#but that would still leave me without an essay on vulnerability management

[kaladinsspear]

ahhhhhhhh!!

I need to write a 4 page essay for class by tonight but my brain is full of cosmere rot and I can't seem to focus of cyber security to save my life. This is so frustrating! Just focus! I could be done with this by now if I could just do it!

[breezybeej]

Tears of the Kingdom review: Heavy Spoilers Ahead

I just typed out my thoughts to get them out of my head so here's the messy essay I wrote just pasted under the cut

Let's get this out of the way first. This review is going to sound extremely negative because literally everyone in the universe has covered the positives of this game already and you can go view those reviews to see that. And I'll give you the score up front so you at least know that I still 'had fun' while playing the game. Please dear god, before you leave a comment about why I kept playing if I hated the game so much, just don't. I still had fun with the game but it was a hard 6.5/10 for me. So let's talk about it. Also, spoilers ahead because I played the main story, several side stories, and a lot of exploration stuff. And these are all opinions so if you disagree with me, I don’t care. We can discuss it if you want and if you think the game is a 10/10, okay. Anyway

I'll start with the least controversial stuff. The stuff that makes the most sense toward lowering the score. The Game Play.

Every major dungeon gives you a fancy power just like Breath of the Wild but they way you activate them is different this time around. You have a little homunculus and power activation comes from talking to them. This was a terrible idea and I have no idea how it made it past testing.

Example Riju: She is a melee fighter. She loves to run right up to whatever enemy you are fighting and stay there. Great! She’s an aggressive fighter who provides decent passive damage over the course of battle. Problem: her power modifies your ranged attack. So when you are fighting the Queen Gibdo, you spend more time chasing this woman around the arena than you do fighting the boss. It becomes more frustrating when you realize the mushroom spires will cover themselves in armor periodically so if you don’t catch up to her, activate her power, and let it charge up to the appropriate range to hit the towers in time, well that sucks. Also, if she gets hit, it cancels her charge up and since you cannot control her, you cannot pull her out of harm’s way. Gotta chase her down and try again. Note that most of the control is in the hands of the AI and not the player. Queen Gibdo is a very simple fight. It’s very easy with basically no mechanics besides “break the boss’ armor to deal damage” so most of the difficulty came from managing your companion. This is not a compelling fight design.

Example Sidon: Once I finished the water dungeon, I disabled his spirit and never pulled it out again because he doesn’t do much. He was never around me when I needed him to activate the water wheels needed to progress the temple. I would solve the puzzle and turn around to activate his power and he would be wandering aimlessly around at the top of a ramp 20 yards away so I had to go retrieve him and hold his hand all the way to the door. His power is also pretty clumsy. Since you have to chase him down to use his power and you can’t talk to your companions while L-targeting, there’s a good chance you will activate it and take a sucker punch that immediately consumes the shield before you can fire the water wave. What’s funny is that you don’t even need him to fight the boss of the temple. I happened to have an opal wand which tosses water orbs out. Works better than the champion, too. And since the temple is low gravity, you can just… jump to activate bullet time and dump arrows into the boss the instant it is vulnerable. I didn’t have to interact with any boss mechanics here. So Sidon is a wash (lol).

Example Yunobo: He’s massive. He takes up so much visual space on screen when I do not want him to. Steering a vehicle? Well he’s in the middle of the screen now and making noise and drawing lines in the air and spinning and bro I am just floating down the river, I’m not trying to bring down siege fortifications. The good thing is that he can break rocks without wasting my bombs and hammers, the bad thing is he loves to just wander away while his power is recharging so I have to chase him down. Another problem? When you are aiming him, taking damage cancels it. Holding up your shield cancels it. So you are very vulnerable during this time. Yeah, it’s a trade-off but then we go back to the issue of this being more about managing your companion and his position than about participating in combat. Managing companions in battle is not fun.

Example Tulin: Free critical shots and a traversal power makes for EASILY the number 1 companion who will always be active. He lets me go fast. He saves durability and arrows. He defends me better than Sidon’s shield because he stuns enemies. But. But. He will run up into your face when you are picking up loot and you will activate his power and blow all your loot down a hole. It didn’t happen often but it happened enough that I developed a hatred for this little shit. I tolerated his presence for the gifts he provided but I found myself creeping up to items and slowly gathering them to make sure I didn’t trigger the bird. You know takes away the joy of looting after a battle? Having to slow down and MANAGE YOUR COMPANION.

Example Mineru: I didn’t use her. She will be useless by the time you unlock her unless you stumble upon the steps to get her before clearing any other dungeon. Zonai devices don’t scale up their damage as the game progresses so fitting her with a cannon does nothing. I had a cannon break before she was able to kill a moblin with it. She’s slow but you can put a fan on her to speed up. Also, the fan will break. Why? I don’t know. These things don’t break when you assemble them into devices off of Mineru. They just cost battery. Why would you make them more restricted on the mech companion? I’ll just use a custom made vehicle instead. Also, she’s bigger than Yunobo and for some ungodly reason, you have to press two different buttons in sequence to dismount her. I do not know why.

Okay, that was an overview with the problems I had with companions individually. Now the system as a whole: They are annoying to use. I spent a lot of time in the menu activating and deactivating them. Maybe I’m weird for this but I prefer to not pause games a lot while playing them because I enjoy the feeling of uninterrupted play. Breath of the Wild was fantastic for that. I only really paused to eat and to change clothes. The companions are so frustrating that I voluntarily interrupt my play to turn them off and then do it again to summon them later. I just did not vibe with the Primary Storyline Powers the game gives you. And since I said the magic word Storyline, let’s move on to writing.

The writing in the game is bad. You meet Tulin and his dad says “He thinks he can accomplish things by himself. He’s doesn’t appreciate teamwork.” Two minutes later, you give Tulin his bow back and he says “Dang, I can’t accomplish things by myself and I appreciate teamwork.” Like, he almost repeats the exact same line we were told two minutes ago. Sidon is too clingy about his people and afraid to talk to his fiancee about it. You do one single task for him and he says “Well it’s time to let my people work without me and also talk to my fiancee.” Yunobo has gotten his people addicted to heroin and then you knock sense into him within a minute of meeting him. Riju says “Damn I can’t aim my lightning. Hey shoot your bow” and that helps her aim, cool. Then the very next scene shows her using the lightning strike without your aid. So what am I getting at here? It felt cheap. None of the character growth felt earned, we just get told one thing and then told another right after. It’s not compelling.

I don’t want to say this would be better but they could at least make the character changes come AFTER the dungeons are cleared? Like Sidon gains confidence that he can leave the Zora to defend themselves when he sees that they handled the domain well in his absence. Or Tulin learns that teamwork is good after he works with Link to save Rito village. Is that crazy to think? I just fail to see the value in the champion storylines when they happen so quickly and resolve themselves.

In a similar vein, the memories in this game are kind of lame. They are all laser focused on explaining the past timeline and they are worse for it. In Breath of the Wild, some of the memories were about the plot and some were about characterization. There were slice of life memories that served the purpose of developing Zelda’s insecurities and not just telling us what happened in the past. In Tears of the Kingdom, that is not the case. Every memory is just raw exposition. Take the one where they consult Mineru. I’ll summarize it:

Rauru: Zelda, your power is unique and we have no idea how it works. Maybe Mineru can help us understand it. Mineru: Zelda we have no idea how your power works but there’s no way it can send you back home. The only way is to eat a rock and turn into a mindless dragon thereby losing your identity and kind of defeating the purpose of getting back home.

So just to set up the Dragon of Light plotline, we have a character dismiss all the time they could spend studying a new combination of magical powers and jump to an extreme case immediately. They also established this was the first time they talked about the subject. It feels so forced every step of the way.

And you know what? I liked that Zelda becomes a dragon. I like that she sacrificed her very sense of self, essentially committing suicide to ensure the survival of future Hyrule. That is a cool and powerful thing but it is set up poorly and they undo it with absolutely zero consequence. The writers straight up included a scene that explicitly says there were no consequences to losing her mind and identity as a dragon for a thousand years (or was it ten thousand? I already forgot). Regardless, Riju says “Wow you were flying around up here all that time?” and Zelda says “Yeah but I don’t remember any of that nonsense, it’s fine lol,” so it undercuts the entire cost of swallowing a secret stone. What was the point?

It’s like this for most of the main story progression. They set up a problem and resolve it with no consequence or even really any action on the part of the player. They even give you control during a sequence to catch the princess falling from the sky. You cannot fail it. The ground never gets closer. If you flub the button, nothing bad happens. The music is swelling and dramatic but there is no consequence to any of it. The dive started and when I realized that the princess wasn’t actually falling, I got up and refilled my drink, moved my laundry from the washer to dryer, ate some lunch, then caught the princess.

You say “Well the plot in Breath of the Wild wasn’t very good. It was barely there.” And that’s the problem. Breath of the Wild didn’t draw attention to the plot. That wasn’t the point of the game. So they kept it simple and they kept it in the background. They made the plot more central and more sweeping in this game and it hurt the experience.

But surely, since they lifted the combat and stuff from Bee Oh Tee Dubs it at least has that going for it, right…. Eh…? Late game enemies are damage sponges that aren’t really worth fighting. The mini-bosses all have the same mechanic (shoot the weak point then hit them. that’s it.) “But that’s true of Breath of the Wild!” Yeah, and having the same problem makes it worse here. Because they didn’t improve. Also, since the game revolves around supergluing things to sticks, you have to navigate the abysmal ‘quick item’ menu.

Since there is only one type of arrow, any modifier has to be selected from that menu every time you want that effect. That menu sucks ass. It is a single line of items and it doesn’t display the stats of the item when you hover over it. The pause menu is better but you can’t glue items to your arrows from the pause menu. It destroys the flow of battle when you spend so much time with time frozen on a menu scrolling to the item you want to use.

And boy it sure got annoying having to open the menu, drop an item, select the fuse power, and then activate the fuse power to set up your weapon. So for the above reasons: I just avoided combat unless I absolutely had to partake in it. Which leads us to bosses.

The bosses are boring. Most of them, I completely ignored the ‘mechanics’ of the fight. I already talked about how the low gravity trivialized the water boss. I accidentally killed the ice boss in 45 seconds. I mean, you only have to hit it six times. Gohma is just like fighting a Talus. Break the rock limbs, jump on top and hit the thing. I didn’t know the rocks it tossed would explode because I just… walked around them and hit the boss. Queen Gibdo might be the most intricate fight because she attacks from the ground, the sky, and has structures and gremlins. But it’s still couched in the problems of managing Riju.

And the worst boss of all is the final one. I died twice to him because I was trying to figure out how his patterns worked and his dodging and stuff. Then I realized I could just walk forward and swing my sword and win. Literally, that’s all I did for the first two phases. Then he starts perfect dodging all your attacks. So I had to swing once, wait until he dodged, then delay my walk forward just a little bit. That was it. Almost zero thought, no use of my fancy powers, nothing.

