and that the reality is, most of you guys are not going to find some billionaire lovesick man who’s going to hand you his Amex card on the third day of you guys meeting. And yes. You NEED to contribute to any relationship to make it work and finance isn’t the only way. Even if your man tells you to stay at home, you’re still going to be expected to contribute one way or the other. You cannot have it all.

There are enough crazy stories out there about financial abuse. There needs to be a certain amount of time + emotional intimacy + rationality involved in order for a man to provide for you. The reality is that today’s economy is not suited for everyone. Gone are the days where $100 could be stretched to every cent and you could live a decent life on it. If a man can give you the option to work, he can also switch up at any point and take back that option. Would you be ready for a switch like that? Would your past grades, work experience, etc still be relevant? What if you decide to leave him - are you in the position to?

You can do what you like in your personal life because it doesn’t concern me. But if you genuinely think that a man is going to happily and blindly start providing for you from the first date without any sort of expectation from you - I implore you to understand that real life and tumblr hypergamy don’t always intersect.

Half of your mindsets have been screwed by these so-called tumblr hypergamy blogs, with all honesty. It’s also partly bullshit and partly very culture dependent. Most eastern cultures are hypergamous BUT there is a strong family value system, there are strings attached, and a strong cultural influence, divorce is looked down upon, you’re expected to stay with your husband through all the bullshit, you’re expected to compromise at any point and a lot more for your husband; there are expectations from both the partners. I remember coming across a blog of a girl who was this “hypergamy queen” only for her to disclose she was in fact, broke, and start begging for tips from her tumblr followers. I don’t think half of you guys even understand the reality of being financially provided for.

#q/a #the reality of being provided for

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 years ago

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AITA for cooking non-kosher food on purpose so that my Jewish roommate can't eat any of it?

For reference we're all in our 20s, and all some level of neurodivergent.

So I live with a few other people, and for the most part it's been chill so far. The only real problem I've had is with one of my roommates, we'll call them C. C was very sheltered as a kid, and we helped him move in with us mostly so that we could help him get out of a bad situation. The trouble is that because of the aforementioned sheltering he has a very bad habit of stepping on people's toes. He's loud when other people are sleeping, he spent the better part of our first year living together trying to avoid paying for rent or utilities, and he tends to dominate a conversation whenever he joins by doing the typical "wait for you to finish so I can say what I care about" shtick.

Well, we've had a recurring problem with C being grabby about other people's food. When we first moved in together he was constantly taking other people's groceries and using them for himself without asking, and not just small stuff, but like using my noodles, my sauce, and my meat to make spaghetti or something of the like. We all buy groceries separately except for a few core things that we all use like milk, eggs, flour, etc, so he was basically taking this stuff for free.

None of us are wealthy, we're all working retail and food service jobs, so it's not like it was a small blow to be losing food like that.

Well we discussed that and he's stopped, thankfully, but now he tries to like...beg for scraps? If you cook ANYTHING or are even in the kitchen, he'll come around and ask if it's "just for you, or for everyone". Understandably, this gets very annoying. My thing is that if you want to eat food I've made, you should contribute. Either by helping pay for ingredients or doing the dishes, or something like that. Basically, if you want to eat, help out. C never wants to help out or contribute to ingredients. Plus, if you tell him no, he'll whine about it? Like if you say that he can't have some of whatever you're cooking he'll be like "That food smells so good, even though you won't let me have any."

On the other hand, I know that C doesn't have a lot of money, and I would never want anyone to go hungry. But he won't use the communal stuff to cook himself anything, he'll just complain about not having a lot of money. I've tried to yelp him get more hours at the job we share, but he's unwilling to work certain shifts so there's a limit on how much I can do.

Anyways, to get to the point, sometimes I make dishes specifically with pork or other non-kosher ingredients so that he won't be able to constantly ask for some. I would never intentionally let him eat anything non kosher, and label all the foods I make for everyone so that he can check the ingredients and see if it's something he can have. I just don't want to be a jerk I guess, because I know that the economy is god-awful and believe strongly in helping your fellow man.

So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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gratuiciel · 11 months ago

Text

@ttkinnie here's the one-shot that's ready for beta-ing!

and here are the warnings: major character death, cheating, suicide, mentions of sexual assault, alcohol use, smut, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, kisaki is his own warning

relationship: kisaki/takemichi

word count: about 5k words

summary: set a few years after the epilogue, during the final timeline. kisaki invites his two childhood friends for dinner. takemichi shows up alone.

i put it under a read more let's gooo

It had been a while since he'd cooked dinner for himself or someone else. In retrospect, Kisaki should have expected it would turn out poorly. Fortunately for his guests, he did fully expect that, although the smoke alarm ringing out in the middle of an important phone call was a bit of a surprise. In any case, he made the right choice having a spare dinner delivered to his apartment for tonight. He sets it on the table as if that had been his plan all along, windows wide open to get rid of the vague burning smell still lingering in the air.

The evening is warm but not suffocating, gentle winds suited for the end of spring. Kisaki takes some time to appreciate this, as he will likely forget to do so again for the next couple of months. Somehow, he has to be reminded that life can be good and beautiful despite it all and somehow, he can only remember that lesson when he thinks about his two best friends.

The doorbell rings. He closes the windows, fixes his shirt's collar and walks to the door. On the other side, a man in semi-formal dress. Alone.

"Hinata isn't with you?"

"Sorry, she won't be able to make it tonight. Too much work at the hospital these days," Takemichi scratches the back of his neck apologetically.

"That's too bad," Kisaki replies, acting like those words didn't cause a spike of adrenaline. "I hope she isn't overworking herself."

"Aren't you doing that as well?" His friend playfully scolds him, while setting his contribution to the dinner on top of the table.

Takemichi brought the alcohol, as always. Cheap beer, even though Kisaki has a whole cabinet of the world's best liquors on display, free for him to choose. But his friend simply never drinks expensive alcohol.

Kisaki pretends he doesn't know why. He drinks that cheap beer with him, straight from the can. It warms him just as well as any other spirit, and even the taste of it is something he's grown to appreciate. It is Takemichi's favorite brand, after all.

They catch up on everything, anecdotes from their respective works, movies they've seen recently, books they just started, and of course discussions about their mutual friends.

"Did you know Chifuyu, Baji and Kazutora are officially a throuple, now?"

"Is that what they call it?" Kisaki dubitatively pushes up his glasses, aware of the fact he sounds like a grumpy old man right now. He passes the blame on to his line of business, definitely less up-to-date with cultural shifts than the movie industry. "Most of my collaborators at work can barely fathom the concept of same-sex couples. Hearing that word might give them a heart attack."

"Wait, they don't know about Koko?"

"Inupi always dresses up and wears high heels during parties. Since he never says a word, I suppose they believe he's a very quiet and meek woman."

"Pfft!" Takemichi tries, and fails, to hold back a laugh. Tipsiness gives his face and ears a pinkish glow. It has been months since they last saw each other. Kisaki sometimes wonders if the feelings will fade away, eventually. If one day he'll look at this man laugh and his heart will keep quiet. It would seem today is not that day.

❦

Takemichi sits back against the couch with a sigh and cracks open another beer. Kisaki offers him a cigar, lights up the tip while his friend holds it between his fingers, in front of his lips.

In his mind, the same scene plays out with their roles reversed. Kisaki is the one smoking an expensive cigar. Takemichi holds the lighter. He is the one whose hands shake a little as he brings the flame close to his face.

The visions started early. Dream-like, fleeting thoughts, just on the edge of consciousness. It took him a little while to tame them, make them reveal their secrets.

Sometime in his teens, Kisaki reads a book about the War of Troy, a line about how the cause of the conflict was a woman, and in the back of his mind he can see a girl lying on the concrete, face covered in blood and bruises, legs wide open and more bruises between them. He asks himself Did I do this? but finds no answer as the image fades. He rationalizes. No, I'm not physically strong enough to hurt somebody like that. Then, almost as an afterthought: And besides, I wouldn't want to hurt anyone like that either, he tries to reassure himself.