Then the final phase: Dragon Ganon. To be fair, Breath of the Wild’s Ganon was an immobile joke too but this one also sucks. He doesn’t aim at you with his attacks, he doesn’t retaliate when you land on him, he doesn’t try to eat you. You just land on him, swing sword, fall. Land on him, swing sword, fall. And then two more times. The final boss being a pushover could be fine if there was a good story supporting a narrative victory but the story is weak so it is just disappointing. Also, when you fight the phantom ganondorfs in the castle, there’s a dramatic moment where the four champions suddenly show up and save you. Then it happens again five minutes later when you go to face Ganondorf in the depths. THEN IT HAPPENS AGAIN TWO MINUTES LATER DURING GANONDORF’S SECOND PHASE. Three times in a row!! And they give it the same dramatic framing every time. And the reward for this is the aforementioned scene where you can just watch Zelda fall forever and then she shrugs off being a (ten?)thousand year old dragon because it would be too sad otherwise. I don’t know, man. There are just so many problems with the game that it blows my mind how I haven’t seen much discussion about them. Like I said, I had fun with the game. It’s fun gluing things together and that makes up for most of the tedium of the game. Yeah, I like flying around on a goblin glider. I like making flaming electric laser roombas that chase goblins. It’s fun. But I spent $70 on this game and I have spent as much time getting distracted and being frustrated by the mechanics and story of the game as I have enjoying it. And that’s without bringing up how shoddy the rewards in the game are but I’m at 2802 words and I just want to be done with this.

[buckyownsmylife]

Diving Bell - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy has been a patient librarian, but now that you’ve accepted his advances...

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, dubcon, (andy pushes the relationship into boundaries that weren’t previously consented), age gap, (reader is over eighteen and in college), semi-public sex, somewhat of an exhibitionism kink, oral (f), andy’s definitely dark but reader is generally into it, she just doesn’t know what “it” will be, dirty talk

Word count: 3k<

A/N:  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. Hope you guys like it!

Reader’s P.O.V.

My face burned and I wondered how I hadn’t spontaneously combusted from how hot I felt under the hot new librarian’s gaze. Sure, the girls had warned me about it - I’d hear so much about him, in fact, that I was sure I’d be disappointed when I actually did manage to meet him.

Boy, was I wrong.

He was the definition of daddy, luscious beard and hair just begging to be pulled and I could feel the burn his jaw would leave behind if he deposited kisses down my neck - or better yet, on the insides of my thighs - but he was at least twenty years older than me.

There was absolutely no way I’d ever catch his attention. Not when so many girls had tried to get in his pants - girls hotter than me - and had failed miserably, as I’d been told time and time again from the very same seductresses.

So I saw absolutely no point in trying. Although, one could very well admire, right? Also, fantasize couldn’t do any harm, not even to my extremely vulnerable pride. It’s not like I could control it, anyway.

But another thing I couldn’t control was his effect on me. The way my whole body warmed up when I felt his eyes on it, how I couldn’t immediately focus on his words whenever he addressed me.  I even stopped coming to the library to study because 1) I couldn’t concentrate with him around and 2) his presence had brought a whole new wave of first-time library users, and seeing as their interests weren’t on the actual books, they tended to be extremely loud.

Once essays started to get assigned though, there wasn’t much I could do. I had to get back to the library, and so I chose to go when it was already dark, hoping he wouldn’t pick up that shift, and knowing most frat girls would be at an impromptu Thursday-night party to celebrate (once again) the start of classes.

I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just throw a party for the sake of partying. Did they have to reuse the same excuse, over and over again? It’s not like anyone cared. I certainly didn’t, and the people who went for the free beer didn’t care about anything just as long as the alcohol kept flowing.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled me, almost making me drop the pile of books I’d been gathering. Even though there was no way I’d confuse him with someone else, I still looked over my shoulder to make sure it was really him, that he was actually there, staring at me with those caring warm brown eyes.

“S-should I be anywhere else?” I tried to sass, even if my own voice gave me away. He chuckled though, extending a hand to help me with the load in my arms, and although I hesitated for a second, I ended up accepting his help. It was his job, after all. This couldn’t really be considered flirting, right?

“I don’t know. I’ve heard about this party tonight, figured you’d be there.” Frowning, I finally turned to stare at him directly in the eyes, almost immediately regretting my decision. Damn, he looked good.

“How do you know about the party?” I asked, and his lips immediately curled up, trying to contain a smile from stretching over his face.

“Some girls may or may not have invited me to meet them there.” Clicking my tongue, I decided to look back at the bookshelf, instead of paying him any more attention.

“Why? Are you jealous?” The question felt too much like something a fuckboy my age might ask me at a party, not a forty-year-old man who worked a full-time job. When I turned to look at him again, eyebrows raised high, he chuckled.

“Sorry, that’s not usually my style… I’m just at a loss of ways to get you to notice me, that’s all.” Well, now I was beyond shocked.

“Why do you want me to notice you?” I asked, utterly confused, but Andy just laughed, shaking his head at me like he was profoundly amused by my ways.

“I always notice when you’re around. Even worse, I always notice when you aren’t.” And then, as he looked around like he wanted to make sure other people wouldn’t hear him, he leaned over me and confessed, “It gets pretty lonely here without you.”

The accompanying wink almost gave me a heart attack. Stuttering out something even though I didn’t know what to say, I moved away from the bookshelf in search of the nearest table, finding it thankfully empty.

When I turned around to look for him again, he was right by my side.

“I don’t get it,” I managed to admit once my arms were book-free. “We’ve talked like twice. You helped me find books, I acted like a fool. You weren’t supposed to flirt with me, why aren’t you interested in the college girls who actually hit on you?”

He raised his eyebrows before frowning, hands deep in his pockets as he stared down at me in all of his height. “Have you ever considered… that I just don’t want them?”

The insinuation stirred something deep inside of me, leaving me flushed and overall a mess. Stumbling out an apology, I gathered my stuff and left as quickly as possible, determined to process what had happened that evening by myself, so it could actually feel real and I could decide what to do from then on.

But something changed ever since that evening. I stopped trying to run away from him and started to actively go to the library in the times I knew he was there, at first still avoiding him and looking away every time he caught me staring, silently grateful that he didn’t try to force me to open up to him.

His patience was rewarded when in a few weeks, I began to talk to him again. Asking him for book recommendations, never anything other than what was strictly related to his job, but the way his eyes glinted knowingly at me warned me that he did understand where my mind was at.

It didn’t take long for him to start flirting with me, and from then on, I slowly accepted his advances and even began to eagerly wait for them.

I smiled widely when I heard his low whistle, admiring the way he looked in that comfortable sweater as he put away the books he was holding to fully give me all of his attention.

“Well, don’t you look incredible?” He asked as I twirled so he could fully see the dress I’d put on just for him. “Did you dress up for me, pretty girl? Because I like to think that you did.”

Biting my lower lip, I tried to gather the courage I’d been trying to build up all week, before finally nodding and admitting, “Yes, I did.” From the stupefied look on his face, it didn’t seem like he was expecting that. Even worse, I wasn’t expecting the outcome of my little attempt to flirt back.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” And that was all the warning I got before his hands cradled my face and he took my mouth in his, kissing me breathless, leaving me aching and soaked when he finally released me.

I was panting by the time he let go of my lips, and he smiled softly at me as he brushed over my cheekbones, saying, “You know… if you ever need anything… You know I’m always here to help.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” My own smile denounced just how much of her intentions I already knew, from how well I knew her. Her late-night visits to the library had become more and more frequent, and I couldn’t say that I hated it.

“I don’t know,” she feigned nonchalance, shrugging while perusing the bookshelves before looking back at me from over her shoulder. “The hot new librarian in charge of the night shift has told me he was always available to help me with anything I needed, and I’ve been needing a distraction.”

My chuckle was low, in order not to interrupt the few students still trying to finish whatever assignment they were working on, but she heard it. I watched as she shivered at the sound of my voice, prompting me to lick my lips at the powerful reaction I could so easily elicit from her.

“You didn’t use to be so blunt,” I teased, remembering how she used to come in here looking for me, only to run away at the last second. It was adorable. Ever since I started working at this university, it wasn’t unusual for college girls to come in groups and watch me from a distance, their giggles whenever I glanced at them unmistakable in the almost completely silent environment. Eventually, one or two would always break away from the group and try to flirt while their friends became a captive audience, but I was quick to shut them down.

They weren’t the one I wanted. She was standing in front of me now, pretending to be interested in a random book, biting her lower lip to keep a smile from spreading over her face. “Do you miss it?”

There was something undeniably attractive by her shyness back then, her inability to ask me for information or even sustain my gaze, but now that I knew what it was like to have her meet my eyes, now that I’d had the luxury of hearing her speak, of getting to know the intricacies of her mind, how could I miss what was, back then, a stranger?

“Not at all.” Her laughter, even subdued because of the place we were in, was enough to have my stomach doing backflips. I had to smile, instinctively getting closer to her, just like a moth, drawn to a flame. 

“I want to do dirty, dirty things to you,” I admitted, one hand on the back of her head as I pressed her against the bookshelf, my lips just over her ear as my beard undoubtedly tickled her neck. “Can’t very well protect my soul if I’m still thinking about you as an innocent little thing, now can I?”

Her eyes dropped down to my lips before meeting mine again, and just like that, I had all the authorization I needed to connect our lips and kiss her breathless. Humming in delight against her quiet neediness, her eagerness to open her lips, welcome my tongue with hers, I blindly moved us further towards the back of the library, relaxed in the knowledge that amongst taxidermia books no one would come to check on us.

Not that I cared all that much if they did.

“Hm… Want me, sweetheart?” I pressed, needing to hear her say it, taking sick pleasure in knowing this came from her, this was her own desire. She almost didn’t answer me, eyelids heavily pressing her eyes closed when our mouths parted, but in the absence of my touch on her, she jolted.

“Yeah, I do! I do, I do…” She insisted, pressing herself against me, feeling just how badly I wanted her too. It made her gasp, witnessing how hard she had made me - she didn’t know it yet, but it’d been this way ever since the first day.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I whispered, just to see the way goosebumps took over her flesh while I got rid of her underwear, moving us towards an empty table where I could lay her out to take.

“No, I don’t want you to stop,” she moaned when she saw me leaning over to kiss between her legs, eyes still connected to hers until she closed them to throw her head back, overtaken by the sensation of my warm tongue slipping between her folds. It was better that way, she wouldn’t see the dangerous smirk that denounced that she would come to regret her words before I was done with her.

She tasted just as sweet as I always imagined her to. So wet already, it was clear she was desperate for me. The cock straining against my pants reminded me I couldn’t be too cocky about it - I wanted her just as badly.

“C’mon, honey…” I teased, dipping my tongue in her hole as my thumb frantically rubbed her tiny clit. “Give me more, I want more.” I needed her to cum before I could shove my cock into her. It was important.

The sudden tension of her thighs denounced the arrival of her orgasm, and where usually I’d love nothing more than to keep licking her, delighting myself with her taste and overstimulating her sweet body until she was crying, there was only so much I could take tonight.

“There you go,” I complimented when she easily succumbed to my directions, having turned her around and laid her with her stomach on the table, legs dangling off of it. “Want to feel me now, pretty girl? Want me to fill you now?”

Her answer was a whine as her hips searched for mine. She was offering herself to me, the innocent little thing. Didn’t know I’d take her regardless of it.