Days later, as he watches a stupid crime show ― it's cold outside and Hanma crashed in his room for the night ― the answer invites itself into his thoughts while a coroner examines this episode's victim. No, I did not do this. I wouldn't leave my DNA behind as evidence. That's why I made other people do it instead. He accepts that answer, even though he knows for a fact he never did such a thing in his whole life. He is thirteen, and above all terribly afraid his best friends will hate him once they figure out the truth.

Over the years, more visions came to him, more vivid as he learned to recognize their presence, hold them in place and ask them the right questions. While Toman collected victories over rival gangs, while his friends began to grow up and work towards their respective goals, he could see these twisted versions of them, destroying themselves and the ones they loved. They all seemed to curse his name. Takemichi cursed it the loudest.

Sitting next to him, Kisaki watches as he takes a drag and exhales the blue-grey smoke, staring at the ceiling. Taking advantage of this moment of inattention, he swiftly takes the cigar from his hand and fills his lungs with the same poison. Looking falsely offended by the theft, Takemichi tries to get it back, without success.

"Careful, or you're gonna burn the couch." Scolding him, Takemichi dives in an attempt to reach for it, and Kisaki lets him. He falls onto his back, Takemichi falls on top of him. Too easy. Hanma was the one who came up with that trick, and it never failed him. Or so he says.

Takemichi looks at him with an expression that is less one of surprise and more I knew you'd do that. Fondly. He then takes the cigar from his hand, flicks it over the ashtray on the table behind Kisaki's head, before sitting back and taking another drag from it. All the while straddling his waist. His hand resting upon Kisaki's heart. Kisaki may be able to control his expression, but not the way his pulse dances under his fingers.

They shouldn't be doing this. Obviously. Takemichi doesn't want to hurt his wife. Still. He puts away the cigar and bows forward, like an apology. With his hands over Kisaki's chest, he buries his face onto the couch, just above Kisaki's shoulder. A moment passes.

"I told Hina about us," Takemichi finally confesses. "That's why she didn't come today."

"I see."

"Sorry..."

"For what?"

"I made her cry."

Kisaki remembers, then. The words he had said on their wedding day. If you ever make her cry, I'll never forgive you. Half in jest, mostly a stupid attempt to soothe his own broken heart and act like he'd accepted his defeat. Thus ended their decades-long rivalry.

Lying under him still, Kisaki raises an arm and slides his hand over his back.

"I'm not the one you're supposed to apologize to. Besides, I'm just as guilty as you are."

A sigh is all the reply he gets.

"Are you going to cry?"

"I don't really cry anymore these days..."

"Then I encourage you to think of what Draken and Emma will do to you when Hinata tells them what you've done. And they won't be the only ones."

"Ha ha..." A weak laugh reaches his ear. "I'm so boned."

Kisaki moves his hand to the back of Takemichi's hair, running his fingers through the short, curly locks.

"Not necessarily. Isn't there still a way for you to go back in time?"

A cruel question to ask, but his friend cannot resent him for being curious. Still, his body tenses upon hearing the words. The next moment, Takemichi shakes his head. The answer is no. Kisaki feels like it might be a lie. He wraps both arms around his friend. Every comforting gesture, he learned from him.

Kisaki figured out the truth about the time leaps on his own. The memories of things he'd never done were evidence enough, although he could not entirely rule out some delusion of the mind. Takemichi's knowledge about people he shouldn't know and events that had yet to come were tangible proof that something was afoot. So he confronted him about it one day, in their late teens. Takemichi didn't deny it.

❦

In the autumn of 2017, Kisaki invites Takemichi over for a drink. Coincidentally, a new series of visions had been haunting his thoughts at around the same time. Memories from a past life, he knows what to call them by now. Takemichi sets a few cans of cheap beer on his table while Kisaki watches himself-from-another-time spike his glass with soporifics.

He does not ask how the newlywed life goes. He cares very little for how their mutual friends are doing right now. There's only one question on his mind.

"Why did you save me?"

Takemichi seems slightly surprised, which is rare enough. He doesn't reply, though.

"Was that out of pity?" Kisaki insists, feeling something like panic bubble up within. "Did you find me so pathetic you just had to intervene?"