I had the instinct of slapping my hand over her mouth as I penetrated her, and so her moan came out muffled. I could still understand a breathless, “so good…” being uttered against my palm, and it only made me bite down on my lip harder, so my own sounds wouldn’t reverberate across the silent library.

It was a twisted kind of pleasure to hold her arms back as I fucked her roughly but as silently as possible, trying not to make the table squeak so it wouldn’t draw attention to us. Even though I didn’t particularly care if someone did find us - I wouldn’t stop fucking her if God himself tried to intervene -  I’d prefer to reach my goal without unwanted interferances.

So I was glad she didn’t seem to mind the fact that anyone could easily look our way and see us fucking. Had I really tempted her that much, that she would let me do whatever I wanted to her body, just as long as I fucked her?

Guess I was about to find out.

“Do you know how many times I masturbated in the back room, thinking about this sweet pussy?” I asked, voice raspy with desire as I kept jackhammering her as quietly as possible, but probably failing to do so in the midst of my arousal. “To think I finally have it now, wrapped around my dick…” My voice faltered as I realized all of my dreams were about to come true, right at that moment.

“Can’t wait to fuck my cum back into you, sweetheart. I’m gonna keep you so full from now on.” I felt her body tense underneath my fingers as she processed my words, but it was too late for her now. My hand still over her mouth, I stopped her from screaming or fighting me in any way.

“Just relax, honey. Doesn’t it feel so good?” I mocked, fucking her harder and harder as my control slipped from me. “It feels good for me, too. So now you’ll have to take it.”

Reaching around for her clit, I started rubbing it in quick little motions, desperate to feel her cunt clenching around me once more, milking my cum.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Cum again for me. Let me keep making you feel good as you do the same for me.” Her orgasm had her legs raising between mine, right when I started to spill inside of her, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Once I was sure she wouldn’t scream, I took my hand away and pushed her back against the desk, massaging her ass eagerly, hoping it would take.

“You’ll look so good all round with my child.” Once I pulled my cock from her, I made sure to adjust her underwear so it would stop my cum from flowing, massaging the damp tissue with a smug expression.

She managed to turn around in my embrace, blinking confusedly, mouth opening and closing as if she couldn’t quite figure out what she wanted to say, and I cooed at her adorableness.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you and the little one.” I rubbed my hand over where she would soon grow, licking my lips at the mental image of her pregnant. God, why did that make me so hard?

“You can trust me,” I assured her, pulling her closer to I could kiss her forehead, before adjusting her body so it rested on mine. I knew there were tears rolling down her cheeks, but it was just from her coming down from the adrenaline high. She wanted this. She just needed to be able to think clearly to see just how perfect this would be. “We’ll be so happy together.”

[mothandpidgeon]

Extra Credit (Professor!Dave York AU)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Dave York x F Reader

Words: 2865

Rating: VERY E 18+!

Warnings: student/teacher quid pro quo (safe to say this falls under DUB CON so please be careful!!!), spanking, humiliation/degradation, oral sex, orgasm denial, spitting, pussy slapping, biting/marking, p in v sex, Dave York

Summary: With graduation on the horizon, you just have to pass Professor Dave York’s class. But a bad choice on the final assignment leaves your grades in jeopardy. But he’s willing to give you extra credit if you can follow instructions.

a/n: First off, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU MIND THE WARNINGS. I did not see myself sharing this kind of stuff but I guess I'm freaky like that.

Second, I’m sorry this has the plot of a bad p*rno but sometimes it be like that. Thanks @pascalslittlebrat, @starlightmornings and @mouthymandalorian for encouraging this. It is filth. And thank you P for the gorgeous moodboard!!!!

Also, here is my assignment for the class. What subject do you think Professor York teaches? I was thinking Political Science. Would love to hear your ideas.

It was hot in the lecture hall, one of those early spring days when the weather decided winter was officially over. You had only a few more weeks until graduation and you were white knuckling to the end.

It had been a tough semester. You had your classes to deal with and your motivation was dipping. It wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d had to take on a full time job on top of your studies. Your shitty little car always seemed to be in the shop and your roommate had turned into a psychopath so you slept with one eye open.

Professor York’s class was the hardest you’d ever taken. You liked his style, his dry sense of humor as he lectured. But he was difficult to please. Most professors let their TAs do their the grading but not him. No matter how hard you worked on your papers, you couldn’t wrestle anything higher than a B- from Professor York.

The TA was handing back your papers, the last assignment for the semester, and he placed yours face down in front of you. There was no grade on it just red pen that spelled out see me after class in tight, neat handwriting. Fuck.

You looked up to see Professor York glowering at you from his spot at the front of the hall. You approached him as the other students filed out. You wished you could share their relief that this class was finally done but you had a knot in your stomach.

“Have a seat,” he said, taking the paper from you and tapping it in his palm.

There was a chair next to the professor’s desk and you sat down putting your bag beside you.

“Thanks, Tyler,” he said, dismissing the TA.

When the lecture hall was empty, Professor York sat behind the desk, eyes skimming your paper.

“I wanted to talk to you about this,” he said.

You nodded, too nervous to try speaking.

“This is some great work. This is the kind of essay that really sticks with you after you read it,” he said. His brown eyes were warm and soft and he sat forward in his chair.

You were dumbfounded, your anxiety quickly washing away.

“That’s probably how I know I already read this,” he said, his features suddenly darkening.

Your stomach plummeted into your feet. You were such an ass, thinking you could get away with it.

“I don’t tolerate plagiarism,” he told you.

With everything that had been going on this semester, you didn’t have it in you to complete this final assignment. It wasn’t like you were going to get a good grade anyway. You’d been so exhausted, you hardly cared if you got caught when you’d handed it in. But now that you had to face Professor York, you were kicking yourself.

“I find it highly disrespectful that you would try and pass this off as your work. You know you can be expelled for this?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’ve just had so much work to do-“

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he snapped.

You shut your mouth and felt tears bite at your eyes.

“Are you going to cry?” he asked in disgust. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“Professor, if I fail this class I’m not going to graduate. Please. I’ll do anything to just pass,” you said.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” you said. The word sounded so definitive when it left your lips.

Professor York leaned back in his chair, swiping his finger across his lower lip in thought.

“I can give you extra credit but you have to do exactly what I tell you,” he said.

You were so relieved, you nodded breathlessly.

His lips curled into a smile.

“What color panties are you wearing?” He asked.

Your cheeks set on fire but heat also pooled between your legs. “I- what?” You managed.

“Show them to me,” he commanded.

Your whole body flushed and you stared at him, wide eyed. You had to be dreaming. You’d always found Professor York sexy with that grin and his deep voice but he wouldn’t- this wasn’t happening.

“Do you want extra credit or do you want me to give this paper to your advisor?” He asked, his tone suddenly harsh.

You swallowed hard. Why did his words send a shiver down your spine? You picked up the hem of your skirt and lifted it so Professor York could see between your legs. You looked away, blushing deeply.

He made a guttural noise that made you drop your skirt and clench your thighs together.

“Give them to me,” he said.

Your mouth hung open. He looked completely serious, blinking at you slowly as if this was a casual request. You bit down hard on your lip but finally you relented.

You squirmed out of your panties, being careful that you didn’t give him a show in the process, and placed them in his large, outstretched hand.

He put them to his nose, inhaled, and then squirreled them away in his back pocket, all the while watching you with amusement.

“Stand up. Put your hands on the desk,” he said.

You couldn’t move, sitting there with a gaping mouth. Finally he narrowed his eyes and you did as he said. You put your palms against the table top, aware of the vulnerable way you were leaned over. His eyes moved over your form and he wore the same self-satisfied expression that came when a student asked a stupid question.

Once he was finished admiring your obedience, he stood up and walked behind you. Your heart was pumping wildly as he stepped closer and you could smell his cologne, leather and tobacco.

“I‘ll pass you but I don’t want you thinking you’re getting off easy,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

He chuckled and your breath caught. You felt him lift your skirt up, the fabric skimming over your bare ass, and you gasped. He didn’t touch you but he made a noise of approval that shot through you.

“I’m going to hit you five times,” he said into your ear. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded without even knowing you were doing it. What the fuck was happening? You were standing in the empty lecture hall, bent over, ass out, and desperate to graduate. You couldn’t believe Professor York’s audacity and yet you were going to let him spank you like you were a little girl. It wasn’t like you had a choice, you told yourself.

Before you could make sense of it, his hand connected with you and you let out a grunt. Were you getting wet? You definitely should not be enjoying this.

He hit you again and this time a moan escaped from you. You clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Hands on the desk,” he commanded.

You put it back down and another strike came against you. The sound of his punishment seemed to be echoing off the walls of the empty room.

He pulled your hips into him to steady you as he went on. You loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you firm.

When he was finished, you were nearly shaking, your pulse quick and your lips parted. You were still reeling not least of all due to the fact that you wanted more.

“Good girl,” Professor York purred smoothing his hand over the spot he’d turned red. His fingers dipped between your legs to feel the slick on your lips. “You’re not going to learn your lesson if you’re enjoying this.”

He came up right behind you so he could wrap his hand around your front and stroke at you. You were thankful your palms were braced against the desk because your knees nearly gave out.

“Professor,” you tried.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked, a hand gripping your hair.

“What if someone comes in?” Your voice shook.

“Then you’ll have to tell them why you’re failing my class,” he said and continued to play his fingers between your legs.

You whimpered. You could feel his hard length through his pants pressed into the tender flesh of your ass. Your head spun. You knew how fucked up this was but you didn’t want it to end. Professor York’s fingers circled you expertly and you felt like you were melting in his hands. You forgot everything— the circumstances that lead you to this moment, that this was your teacher, that you were exposed in public. Nothing existed except for your pleasure building and building.

As the sensation mounted in you, you began to buck against his hand.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Good,” he replied and suddenly, his hand was gone.

You cried out in desperation. You clenched at nothing, left at the precipice with no relief. You were throbbing almost painfully. Professor York caught your chin in one of his hands, squeezing your face and wrenching your head around to look at him.

“Do you deserve to cum?” he asked.

You thought you might actually cry between your need for his touch and the fear his voice instilled in you.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No,” he confirmed.

He loosened his grip on you and, for the briefest moment that softness returned to his eyes. You looked at him, eyes glassy and practically drooling, wishing he would touch you again.

“Needy girl,” he chided. “On your knees.”

He pulled you to your feet by the back of your skirt and you got down, bare knees and shins on the tile floor. You gazed up at him, still a little nervous, still pulsing between your thighs.

Professor York undid a few of the buttons of your shirt and skimmed his knuckle across your breast with a hum.

“Maybe I should take this too. Matching set,” he said. He snapped your bra strap which made you jump. “Off.”

He palmed the bulge in his pants as he watched you remove your shirt and unhook your bra. He squeezed one of your tits and pinched your pebbled nipple until you flinched.

“You want to pass?” he asked you, repeating the motion on the other side.

You nodded and he arched an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you said.

“You want to please me?” Now his hand ran gently along your jawline.

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d been trying all this time, studying hard, staying up all night to perfect your papers. Now you had a new goal in mind though you were afraid it was just as unattainable.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed and when you did he spit into it. “Don’t swallow that.”

You stayed like that, with your mouth open as he released himself from his pants. There was a dark patch on his boxer briefs stained by precum. You watched him wildly as he pulled at himself and a glistening bead appeared at his tip. Saliva, yours or his, was dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, dripping on your hard nipples.

“Don’t you look pretty. I hope you can suck cock better than you write papers,” he mocked.

For some reason this was what made your eyes pop. You asked yourself if you were really going to suck off your professor for a good grade. As if you hadn’t just handed him your panties. As if you hadn’t just let him smack your ass. As if your thighs weren’t drenched with your own slick.

He approached you, still stroking himself and you were jealous. You wanted that friction on yourself, were dying for more.

You didn’t have to be told what to do. You wrapped your wet lips around his thick length and your tongue swirled around him.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded.

You looked up at him, and grasped his shaft in your hand as you sunk your mouth around him as far as you could go. Your saliva dripped down his cock pooling in your fist.

“Fuck,” he said.

That word excited you. You kept going, watching him try to keep his eyes open as you surrounded him. The noise of your lips on him was almost disgusting, wet and squelching, and yet it was driving you insane. You clenched your core for some kind of relief that wouldn’t come.

He thrust deeper into your mouth and you tried to take him in but gagged. You pulled away, his cock bouncing out of your mouth and you coughed.

“Good girl,” he said. “Look at you trying to earn that extra credit.”

Tears stung in your eyes as you tried to recover.

“You still want to cum?” he asked, one hand pumping himself slowly.

You nodded timidly. More than anything in the fucking world. But you didn’t want to seem too eager, aware that he was ready at any moment to rescind the offer.

“Sit on the desk,” he said and you did. “Greedy little brat.”

Professor York slid your skirt up your thighs and that sensation alone felt erotic. He inserted two fingers into your mouth and you sucked them hungrily while he grinned.

He slid them across your folds and you were already so sensitive your back arched. He surprised you by getting down on his knees, opening your legs and throwing your thighs over his shoulders. You leaned back on your hands, laid out across the desk, fully on display.

You heard a noise in the hallway and gasped, your head snapping towards the door. But your attention was immediately drawn back to Professor York when you felt him smack you between the legs.

“Do you want to cum or not?”

“Please,” you begged.

He gave you a dark smile and then began nipping at the inside of your thighs. When he got closer to your center, he bit and sucked hard. You let out a breath, a mix of pleasure and pain.

“When you think about this later, I want you to touch yourself and look at this,” he said, swiping the pad of his thumb over the welt he’d just left there.

You let out a shuddering breath and he began to nibble at your clit between his lips. When your hand automatically shot into his hair, he grabbed you by the wrist and removed it, holding your palm against the desk. His tongue lavished you, churning you into a frenzy, and it didn’t take long before you were back where you’d been before. You were panting and grinding your hips into him.

This time he let you hit your high and you trembled and thrashed as he worked at you. It felt like you’d been wiped out by a wave, not being able to sense up from down. You were mewling and shaking when you finally begged him to stop, overwhelmed and cloyed.

He stood and wiped you from his chin and then said, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

You nodded frantically. He pushed into you and you were sure he could feel you still fluttering around him. You were wetter than you could ever remember but still he was difficult for you to take and you inhaled sharply. He didn’t seem to care, snapping his hips into you and grunting, one hand balling your skirt in his fist against you. Soon, though, you were lost in the sensation of his thrusts.

You didn’t even realize that you were whining loudly as he fucked you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Professor York took your panties from his pocket and shoved them in your mouth to stifle your cries.

“You’re going to have to quiet down,” he rasped.

You whimpered against the fabric in your mouth and he smiled wickedly. He put his hand around the back of your neck to draw you in closer and he pressed into you faster and faster. He pulled out and you heard your own muffled moan at the loss of him. He worked at himself, spilling over your thigh and on your skirt with a groan.

Both of you took a moment to catch your breath and you watched as the professor leaned over you on his hands, swallowed, and then stood up, as composed as ever. He laughed quietly to himself as he took the panties out of your mouth and smoothed his hair.

“Put your clothes on. I have another class to get to,” he said, handing you a handkerchief and zipping himself up. He slid your panties back in his pocket.

You felt shaky on your feet after you’d mopped up his spend. You got dressed wondering how you were going to get through the rest of the day commando, with a ruined skirt, and the remnants of your professor’s cum drying onto your skin. He didn’t say anything else. You hooked your bag over your shoulder and Professor York looked you up and down one last time. He handed you back your essay. It was soaked through down the middle and you realized you’d been sitting on it on the desk. At the top was a new note in red pen: see me after graduation and his phone number.

You got an A.

-----

tagging some folks: @pascalslittlebrat @mouthymandalorian @starlightmornings @purplepascal042 @originallaura @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @tuskens-mando @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @goddessinwolfskin @stevie75 @yespolkadotkitty @danniburgh @221bshrlocked

[wincestation]

Wincest in the Pilot (aka my final paper)

2k of academic rambling. I got plenty of help and inspiration from this post and this blog review. Also huge thanks to @s2e11playthings for helping me find the latter. It is me! Essay-anon came out of the shadows!

The first interaction between the two brothers as adults occurs when Dean sneaks into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night. Sam fights the intruder before the latter pins him to the floor, making him realize it's his brother. The first words Dean tells him after not seeing him for two years are, "Easy, tiger." Dean's hand grabs Sam's neck and he smiles broadly at his little brother. As stated in the subsequent dialogue, the reason Dean appears this way is because he knows Sam would not have answered the phone if he had called. Why? the only reason Dean would call (which is also the reason he showed up) is that something happened to their father. Sam knows this, and maybe he didn't care if something really did happen to John. But what if John was the one who called? Maybe then Sam would answer, because he knows that this phone call has a different meaning: something happened to Dean.

Sam and Dean step outside to talk. Sam initially refuses to come with his brother, saying he is done with hunting, with the life that Dean and their father lead. Dean mocks Sam's aspiration for a normal life, perhaps as part of an attempt to persuade Sam to come with him, and return to the life they always shared together. After an argument between the two, involving emotional manipulations on both sides ("It wasn't easy, but it wasn't so bad", Dean dismisses Sam's words; "Do you think Mom would've wanted this for us?" Sam touches on a sensitive point), Dean understands that his brother is not about to give up, and finally reveals the real reason for his arrival:

Dean: I can't do this alone.

Sam: Yes, you can.

Dean: Well, I don't want to.

Dean completely contradicts everything he had said up to this point. In this sentence he expresses an emotional need for Sam, not a practical need. He could have sought out their father alone but chose not to; Maybe he saw the danger to his father's life as a good enough reason for Sam to come back to their lives again. Sam can not remain indifferent to this emotional vulnerability, and agrees to come with him - not because he cares what happens to their father, but because he too, like Dean, needs his brother and does not want to say goodbye to him again.

Sam agrees on one condition: he has an interview on Monday and he must get back on time. Dean agrees. Sam could have offered Dean to sleep on the couch and drive in the morning, or even go after the interview. But he does none of these things, and travels with him at that moment, in the middle of the night, without providing explanations to his girlfriend and without even kissing her goodbye. "At least tell me where you're going?" She calls after him as he leaves, with no answer. This urgency can be interpreted as a concern for the safety of Winchester Sr. but given the relationship between him and Sam, this is probably not the case. Why then is Sam in such a hurry to abandon the life he, allegedly, wants so much? In light of the dialogue between the two brothers the answer seems simple. He missed his brother, and now that he knows this feeling is mutual, he feels he has a good enough reason to leave the "normal" life behind - even if only for one weekend. This confirmation is the real reason he's arguing with his brother. The dialogue between them, according to this interpretation, is full of subtext:

Dean: I will not go until you come with me, or kick me out of your life forever.

Sam: If you want me to come, you need to tell me what I need to hear.

Dean: Don't make me say it out loud.

The two set out to find their father. After research, Sam and Dean discover that the monster of the week is a "woman in white" - a ghost that kills unfaithful men. Later in the episode, the ghost tries to attack Sam, who tells her she can't hurt him, because "I'm not unfaithful, I never was." She replies, "You will be." The hegemonic interpretation, presumably meant by the creators of the series, is that Sam is about to cheat on Jessica with the murderous ghost (with or without his consent). But Sam being targeted can be interpreted in another way. Is he going to betray his girlfriend by wanting to return to the life he shared with Dean and their father? Or even, can it be said that he did not betray her, but his brother, by leaving the family and trying to live a "normal" life with a woman?

The scene on the bridge, in which another confrontation takes place between Sam and Dean, can also be interpreted in two ways. Sam says, half in mockery and half in pity, "Mom is dead, and nothing will bring her back." Dean, in a fit of rage, grabs his brother and slams him at one of the bridge poles. "Don't you dare talk about her like that." This is of course one meaning of things. Another meaning could be, "Dean, I moved on, and nothing will bring me back." To this Dean responds in the only way he knows, "don't you dare not give up on me like that." Throughout the episode, and in this scene in particular, Dean repeatedly mocks Sam's choice to leave college - "Do you really think you're going to become a lawyer? Marry your girl?" - And this ridicule can stem from jealousy over the seemingly perfect and normal life that Sam managed to achieve, but at its core is another jealousy: Sam chose this life over a life with him.

The series hit screens in 2005. About two months after the premiere of the first episode, a blog review titled "Supermatural is Supergay" was published. The author described the series as follows:

It’s like the Hardy Boys, only gayer. I love the awkward sexual tension between the brothers. […] So Dean is the super control freak “top”. He has to be driving at all times. […] Sam rides in the passenger seat. He’s the soft spoken bottom boy, always staring out the window in this deep, dreamy state of mind. No idea what the hell he’s thinking about, but I suspect he is wondering where this relationship is going, and if Dean will ever say “I love you”.

Wait a minute… don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about incest here. See, that's the backstory. They are not really brothers. They are secret lovers, hiding their dirty affair. So they pretend to be brothers so nobody questions why they are together 24/7, why they share a bed. […] Throughout the episodes, they give each other hot glances. It’s never part of the dialogue, they just look like they will rip each other’s clothes off at any given moment. […]

UPDATE: On last Tuesday's episode, "Bugs", they were mistaken for a gay couple and then pretended to be a gay couple in the next scene. See, I told you they are gay guys pretending to be brothers. You heard it here first.

Although the writer was wrong in his assumption - Sam and Dean are indeed brothers - he makes a claim that will receive many reinforcements from the fans. There is a certain tension between the two characters, a codependence bordering on desperation that often later in the show will cause them to take extreme steps to keep each other safe. The brothers' love borders on obsession, which caused many fans to agree with the blogger's opinion - just a week after the first episode was aired, the first online community dedicated to the romantic relationship between the two brothers already opened (sn_slash, or Supernatural Slash, "for all your brotherly needs"). It is difficult to say whether the homoerotic clues came from the creators and were picked up by the audience, or whether the audience interpreted the show as he wished and the creators decided to satisfy their desires, but throughout the series there is recognition of the two's special relationship: In "Bugs" [1x08], everyone is convinced they are a couple and they continue the pretense; In later seasons, the brothers discover that books are being written about their lives, and that many fans of these books are convinced they are a couple (in "The Real Ghostbusters" [5x09] in the Supernatural convention, there is a panel called "The Homoerotic Undertones in Supernatural"); And many of the characters in the series, even those who know about the two being brothers, describe their relationship as one of codependence, blind and absolute love, for which they often sacrifice the entire world ("Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other", [5x19] "The point of no return").