He'd seen right through him, hadn't he? Even after Kisaki pointed a gun in his face, shot him, drugged him, made him kill. Every display of wealth and power, a disguise. His emptiness so richly adorned, no one dared to question him or why he did the things he did. Least of all himself.

Does Takemichi know how it ends for Kisaki each time? With a gun to his temple and a smile on his face. None of that really mattered, did it? He can't even bring himself to look guilty for everything he's done. His contrition is for one man only. That man is gone, now. He was a real hero, it turns out, super powers included. So none of that really mattered. Takemichi will fix everything and then come back to kill him. Another time, maybe.

But it never happened. Instead, his hero came back, took his hand and never let go.

Why in the world would he do that?

Kisaki feels two arms wrap themselves around him. Like breaking a spell, it snaps him out of his thoughts, back into the present, and the tears falling from his eyes make the world around a blurry mess. Was he crying, just now?

"A long time ago, I used to be terribly alone," Takemichi replies, his voice low. "I just kept everything to myself and lashed out however I could, mostly against people who had nothing to do with my own self-inflicted misery. Pathetic, right?"

Kisaki doesn't answer.

"And then I died. The end. Except I somehow survived and got another chance at life. So I decided I'd try to do something worthwhile for once in my worthless existence, and save the life of someone who didn't deserve to die. That's how it all started..."

Kisaki cuts him off.

"I deserved to die, didn't I?" Unlike Hinata. Unlike Draken unlike Baji unlike Kazutora unlike Taiju unlike Emma unlike Izana unlike Atsushi unlike Chifuyu unlike Mikey. Unlike Takemichi.

"Maybe. But I needed you alive." Kisaki shivers as his friend softly nuzzles the side of his neck, holding him tighter. "I saved you because I wanted to understand. I saved you because I thought we might be the same, deep down." A short pause. "And you know what? I don't regret it. I love you."

Vertigo. Kisaki has to hold on to him or else he'll surely fall. Pressed against his chest, Takemichi's heartbeat is just as fast as his own, both drumming furiously as if begging to be let out.

"What..." Kisaki's mouth is dry. "What kind of love are you talking about?"

"I don't know. We've been through so much."

"And Hinata?"

"I love her too. In a much simpler way."

"That's why you married her?"

"Yeah. Two guys can't get married in this country anyhow."

"Give me ten years and I'll change the law."

"Ha ha."

"I'm not joking."

"Yeah, I know."

Holding the sun in his arms would be less overwhelming. Kisaki has killed men with his own hands. They shake harder now than they ever did before.

"You realize... that there's no way I'm going to let you go back home tonight, right?"

"Of course," Takemichi replies. Of course.

Thus started their affair. Takemichi didn't want to lie to Hinata, but Kisaki didn't want her to know the truth. They both knew how important faithfulness was to her. In the end, he managed to convince Takemichi not to tell her anything.

They saw each other every now and then. Both well aware of their transgression, yet unable to put an end to it. So they compromised, swore not to cross certain lines. Barely took off their clothes, never kissed each other's lips. Hands only. This paradoxical distance, these self-imposed rules they somehow never broke, only made their desire stronger. Takemichi kept coming back for more. Kisaki was happy to oblige.

Within these walls, Takemichi belonged to him and him only. And since they couldn't reveal their bodies, they bared their heart instead. They would sometimes talk for hours on the pillow or silently hold each other through the night. Maybe that was an even worse transgression.

❦

Takemichi is lying next to him on the couch, half-asleep in his arms. Resting upon the ashtray, the cigar has almost completely burned out.

"Are you going to stay overnight?"

"I've got nowhere else to go."

"Liar."

"I want to stay here."

Much better. Kisaki enjoys the little spark of pride knowing that between all his closest friends, Takemichi still chooses to spend this time with him.

"What do you want to do?"

"Everything." Takemichi replies.

"What does that even mean?" He chuckles.

"I don't know."

Kisaki disentangles himself from his lover and sits up, smoking what is left of the cigar before crushing it inside the tray.

"Let's find out, then."

❦

The bedroom is as wide as the rest of his apartment, with a large, comfortable bed at the center of it. Takemichi follows him inside and, as soon as Kisaki closes the door, hugs him from behind, breathing him in.