Did the creators not understand that this is the message they are transmitting? It is hard to believe that they were unanimous on the subject, especially in light of all the reflexive references they themselves have planted in the show. If so, what could be their reason for engaging in a relationship that is fundamentally unnatural, perverse and forbidden, socially and often legally? This can be explained with the help of another issue - that of the exclusion of LGBTQ+ relationships from the public sphere and the lack of legitimacy for their visibility. Supernatural hit the screens in 2005, a time that may not seem so long ago, but its gay visibility is still lacking, and in which there was still no legitimacy to present a proud couple in popular culture. Maybe, as the blogger suggested in his review, the creators genuinely wanted to create a series that would center around love between two men, but felt that the world was not ready to see that content explicitly. After all, it was only a few decades ago that homosexuality was also perceived as unnatural, perverse and forbidden. Maybe acknowledging that, the creators chose to turn Sam and Dean into brothers, as if to reassure the conservatives: of course they are not just two men who are together at any given moment, staring at each other longingly and willing to sacrifice the whole world just so they won't be left without each other. That could be interpreted as homosexuality - and beyond the harsh criticism, such TV series simply wouldn't survive (or at least, that is how the creators may have felt at the time). And if some of the fans understood the true meaning in which the creators wanted engage, well, that was not in their hands.

To sum up, it is difficult to argue that this relationship is characterized as purely platonic. Even if the creators did not intend to create such an impression already in the first episode, they were aware of this impression and included explicit references to this unusual relationship. Although only an analysis of the first episode was conducted here, throughout the entire series there are unequivocal statements that support this assumption (some of which I mentioned above, but most of which have been omitted). And perhaps there is no need for many words beyond those uttered by the brothers themselves, for the first time in the pilot, and for the last time in the finale ("Carry on" [15x20]), before they said goodbye to each other for the last time: "I can't do this alone. I don't want to."

[akaashisupremacy]

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, ��Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

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

This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist. 

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

[vrishchikawrites]

About YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids Post-WWX Arrival

Dear Dee, feel free to delete or ignore this or post it, whatever floats your boat. This just stuck in my head after those posts and I had to blurt it all to someone. Thanks for taking the time to read my word vomit.

So I had to do this instead of an ask because it got long and I wasn't sure how many asks it'd need or how short I could cut it down without losing parts of the argument. And then other things came up as I was writing and, well.  Well..... >_>;;;; 

But you know, after that post/ask you had about YZY fics saying 'Fuck U' to YMJ/JFM & leaving both with her kids, I had a sarcastic 'yeah right' attitude about it. Mainly due to a lot of negation emotions to such an abusive (and delusional) bitch, partly due to how she wouldn't do that since it doesn't seem to be something her sort of character would consider either because she'd think of it as 'losing' (losing what, IDK, it's why I consider her type of person crazy) or she legit wouldn't think about such a viable action.

But then later, in the shower, I seriously went 'Wait, she can't fucking do that' and it wouldn't be about how MXTX uses her as a part of the narrative but entirely about the/their culture in the novel; the actions that have and would be taken in response; and her entire toxic personality as well.

1) We already know that the sects and the cultivation world in general is sexist, elitist and so Capital T 'Traditional' to the point that it's starting to petrify and any deviancy from this is an exception rather than the norm. YZY might be a madame of a great sect (for what that's worth considering how shit of a madame she's been and the titles she's chosen for herself) but she's still a woman even with her high rank and the things she's personally accomplished.

Even if she was in her rights to leave a 'bad' marriage, she'd be the one who'd get scolded more instead of JFM by her natal family, her former husband's family and by their entire society at large even if she had a few singular supporters. Because That's Not How Things Are Done in their society and I do believe that such a thing was rare even when it was accepted method by the upper echelons. Especially since it would have to be done by more than YZY simply deciding that She Wants Out and just- goes and Gets Out. With no serious allegations that would allow her to divorce or separate from YMJ/JFM without the input from her family, JFM's family and, I think, possibly some measure of compensation as well. And no, having or bringing in a 'bastard child' is not a serious enough offence for such a humongous decision. I think something more along the lines of treason or crimes against multiple, high-ranking parties would be more along the lines. Maybe.

And even if she does this, she'd be considered 'Used Goods' (such a terrible comment) and there'd be no other good/proper marriage prospects for a divorced woman with children let alone a woman like YZY with her entire abrasive personality and attitude put off even easy-going JFM.

(If she'd been widowed then it'd be more forgiven but I consider that a Real Bad End since, IMO, it would lead to the sudden and inevitable decline of YMJ either via mass exodus of disciples and/or residents of LP; being merged with another sect due to it's unstable leadership; or create an internal political war 'cause I bet you anything that the YMJ Elders/relatives (if they have any) Would Not Want YZY in charge of YMJ when she's already proven herself such a shit betrothed let alone madame.)

2) Speaking of families, while YMJ/JFM/LP as a whole might be glad to see YZY's back, I don't think her natal sect, MSY, will be glad to see her come storming back after all the effort they put into getting that particular marriage alliance with YMJ. And if she brings her children with her? Oh man, oh boy- mother or not, that could be considered as kidnapping or line theft (is that a thing?) especially if YZY is also seriously considering divorce proceedings and raising them as Yu and not Jiang. That could give leave to, for anyone more unforgiving and maybe JFM if he's pushed enough, disown both JYL and JWY from the Jiangs through no fault of their own (though I'm sure YZY would make it so as well as blame JFM for her own decisions and mistakes).

Therefore, any inheritance or benefits they might gain for being legitimised children of a great sect are forfeited. JYL will likely lose that betrothal with JZX because JGS will drop it like a hot potato and JWY won't be a sect heir because YZY literally decided to remove that by deciding to raise JWY as a Yu, no matter their blood relation to JFM. They leave him, they leave YMJ and everything attached with it. Which is if YMJ/JFM doesn't demand MSY to give back their heir/ess and to punish YZY for her actions. Or send all three of them back for the appropriate reactions/decisions.

Their society would demand no less in reaction because, to them, it would seem like YZY had gone mad and JFM would look weak (or weaker) and imply that YMJ is vulnerable and exploitable if JFM doesn't do something in response to her actions. That's not even getting into what the other smaller sects may try to do in an attempt to curry favour with YMJ or what LLJ or QSW would try in order to destroy or diminish YMJ. And whether JFM chooses to demand his children back or not, it may not change the fact that this may give him reason enough to choose a nephew or niece to be the new sect heir especially if, even after getting rid of YZY's poisonous influence, JWY grows up to be his mother's child more than his father's or even his own person.

Either way, such a thing would bring great backlash on YZY, and MSY as well as the collateral. No one would want to give face to her or her children because it would bring up some very uncomfortable questions and scenarios to the other sects- specifically, what would happen if the female members of their clans/sets decided to follow the footsteps of YZY and leave with their children and heirs. Especially if they use it as an excuse to leave for their own comfort and whims and not some legitimate wrongs and dangers. That would create some more restrictions on women thanks to YZY

3) And lastly, if any one of those idiot YZY stans think that she'd ever give up the status of being a madame of a great sect they'd be as crazy or crazier than her. YZY is all about status and power and face. Specifically, her status, power and face and how people in her reach reflect her or 'insult' her. She is a selfish, terrible, abusive and toxic person and can only see people in regards to how they would benefit her and the elevation of her and in no other way. Especially her family. They cannot be their own person, they can only be an extension of her and gods forbid they go against her.

We can see this in how she treats the people she supposedly loves. JFM? Arguments day in, day out along with accusations and slander of cheating, having one(1) supposed 'bastard' and being 'in love' with CSSR. Which all seems sus as hell. And that's when she's actually there and not out 'night hunting'. Even her 'training' seems to border on unhelpful rather then helpful if my vague recollections of juniors fainting from exhaustion can be relied upon (please call me out if they're not or find proof).

JYL? Berated by not being 'strong' but not helped at all to be 'strong'. It doesn't help that YZY seems to believe in the same standards strength in their society- that is, of martial masculine strength which does not and should not apply to JYL who has been said to be sickly. Which means h should have been learning a different way of cultivation/fighting anyway.  If that was something she wanted and had been offered in the first place- which I doubt. That isn't even getting into her repeated generational trauma mess of a betrothal which was decided only by those 'sworn sisters', accepted by her as a way out of her terrible home life and puts her squarely within reach of JGS who we know to be a womaniser, rapist, predator and a possible ephebophile considering we don't know the exact age of his youngest 'conquest' or the age of MZY's mother when they met which could be anywhere from 14 to 21.

JWY? Gods, so much meta on him and his(non-) relationships with his parents that I don't think I can contribute more to it. It's been all said and done. Unless people want me to stir the pot by saying that, maybe, just maybe, YZY resents JWY as much as she 'loves' him.Either because he's her son and yet never manages to 'accomplish as much' as WWX or because he's a boy and therefore, more benefits and allowances than a girl/woman- more than anything that YZY ever got without either a fight or screaming at someone about. *shrug*

So, in conclusion to this sudden an unexpected essay that I wrote(I'm so sorry about that, I thought it would be shorter -.-;;;;), YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids? Impossible. Not without some sort of personality transplant or a complete AU. She's too prideful, too bitter, too angry, too everything negative and little positive. She's a resentful product of the values and restraints of her society taken to the extreme negative with a willingness to inflict her pain on others to an abusive degree. But she's also too obsessed and reliant on those same values and restraints to keep up the image of her status. So her? Giving those up? You'd be more likely to see WRH as a doting grandfather than that.

---

Dee - All of this is true and yes YZY leaving YMJ is highly unlikely. While there will be consequences if she decides to leave, she does canonically lives separately from her husband. They seem to be in a situation where they are married but living separately, which was a common way to end a marriage (at least in spirit) back then. She essentially had all the perks of being Madam Jiang but fulfilled none of the responsibilities.

Afaik, her training the Jiang disciples is a donghua thing? I may be wrong but I recall she spent most of her time nighthunting.

As for taking her children along with her- that's completely impossible. At that point, children were the property of the father. She could leave but she would've never been allowed to take JC.

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Remus sorts out his feelings about Sirius. 

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues.

Chapter 4

If someone had been there to witness what happened to Remus after Sirius had left the dorm, they would have had given him the longest hug to repress his teeming guilt that had gushed out of him so hard that he had collapsed on the floor, rocking back and forth for tears to come out, but they never came. He never wanted things to be turned this way between him and Sirius, which were completely unexpected. Sure, he did fantasize of being asked out by Sirius, but not in his right mind he had ever had any hopes for it to happen. He really underestimated Sirius. He was strongly reminded that the void in his chest was Sirius’ absence in his life which was expanding day by day, ripping his heart in the midst. He wanted Sirius. So much. He felt selfish��in fact he was selfish, and right now it didn’t seem like much of a sin.

He was again at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, sipping coffee heedlessly, mind floating elsewhere in the crack of dawn. There were no classes today due to the Yule Ball in the evening. He had nothing to distract himself with. Surprisingly, he was greeted by a very unusual couple that he had to blink his eyes a little too much to believe he was seeing right.

“Oh, stop blinking! I know it’s hard to believe.” Lily Evans grumbled, with a slight amusement in her voice.

“Oh Evans, it’s not hard for me to believe. I am very much alive right now!” Yes, that was none other than James Potter, grinning his usual stupid, stupid smirk.

“For your information, we are not dating, Potter. We are just friends who happened to be going on a very casual event of our school.” Lily imitated a very elegant voice, smiling successfully that James couldn’t stop looking at her—or couldn’t stop swooning at her.

“Sure.” He shrugged, the smile not leaving his face for a second. They both slipped into their seats beside Remus, but they didn’t sit together. James and Lily were sitting on Remus’ sides. When the silence had prolonged for more than it was necessary, he found both of them staring at him.

“What?” He was utter confused.

“You think we are unable to see that long face of yours?” Lily commented, arching her brows like Mcgonacall. He shook his head slightly. He knew that he was not going to get away from this, “Tell us what happened?”

Remus was unable to gather words. He felt like he had no ounce of energy left in his body.

“I don’t know what to tell…” He trailed off.

“Okay, how about you tell us what are you feeling?” She put her hand on his.

“I don’t know that either.”

“Okay, okay…Umm. How about we ask you questions and you try to answer them?” Remus was not thrilled with her idea, so he stayed silent which she took it as his approval, “Did you have a fight with Sirius?”

“Not exactly a fight…” Remus was replaying the memory in his head for the infinith time, “Merlin, I wish it had been a fight.”

“Was it about…what he did with Snap—“ Lily was cut off by the shake of his head.

“No, it was not about that!” He said irritatingly, “We are way past that, okay?” He wasn’t asking but he was making it clear.

“Are you?” James interjected.

“Look, I have forgiven him long time ago. It’s just getting difficult to be, you know…normal?”

“Okay, let’s talk straight here, mate,” James put his arm around Remus—which was a typical ‘James Potter move’ when he was trying to convince someone, “You guys were dating before…all of that,” He did a vague hand gesture, “And right now, you guys are just these uncomfortable exes who are missing each other so much but have a tendency to ignore that.”

“Of course, I miss Sirius. He was my only best friend, James.” James gasped dramatically, making a show of how mocked he felt by his comment. Remus rolled his eyes at him.

“Yes, but James is trying to say that you guys miss being each other’s boyfriends.” Lily said those words with such gentleness that Remus felt heat creeping up on his neck. He was suddenly reminiscing the best memories of his life when he was dating Sirius.

“You are an ignorant, self-centered and a mean boyfriend, do you know that?” Remus replied blankly, his temper had reached the level of exhaustion because Sirius was right that Remus was never going to win any arguments with him. So he flopped on his bed but Sirius crawled from his behind to take him in his arms.

“But you love me.” He whispered, planting tiny kisses on Remus’ ear and jaw. Remus had turned into a mush, because it felt so good. He decided that he wasn’t unhappy on his position in their relationship. His mind made a mental note to himself that he’d rather let Sirius win all the arguments if it meant that he was never going to leave Remus.

“I do, I do love you.” He whispered back.

“Moony?”

“Remus?”

Remus jerked out of his ruminating to see James and Lily gawking at him.

“Sorry, just zoned out of the conversation.” He cleared his throat and Lily offered him her coffee.

“You’re a mess, Rem. You need to sort this out with yourself.” She was right, Remus knew, but he also wanted someone to tell him what to do.

“What do I do?”

“Go to the dance with him!” James piped up, and Remus flinched, “What?”

“Urgh. That was how it all started…”And then he told them what happened when Sirius asked him to be his date, how it turned out, and how infuriatingly he didn’t know what to do.

“You have a date!?” Lily scowled at him. Not only James was looking disappointed by the news, but Remus also felt sick of himself.

“I am the worst person in the world. I messed up. I messed everything! I knew that this was not what I wanted! I never wanted to date anyone. And yes, I admit, I haven’t moved on. Not even a little bit. I still think about him, and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he had always been the one to calm me down whenever I’m angry or sad but then Snape happened, and I made a promise with myself that I will never let Sirius come near me. But I was this overconfident shit that I thought I will be able to handle all it. And then I wasn’t…and I can’t…”

His chest was thundering as the sobs began to cloud his throat, waiting for Remus to let go of himself. He didn’t want anyone to touch him otherwise, he’d never stop crying now that his heart was opening and becoming vulnerable.

“Moony…” James’ gentle voice was enough to bring his emotion at the brink of his eyes. He didn’t just underestimate Sirius, but also himself. That was very unlike Remus. He hated being the center of attention, he hated breaking down in public, and he hated people’s soft words—let alone the physical gestures.

“Don’t.” It was all he could manage to say when Lily had touched his arm. He was on his feet as he fled the hall, in desperate need to reach the lavatory.

So it was about what happened with Snape, came a voice in his head when he was inside the vacant bathroom. There was still mistrust, swimming with his judgments. His mind was telling him that he shouldn’t commit the same mistake of getting into relationship with Sirius but his heart was not helping at all. It was so in love. He was trying breathe properly.

Let love be your guide, his heart said.

And then get lost? His mind retorted.

Yes! Remus wanted to slap himself.

He had been pushing feelings all of his life. He had been very difficult with Sirius for straight two days when Sirius had confessed that he was in love with him. The most remarkable thing was that Sirius understood his struggle with feelings and emotions. He had the art to scoop them out of Remus’ system. Moony, this is the only way to calm yourself, he had said to him. And now, as Lily had said, he was a mess. Without him. Without Sirius.

After few hours—what felt like minutes—he washed his miserable face and walked to the courtyard. He didn’t want to go the Gryffindor Tower to face anyone. He was a wreck. He didn’t want to face Sirius either, so he just sat by the outdated fountain where the tree was protecting him from the sun. He decided that he was not going to the Ball. He just wanted to rehearse his future act of turning down Catherina Johnson gently. He relaxed himself there. It had been fifteen minutes, and he had been thinking of his DADA essay for Patronus charms, which was a win-win for him as a distraction.

However, it wasn’t long when he took out his wand and tried to cast a patronus.

“Expecto Patronum.” He whispered, thinking about the time when his friends had first time accompanied him to the moon as Animagus. A silver wisp glowed on the tip of his wand but then died out after a second, which made him eventually want to think about the moments that had made him genuinely happy. He thought about the time when Sirius had told him he was a good kisser, when he had told him that they should start dating, and a lot more but they were not strong enough to cast full patronus, just a silver light flickering. He was confused. He focused and focused, becoming impatient. He was also worrying if Sirius was not associated with his happiest memory then maybe Remus had been in an oblivion—or say, stupid in love. He knew that love was the most powerful element to do wonders, even in the wizarding world. But What if it was never love? What if it was just infatuation? Then why was his heart hammering so violently in his chest? But then he was suddenly reminded of a very bad day in his fifth year when he was walking by the dungeon where the sixth-years were taking their Potions class, and Slughorn had called him to volunteer.

“Mr Lupin here is a fifth year, and he has advanced enough to brew Veritaserum which is supposed to be taught in his next year. Uh—Mr Lupin please, come forth and—Mr Lupin?”

Remus was extremely annoyed by a certain scent saturating the room. He was sniffing, and whipping his head to follow it. He had completely forgotten that he was volunteering with Professor Slughorn because he is so concentrated on the scent which is filling his nostrils, making him quite dizzy.

“What is this smell, Professor?” He asked, still looking here and there. He knew that some of his senior students were making fun of him as the room was filled with faint sounds of sniggers and snorts.

“Mr Lupin, you are in a Potion classroom, there are numerous of potions sitting out…” Remus ignored his rambling because the scent is getting stronger. He couldn’t put a finger on it because it was reminding him of many things. Musk, which was making him lightheaded. Cigarettes. Damp hair after hot shower. The feeling of leather on skin, and also the forbidden forest. The scent had a strange sense of familiarization. It was vague but he was drawn to it. It was like he was sitting in the heart of someone—someone he knew, because he could feel their heart beat in his ears.

Remus’ whole day was a disaster because he couldn’t brew the Veritaserum properly, Slughorn had sent him back to his dorm, he was tackled by Peeves on his way, and he was also annoyed by some portraits which had made fun of his scars. After his prefect rounds, he entered the common room with a foul mood, and spotted Sirius Black sitting alone on the couch. He looked at his pocket watch and found that it was past midnight. Sirius stood up and held out his arms, smiling at him. Remus threw his satchel and books away, and fell into Sirius’ arms. He was embraced so tightly and warmly.

They both stayed quiet, and Remus nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck. That was when his eyes snapped both because he caught a whiff of the same scent that had been annoying him in the Potions.

“That scent.” Remus murmured, pulling away from Sirius.

“What scent?” Sirius asked, perplexed.

“Oh! Not you, now! I have had enough of it! This scent is driving me mad, Sirius!”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Moony, why are you crying?”

“What?”

“You are crying.”

“Oh.”

“Come here.”

He was embraced again, and then it hit him. That scent was Sirius. It was not coming from somewhere, it was just Sirius’ scent. Very natural, and very Sirius. The potion he had smelled in the dungeon was Amortentia. Sirius had always been the one to give Remus the physical interaction he shared with no one in his group. Due to his claustrophobia, he had always found hugging very uncomfortable, but not with Sirius, never with Sirius.

“I’m claustrophobic.”

“I know.” Sirius tightened his hold on Remus, pulling him impossibly closer, and he was not choking for breath. That made him cry, more and more. He was not embarrassed for the streaming tears, so he let them fall because it was just Sirius. His home.

“Expecto Patronum.”

A full grown silver dog shot out of his wand, running in circles around Remus enthusiastically. And suddenly, Remus realized why such an odd memory was his happiest and the most powerful one because it was the day when he was brought in front of the raw truth that he was in love with Sirius Black.

It was afternoon, and everyone was gathering for lunch a little earlier because the Great Hall was going to be sealed for the decorations of the Yule Ball until the evening. Remus looked around him, everyone was beaming and laughing with the exhilaration for tonight. He needed to find Sirius. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him, at least. He walking quickly through the crowd, looking for him.

“Hey Remus!” He turned to find Catherina staring at him. Remus groaned internally.

“Hi, Catherina.” He tried to smile.

“Oh, call me Cathy. My friends calls me Cathy.” They fell into brief silence but she break it—to Remus’ horror, “So what’s the color of your robes tonight?” He frowned at her, “Oh, it’s okay if you don’t to tell but please don’t wear anything mustard. I have an extreme aversion to—“

“Catherina, I can’t go with you tonight.” He tried to ignore the hammering of his heart.

“What?” She looked distraught.

“I’m sorry—“

“Is this because of Black?”

“What does Sirius has to do with any of this?”