"I missed you so much." Takemichi whispers in his ear. God, he'd missed this, too.

It couldn't be helped. What kept them apart had been a shock to them both, leading them to take the same decision without even needing to consult each other. It was best to end this. Things were messed up enough as it is.

And yet, here they are again.

Kisaki lets his lover's hands distract him from any other thought, tilting his head to the side to receive his kisses.

"Takemitchy," he calls out, almost an order. Does he ever think about that time he was under his command? Takemichi stops.

Kisaki turns around, grabbing his wrists. He looks up. Tired blue eyes look back at him, waiting.

"Can I kiss you now?" Kisaki asks.

"Please."

The fact that they do not accidentally headbutt each other in their precipitation is a small miracle. Reflexes somehow still sharp from their delinquent days, they both pull back at the same time when they notice the other approaching a little too fast. Then Takemichi snorts and starts laughing, and Kisaki leaves impatient kisses on his cheek and next to his mouth until he has caught his breath again. After that, they get to kiss properly. At last.

With shallow breaths, hands over his shoulders, Takemichi guides him towards the bed before gently pushing him over. Kisaki lies back onto the soft mattress, panting. While his lover stands before him, observing, Kisaki holds his gaze, taking a more inviting pose. Opening his legs, he reaches for his jacket's buttons and begins undoing them.

"Are you going to keep staring or do you plan on joining me at some point?" He teases.

"Not sure," Takemichi replies, machinally unfastening his tie, eyes still fixated on Kisaki. "Both sound good."

He still looks torn between the two options as Kisaki is done taking off his shirt, and sits up to begin removing his trousers. Then, lying back against the pillows, he raises his legs towards Takemichi.

"Take them off," he orders, and both his trousers and socks are pulled off of him in an instant.

All that is left are his boxers, now. Takemichi finally looks ready to intervene, kneeling right in front of him on the bed, but Kisaki holds him off, pushing him with one foot against his chest.

"I'll take care of that."

In truth, he wants nothing more than to have them ripped from him in an instant, but knows better than to ruin a good show. Still holding his lover at a distance with one leg, he begins to stroke himself through the fabric, relishing both his own touch and the look on Takemichi's face. Moving his legs to give him a better view, he slowly uncovers the tip of his cock, running his fingertips over it.

"Please..." Takemichi begs, desperate to join him. And Kisaki, who just loves to hear him plead, moans as his cock twitches under his own touch, so close already.

"Not yet," he breathes out. With his left hand, he blindly reaches for the drawer on his nightstand and pulls it open. "Give me the lube."

Takemichi passes him the small bottle. Kisaki decides to get rid of his boxers already, throwing them across the room.

"Take off your clothes, too."

"Let me touch you..." Takemichi protests, watching him coat his fingers with lube and spread it where he needs it.

The cool sensation makes Kisaki whimper, and he has to take a few deep breaths before risking another move. He opens his eyes and notices Takemichi undressing next to him. Maybe a little too fast. That man works in the film industry yet clearly lacks showmanship. He's more interested in what Kisaki is doing at the moment, glancing back at him after he discards each new item of clothing onto the floor.

"Can I touch you, now?" He sits next to him, kneeling, with his hands over his lap. Behind his arms, Kisaki can see his cock stand fully erect.

Sliding his free hand over Takemichi's lap, Kisaki runs his fingertip across the length of it.

"Don't forget to put on a condom first," he teases.

Takemichi is by all accounts a patient man, but he still tears open that packet like his life depends on it.

"Good." Kisaki wishes he could reach high enough to pat his head. "Now come over here and fuck me."

❦

It is still nighttime when Kisaki wakes up, his room lit up dimly by the city lights through the half-open curtains. Feeling parched, he reaches for the glass of water Takemichi left on the nightstand, and drinks it all up. When he slides back under the cover, he notices his partner facing away from him. Kisaki can hear him hyperventilate.

"Takemitchy?"

He calls his name to let him know he's there before placing his hands over his shoulders and massaging them lightly. Takemichi leans back into the touch.

"Sorry, I must've woken you up..." He apologizes with a strained, shaky voice. As if his state was not a good enough reason to wake somebody up.

"I don't mind."

Takemichi doesn't say anything more for a few minutes. His breathing settles into a regular rhythm while Kisaki continues to massage his shoulders, sometimes laying a kiss onto the nape of his neck.

"Hey... Can I say something terrible?"

"Anything."

"If it weren't for you and Hina, I'd have died a while ago. Maybe right after Mikey."

"Hmm." Kisaki had already sort of figured that out.

"I should've returned right away. Should've found a new trigger and saved Mikey before he did it. That was the only thing to do, wasn't it?"

"That power of yours only works if two people have the same desire to change the past, doesn't it?"

"Everybody wants to change what happened that day."

"Why not do it, then?"

"The truth is, I already tried. With Draken and with Chifuyu. It didn't work with either." He turns to lie on his back, eyes wide open. "That means I'm the problem."

"Not necessarily." Kisaki also turns to stare at the ceiling, but reaches for his lover's hand under the cover. Something to keep him grounded. "Chifuyu's living his best polyamorous life, and Draken has a wife and children he would be reluctant to leave behind."

"They'd still do it for Mikey."

"And you wouldn't? Please."

"No, I would. I would, but... When I heard the news, it felt like something just snapped in me. I don't think I lost my power. But... Even if I used it again... Is there even a point? We made it so that everyone would be happy. We saved as many people as we could, we prevented all kinds of horrible stuff from happening. This was supposed to be the best possible timeline. And Mikey still killed himself."

Maybe that was the problem. Takemichi no longer thinks he's capable of saving Mikey.

"People can live in castles, surrounded by everything they could ever ask for, and still shoot themselves in the face. Mikey had plenty of reasons to be happy, too. But maybe there was something else in him that made it all seem worthless."

"Why didn't he reach out if it was so unbearable? I mean... It's not like I wouldn't understand..."

The usual Takemichi would definitely be crying by now. Instead, there is a sort of distance between himself and everything he says. Maybe he got that from him, or from Mikey.

Kisaki holds his hand a little tighter, and turns so that he can drape his other arm over him, shifting closer to feel his warmth.

"Takemitchy. Whatever it is you want, I'll grant it for you."

Takemichi raises his arm to squeeze the hand on his shoulder.

"I want... I want to forget everything. To be carefree again. I want to love people without seeing them lying dead in front of me." His breathing grows erratic again as he speaks through tears he can no longer hold back. "I wanted to die, too, you know! There were times when I thought I couldn't do it anymore, and I'd cry for hours or say nothing all day and make Hina worry, but I still held on! So why couldn't you do the same?"

Kisaki doesn't reply. That question isn't destined to him, anyhow.

"And you know what? Even through the shitty times, it's been worth it, dammit! There's always gonna be another chance if you keep looking for it! But the moment you give up, things will never get better again! Why couldn't you see that, you idiot?!" Takemichi's voice goes shaky with grief, and he turns around to bury his face into Kisaki's chest. "Why couldn't you see how much you meant to everyone? How could you think we'd be fine without you?"

Before his suicide, Mikey had written a note. It simply said Don't look for me.

Kisaki doesn't know what pushed him to do it. Maybe the weight of everything he'd done was haunting him to the end. Maybe it was just a chemical imbalance in his brain. Maybe he simply got bored with life, or disgusted with the world of adults as a whole. Hard to say. People kill themselves for a variety of reasons. Some even do it to save another person.

Within his arms, his lover seems to have cried himself to sleep. At least Kisaki thinks so, until he hears him speak out, a tired whisper: "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"Hmm..." Kisaki tries to figure out what he could be alluding to. Telling him he wanted to die? Being mad at Mikey for taking his own life? He doesn't find either option that offending. He has felt that way, too. Saying he wishes he could love people without seeing them dead? Kisaki knows the feeling all too well. "I really don't mind," is what he replies.

He feels glad for everything he shares with Takemichi, although he won't say it out loud right now. This must mean he can be good, deep down. Either that, or Takemichi is capable of sinking to his level. Both are fine.

He holds on a little more tightly.

This life has been a gift. Takemichi has shown him kindness he never thought possible, taught him so much. Kisaki has made a place for himself in this crazy world, he's seen what he had set out to see.