“Oh you bet your arse, it is! You guys think you are so subtle.” Remus is frozen in his place, “Who do you think you are? You thought I was just a bloody nobody to whom you’ll say yes without having to mean it—“

“Catherine, it’s not like that! I’m not feeling well, I can’t go—“

“Oh, save it, Lupin! You first agreed to be my date and broke Black’s heart, and now you’re going to his date by breaking mine?” She looked hurt, very hurt and Remus wanted to just die because her words were too true to be painful, “Can’t you see what you are doing?”

“I am so sorry, Cathy. Please. And I’m not going with anyone!” But she was shaking his head, “You have to believe me. And you are right, I did break your heart and you have no idea how pathetic I feel! I am a terrible person. I don’t deserve to be your date.”

“You are not,” She spoke after a brief silence, “You are not a terrible person. You are just stupid.”

“Same thing.”

“Look, you didn’t break my heart. You hurt my feelings, and I didn’t expect that from you. But you know what, people surprise you.” There is a very awkward silence between them and Remus couldn’t stop himself from apologizing. She gave him a long strange look, and then walked away.

Remus didn’t stand for any longer, he began walking. The thoughts, the guilt, the pain, the unjust things, the stupid acts, unfathomable love, all of that was dawning upon him at every step he was taking. His pace was becoming frantic as he reached closer to the Gryffindor Tower.

He entered the common room, his heart was racing abnormally. He paid no heed to the fourth-years standing in their robes and gowns. He ascended the staircase to his dormitory. For a second, he thought he was the same fifth-year student fleeing the Potions class because a certain scent had screwed up his day. He barged into the dorm just like he had on that day in the common room.

And once again, he found none other than Sirius Black, sitting alone in the room.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 5 is coming soon!

[internalsealpanic]

The Thorn pt.1

summary: “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

 or my 6 thousand word essay on why I want more Sugar daddy!Slade fics.

a/n: This is just straight up smut Never combine stress thirst plus an amazing enabler. Thanks to @littleredwing89 for basically co-writing. Also I need more case fics with undercover gentlemen’s clubs stuff.  I will edit this for grammar later. 

warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault (for the case), mirror sex, collars, oral (male receiving), choking, kind of public sex?, size kink (this is to be expected at this point), strength kink,  reader is kind of a dumbass, and praise kink. 

villain’s masterlist or masterlist

Saying this wasn’t your scene would be like saying the sun is bright. Obvious but wholly inadequate in describing just how out of your depth you are. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt to shield them from prying eyes. The soft fabric of your lingerie feeling too little in contrast to the men clad in expensive suits leering at you as they passed your skittish form.

 You try to swallow down the nervousness. You try to tell yourself this is fine, that it’s just for the case. But the silk collar tied tightly around your neck and your own fraying nerves made it extremely difficult to ignore just how vulnerable you felt. 

 God, what made your awkward ass think you could pull this off?

 You lift your head, eyeing the other men and women around you. You all wore matching silk ribbons tied into bows behind your neck, a circular, silver tag hanging off of it. You wrinkle your nose at how young some of them look. Some barely look old enough to be anywhere near a place like this. 

 Part of you feels thankful that you shut Nicky’s idea down to go with a leather lingerie set but the stark contrast of your lacy lingerie set made you stand out too much in the sea of leather. It made you stand out just enough to color both your cheeks and ears from the amount of attention you were getting. You close your eyes trying to ignore the heat permeating from your skin. You try to focus on the details of the case. 

 For the last 8 months, there’s been an increase in the number of young men and women going missing and turning up dead. The assumption had been that it was due to the increase in gang activity but something felt off about the deaths. 

 Nothing was consistent. The victim type, the area, and even the M.O. of sexual assault were varied. Only the mode of death was even close to being consistent but even that presented its own problems. The injuries were too clean, too efficient for the killer to have drawn any pleasure from it especially when contrasted with the victims’ other injuries.  Normally people who make those injuries have a certain type and a certain way of doing things. And the clean efficiency of the disposal method had easily ruled out any of the local gangs. 

 When you brought all of this up to your boss, he waved you off saying something about looking into it. Somehow not getting fired after screaming at your boss (probably because you’re one of the few crime scene techs willing to stay in this shithole), you decide to conduct your own investigation. The more clues you uncovered (out of sheer spite) the more they seemed to point to an organized crime group, likely involved in trafficking.

 Finally, after a month and a half of searching, you found a solid lead. Augustus Klineberg. Despite the name, he was new money. At least, here in Merit.  

 “I’m his type!”

 “And so are a dozen bodies laying around in the lab, what’s your point?”

 “Sita, got me a part-time job at the Thorn.”

 It hadn’t been easy. The thorn was an exclusive gentlemen’s club that specialized in certain kinks. It had taken Sita a week to even get you an interview but after that they eagerly accepted you with worrying enthusiasm. Either way, this conversation was simply a formality. 

 Bernard stares at you and you watch as his entire being crumples into the dining room table. He turns to his husband pleadingly. “Nicky, Please, my love, talk some sense into her.”

 You turn to Nicky who is innocently sipping from his coffee mug filled with whatever ungodly creation came to Bernard in the dead of night. He tilts his head back seemingly collecting the right words. “Y/n has a point.”

 “No! Not you too!”

 “Yes!”

 “Bern, think about it. Klineberg would never suspect her and unlike most of Klineberg’s victims, Y/n is a ninja gremlin.”

 Bernard gives him a withering look while you snort. Nicky shrugs and continues to drink his, what you assumed was, liquid crack. 

 “Y/n, are you sure about this? The Thorn- Well, it isn’t exactly like your other undercover jobs.” You give both of them a cocky smile, biting into your mini waffle. “It can’t be that hard. All I have to do is sit there and look pretty.” At that little remark, Nicky burst out into a fit of laughter loud enough to wake the neighbors. 

You run your hand through your hair still, feeling flustered. You need air. 

 “Hey Nina, I’m gonna need like maybe 5 minutes.”

 “Sure, just don’t blame me for whatever excuse I give the bossman,” Nina says, shrugging at you. She flips her red curls over her shoulder, winking at a patron and tilting her hips to show off her curves. Both you and the patron are slack-jawed and entranced. Maybe you should try that sometime? Some time being after you stop gawking at Nina’s ass and probably also after you take in some air. 

 You shuffle away awkwardly keeping your eyes to the ground. You shrink into yourself easily as you cut through the crowd. This case was going to be the death of you and Bernard’s eulogy would just be a very short but satisfying ‘I told you so’. 

 Mercifully, you find a quieter area. You would have preferred to go outside but standing alone in a dark alley in skimpy underwear might be a bad idea. You flatten yourself against a wall and close your eyes. Maybe you could tell them you aren’t feeling well which isn’t entirely untrue. You felt sick being this vulnerable. You should probably leave before you do something stupid. 

 A hand on your wrist drags you back to reality. It takes absolutely everything in you not to break his wrist. You open your eyes to see Klineberg hoovering in your personal space. 

 “Are you ok?” He asks, the concern in his voice sounding synthetic. You try to wriggle out of his hold not bothering to hide your discomfort. You note how his smile seems to get bigger as you struggled more. Clearly, he was enjoying your discomfort. 

   “Thanks for finding her for me. The manager said she’d be in this general area but it’s quite hard to see with just one eye.” Slade says casually, settling a large hand on the man’s shoulder. Your heart stops. Of all the people you had to run into-

  Klineberg eyes him skeptically. You have to respect him for that. You’ve faced Slade several times before, only making it out due to luck or hours of planning. If you were Klineberg, you’d be pissing yourself. Despite the almost friendly expression Slade had on him, you can tell this wasn’t up for negotiation. And apparently, so can Klineberg seeing how he dropped your hand. 

 Slade waves a neatly dressed man over. The man eyes you appraisingly and your heart takes an express elevator to your throat. Were you that obviously out of place? 

 “We’ll be taking a room.”

 “Of course, sir,” The man answers politely, finally, taking his eyes off of you and handing Slade a key. 

 Wait. We?

 Slade starts walking without a word, the crowd parting for him easily.  You briefly look back at Klineberg who is still looking at you like he’s going to tear you apart with his bare hands before following Slade.  

 You walk behind him wordlessly. Your mind is still reeling from the fact that Slade ‘Deathstroke: The Terminator’ Wilson just saved you from your target and your own terrible acting and is mortified by the fact that he has now seen you in skimpy lingerie. The steps you take are measured, making sure to stick close to him but not too close.  You keep your eyes to the ground as you walk behind him, hoping it’s enough to hide the expressions cycling through your face. 

 You two enter a room. It was unexpectedly spacious even under the dim neon lights. You look around finding the room furnished with expensive decorations looking nothing like the seedy gentlemen’s clubs you’ve busted before save for the pole in the middle of the room. It looked more akin to an expensive hotel bar, again, save for the pole. The darkness of the room and the quiet flow of the music set quite the intimate atmosphere which just made you that more skittish. 

 Slade makes his way across the room, eyes searching the corners and spaces of the room. He nods seemingly satisfied with the setup and likely not spotting any recording devices. Your stiff shoulders loosen a bit, if nothing else you could at least speak plainly now. 

 Slade takes his suit jacket off, revealing broad shoulders and the outline of strong back muscles. Your throat dries. Something warm stirs in you and you’re gawking again. God, you really need a better reaction to attractive people. 

 Slade holds out a glass of whiskey to you, a playful smile on his handsome face. He doesn’t seem to mind you staring at him. You swear viciously not skimping on colorful words but walk over to take the alcohol regardless. It’s on his tab and you honestly needed some alcohol in your system if you’re going to talk to him.

 “So, working for the cops not work out for you?”

 “Nah, my last sugar daddy just kicked the bucket, so I’m looking for a new one,” you say, giving Slade a wry smile.  You watch him cross one leg over another easing into a relaxed position through the wall. It was polished to a mirror shine. You guess that’s the kind of thing rich people liked. 

 “Hmmm, that can be arranged.” You choke on your drink. You scowl at him. He simply shrugs at you taking a sip of his whiskey. 

 You hear the door open, forcing you to pretend to be civil. A man around your age, dressed in a classic waiter’s outfit comes in with a tray of whiskey and two glasses. You don’t know how but you can tell the whiskey is worth more than your apartment. This doesn’t help your urge to punch Slade. 

“Will you be requiring any special toys tonight, sir?” The straightforward tone of the question makes you stiffen more than anything. The man’s eyes flicker towards you but his focus remains squarely on Slade who eyes you openly before smiling and saying “No, thanks, Anthony. I think we’ll be just fine.”

 "If you say so, sir. Please feel free to let us know if you need anything." 

 You wait for Anthony to leave before turning the full force of your scowl at Slade.“How the hell did you know his name?”

 Slade regards you impassively over the rim of his glass. You refuse to break eye contact.  He raises his hands in mock surrender.  “Alright, Kitten, you caught me. I do frequent this club quite a bit.”

 “You kinky shit.”

 He eyes you again, his eye clearly tracing your curves. “I’m not the one sitting here in their underwear with a collar on. Speaking of which-” Slade nods his head towards something in front of both of you. 

 You look at the pole, blinking dumbly as a smile spreads across his face. He tips his head to it. “I did pay for your time and the customer is always right.”