They even became lovers. Surely he would be loath to part from such a life.

But Kisaki cannot ignore a call for help when it comes from his hero.

He asks, "are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"I could grant you your wish. You know the way, don't you?"

Takemichi doesn't answer. Maybe his mind isn't working that well at such a late ― or is it early? ― hour. Maybe Kisaki has to spell it out for him.

"If you gave me your power without acting as my trigger, I could return to a time in which you remember nothing about your past lives."

"Huh?"

"Since the first time leap can be triggered by death, it's most likely the case for subsequent ones as well. Even if I don't succeed the first time, I probably won't need another person to act as my trigger at all."

"Hang on... You're not..." Panic begins to gnaw at his voice.

"Don't you see it? This is the only way someone like me can still be a hero." His own voice comes out a tad unsteady, as well. "I'll shoulder everything. I'll keep everyone you love safe. You won't even know they were in danger."

"You... You're going to lose your mind!" Takemichi pulls away from him and gets up from their bed. He turns on the light and drapes himself in a bathrobe. "Nobody can face this alone. You're not strong enough for this. No one is."

"I won't be alone. I'll get stronger so I can beat those older kids in the park when we first meet. That way you'll definitely want to be my friend again. And I'll be able to protect you."

"I can't let you do that. I'm not letting you kill yourself." Takemichi walks up to the door, putting as much distance as he can between that idea and himself.

"Takemitchy..." Kisaki gets up and stumbles, body still aching from their earlier lovemaking. He holds on to the nightstand for support. His friend has come closer, ready to help but also hesitant to reach out. "You've always been scared of me, haven't you? I felt it from the start, but I didn't mind. I thought that if you saw how good I could be, eventually you'd stop being afraid." How quickly he'd fled from him, just now. After everything they've been through, everything they've shared. "So tell me," Kisaki lets go of the nightstand, his sore legs giving out from under him. "How much more is it going to take for you to trust me?"

Hands onto the floor, Kisaki hears the sound of footsteps approaching. Takemichi kneels before him.

They look into each other's eyes.

"If you die, Hina will never recover," his friend whispers. "What I said earlier... it doesn't warrant throwing your life away. Couldn't you wait a few more years?"

"Can you?"

Takemichi's eyes say it all.

Kisaki raises one hand to cup his lover's face, wiping away a tear from his cheek. He kisses his lips, as gently and lovingly as he possibly can. Perhaps in the same way one might try to reassure a cornered animal. He makes himself unthreatening. Don't run away. Please don't run away. I didn't even get to tell you how much you mean to me. Don't be afraid. All I want is for my life and yours to be so deeply woven together there's no telling them apart anymore. It doesn't matter in which shape or form. I'll take anything you can give me. If that scares you, I'll keep silent for both our sakes.

"Takemitchy, you know I can handle this. Let me be your savior."

Takemichi laughs, feebly. He runs one hand through Kisaki's hair.

"There's just no way you won't be cursed, taking away my power and then killing yourself."

"I know. You'll have to give it to me."

"I've spoiled you too much, haven't I?"

"Maybe." Kisaki buries his face into his old friend's shoulder. He may have wanted more, still. "I know you can't refuse anything to me. But you should know the opposite is true, as well."

There is a short pause, until Takemichi rests his head against him, too.

"Do you think there's a way to love people that'll make them never want to die again?"

"I'll tell you if I find it."

❦

Kisaki picks a green suit from his closet, the one he wore during a certain ceremony. His hand reached for it by chance, or perhaps there was something else influencing his choice. He feels ready to believe in fate.

Takemichi wordlessly gets dressed beside him, in clothes that entirely belong to his lover. He wears a black, striped suit. Strangely pragmatic of him. Kisaki fixes the collar of his shirt for him.

They kiss for a long time, before walking together towards the wide, open window. The sun is rising. Cool winds blow into their hair. It's a lovely day.

Takemichi takes his hand, and Kisaki feels a spark run throughout his body.

It all started with a fall, didn't it?

Kisaki holds him in his arms, then sways with him into the void. Once their bodies reach the ground, there will be no telling them apart anymore.

#stuff i wrote

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