 Your mouth twists into a snarl as the tips of your ears run red. “You are insufferable.”

 “Don’t make me call the manager.” You sigh at the unspoken ‘it is definitely going to blow your cover and get you shot. At best.’ and begrudgingly you make your way to the pole. 

 You grip the pole in front of you, flexing your fingers against the cold metal. Anxiety thrums under your skin. Your eyes flick nervously to Slade who’s got the audacity to sit comfortably, sip whiskey, and smirk at you as if he was completely in his element. 

 “No need to be shy. Be a good girl and give us a good show,” he says, winking at you. Your hackles rise and your face pulls into a frown before rearranging itself into a sultry smile. You put one heel in front of you, hooking your leg around the pole and grinding your clothed sex into the metal in an undulating motion that has Slade clenching his hand around his glass. You try your hardest to grin and you suspect you’ve failed. Not that Slade’s noticed considering his eye is laser-focused on your ass. 

 With your one leg on the floor, you push yourself into a spin. Your body tips back as your hand runs down your face, chest, and abdomen drawing attention to the plains of exposed skin and delicate fabric accenting your shape. Pulling your body back up, you let your body slide down to the floor. Your legs split as soon as you made contact with the floor giving him a full view of your ass. He whistles appreciatively, tilting his head. You watch him through thick lashes, eyes bright and predatory under the neon lights. You roll onto your hand and knees. He smiles down at you watching the sweat drip down the valley of your breasts.  You were a sight to behold. 

 Slade pats his knee. “Come here, kitten.” Hunger flashes in his blue eye. It sends a warm shock through your system. It’s odd being looked at like that but you can’t feel yourself getting too concerned over it. Not when it sends a pleasant hum through your mind. 

 You crawl towards him in time with the movement, slow and steady in its place. Stopping in front of him. A large hand grasps your chin, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.  

 You sit on his lap, hand grasping his broad shoulder. Embarrassment floods back into your system now that you’re this close, now that you had the full force of that hungry gaze on you. You feel your skin heat and the weight of his gaze makes your stomach flip. 

 Seduction was other people’s gig, not yours. 

 Large hands settle on your waist, pressing circles into your skin. The buzzing feeling in your brain returns and you refocus on your task. His hands slide down the side of your body, fingers digging into your hips. His hands follow the circular motions your hips make on his crotch and guides you over the growing bulge. You hear his breath catch and hiss as you grind down on his crotch. You wrap your hands around the silk tie dangling from his neck and roughly pull him into a kiss.  

 His fingers dig into the meat of your ass drawing an embarrassingly loud yelp from you and giving him access to your mouth. You suck on his tongue and receive a pleased groan from him. Your tongues wrestle for control as he kneads your ass, making you mewl and moan into the kiss. You break the kiss needing air while Slade admires his work. 

 When Slade dips in for another kiss, you pull away pushing off of his broad chest a flirty smile dancing across your features. You turn from him, heels clicking against the floor as your show off the lushness of your figure.  In the mirror, you see Slade settling back into his position and grinning at the corners of the room again. His arms relax on the back of the couch. 

You close your eyes and let the music swallow you whole. You don’t dare hazard a glance at the mirror. You sashay your hips to the music, loosening your tense muscles. You open your eyes giving Slade your best seductive smile. You run your hands up your body, tangling into your hair. 

 You bite your lip as you slide them back down. Your fingers catch against the collar. Slade’s mouth twists.  

 You ease your arms out of your bra and let it drop to the floor. Your nipples pebble in the cold night air. The sight of them makes the corners of Slade’s mouth twitch. You push past the warmth stirring in your stomach in favor of trailing your hands down your body. Your fingers toy with the straps of your panties, watching as Slade licks his lips in anticipation.  You slide the flimsy garment down your legs, bending over and giving him a good view of your wet pussy through the mirror. 

 Stepping out of them, you toss them at Slade, who just to be an asshole, catches and pockets them. He grins at you and shrugs unapologetically. You scowl at him putting as much venom into your features as much as possible.      

You sway your lush hips in time with the music, letting the slow beat dictate the rhythm of your movements as you saunter towards him. You swallow, the silk collar still wound tightly around your neck. The intensity of his gaze makes you painfully aware of your nakedness but the embarrassment heating your skin shoots straight to your core, making you shudder. 

 Reaching him, you straddle his thighs, your plump ass grazing over his growing bulge. You moan, mouth-watering at the sensation. Your mind dwells on the feeling, your insides growing slick at the thought of him inside you. 

 Your fingers trail up your thighs and up over your stomach. You watch as his eye follows the slow tantalizing movement. His large hands grip onto the plush headrest of the couch, squeezing them as his face twists just a smidge with a mix of exertion and frustration. 

 You give him a playful smile as you slow the gyrating of your hips. A growl rumbles from his chest and you snap your hips back against his erection, the loose movement of your body hypnotic like ocean waves. Tipping your head back into his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. Your hips continue to undulate against him, feeling the deep bass of the music ripple through your body along with the shockwaves of heat coming from your core as you grind it against his bulge. The coarse feeling of the fabric against your core making your knees grow weak.  

 A sinful moan tumbles out of your lips followed closely by breathy panting. You let your eyes slide shut soaking up the sensation of his suit against your skin. You reach behind you hooking your arms around Slade’s broad shoulders to steady yourself as your press closer to his large form. He presses his lips to your neck, the prickle of his beard against your skin making you shiver. “Yeah, just like that, kitten,” he murmurs against your skin, a large hand settling on your thigh.

 You push further into him. You grind your hips, the movement deep and slow. Your hand tangles in his hair, gently guiding him to your lips. Your lips move against each other just as your bodies do, slow and sensual. You catch his lips between your teeth, nipping at it. He chuckles at your invitation, sliding his tongue inside your mouth and joining your lips once again. Below you, you feel another large hand hook onto your thigh. Both hands grip your thighs fiercely pulling them further apart, exposing your sopping pussy to the cold night air. 

 Slade breaks away from your kiss, his panting breaths hot fanning your face. You stare at each other with half-lidded eyes, lust bright in them even in the low light. He captures your lips again in a quick kiss before planting one on your shoulder. “Play with yourself,” he says, the command steady and rough against your ear. 

 The tone of his voice makes you shiver as you reluctantly release your hold on his shoulders. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, you slowly slide your hand down your body, mewling into his skin when you reach into your neglected folds. You slip two fingers in immediately. You shudder and bite your lips trying to stop any obscene sounds from escaping. 

 A hand tilts your chin, coaxing you. “Good girl, look at yourself. Look just how wet you are just for me, kitten,” Slade says, nibbling at your ear. You yelp, your hips bucking into your hand, ass rolling against his member. You watch yourself in the mirror red-faced, open-mouthed, and sinful. Your dripping sex is in full view only obscured by your hand as your fingers dip in and out of your core. Slade’s eye never leaves the mirror even as he plants kisses against your skin. His large hand grasps your neck making sure you don’t look away from the mirror. You think of how easily he could break you and you feel like you’re on fire. 

 You're so close.  You’re so so close. You can even see the desperation carving itself so plainly on your face. Anxiety and arousal mix into a potent cocktail in your gut. The nervousness from earlier rearing its ugly head. You whine in frustration, adding in a third finger but you can’t seem to reach over the edge. You hear him chuckle behind you and see him grin into your skin. At least, one of you was having fun. 

 He gives your shoulder another rough kiss, leaving a mark before speaking. “Having some trouble, kitten?” You wrinkle your nose at his tone but...in truth, you were. You bite your lip not knowing what to say. You’re so close but… the venue made you shy and that was an entirely different problem.  Using the hand on your neck, Slade tilts your head towards him, the heat from his lips ghosting over yours. “All you have to do is ask for help, kitten,” he murmurs against your lips. The vibrations send another shockwave of desperation wreaking havoc throughout your already oversensitive body. 

 He tilts your head back to look at the mirror. You can feel your ears warm at the thought of begging but you’re a hair’s breadth away from your end. Biting your lips and furrowing your brow, you take a steadying breath but it still comes out breathy when you exhale due to the hand squeezing your thigh drifting closer to your core. He presses slow circles into your inner thigh with his thumb, his teeth nibbling at your shoulder leaving marks. A vicious curse leaves your lips blunted by a moan that follows it. 

 “Slade, please. Please. Sir, please.”

 “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

 You tighten your grip on his hair and roll your hips against his. He growls in your ear but he doesn’t budge. “Use your words, kitten,” he commands, sounding far more patient than he actually is. You whimper, rocking against him. He holds you still, fingers digging into your flesh and body leaning into yours. “Words.”

 You pant, hot breaths loud in your ears. Whether it was his or your own you were hearing, you didn’t know and didn’t care, not when your head was jumbled with the buzzing under your skin. You swallow. His eye following the movement of your throat and the silver glint of your tag winking at you in the mirror. “Slade- Sir, please- Please, I need you. I need you inside me.”

 “That wasn’t too hard now was it?” He says capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You scream against his lips when you feel two large calloused fingers thrust into your core, stretching you replacing the ache in your core with a burning stretch. Slade releases you, steadying you so that your eyes are once again on the mirror. You both watch as his fingers pump in and out of you, the room filling up with your moans. “Keep your eyes on the mirror and watch as I make you cum.”

 He presses his thumb against your clit. The syllables of his name coming out garbled and incoherent. You cum with a whimper. Your body shakes uncontrollably, your bones melting. Your lungs take in greedy gulps of oxygen feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of them. Slade lets your head lull back against his shoulder. You press little kisses against the powerful muscles of his neck. “Thank you, sir.”

 Slade removes his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty. “Clean up the mess you made,” he orders, pressing wet fingers against your lips. You open your mouth letting them in. You slide your eyes shut and swirl your tongue around them. You bob your head taking them in deep. You moan, rocking your hips against his still hard cock, letting yourself imagine what it would be like to take him into your mouth. Your enthusiasm earns you a hiss from Slade. You smile as you continue to suck on his fingers and rock your body, the fire in the pit of your stomach reigniting. You flutter your eyes open. In the mirror, you see Slade, brow raised and mouth wrangled into a shape of wry amusement. “See, I knew you were a good girl,” he says voice strained. You grind your ass into him as you moan around his fingers. You gasp when a rough hand grasps your breast, nipple pinched between calloused fingers. 

 “Are you that hungry for my cock, kitten?” he asks, removing his fingers from your lips. Both your lips and his fingers glisten with your saliva. You nod not trusting your voice to be steady. He thankfully accepts it.  

 “Well, have at it,” he says, hands repositioning themselves on the back of the couch easing into a more relaxed position and looking as smug as humanly possible. He really is getting his money’s worth out of this. You shift your body making sure you brush up against his erect member as you did so. He looks almost pained when you finally face him. You drag your hands up and down his shirt, his muscles barely hidden by the soft silky material. You lick your lips, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. You slide yourself down his body, hands kneading and worshipping every stretch of muscle they come across. Fuck, they feel so good to your touch. 

 Getting to your knees, you rest your cheek against his knee. You let mischief shape your features. He quirks his brow at you, tilting his strong jaw urging you to move on. You massage his thighs as you pull yourself up. You undo his belt tossing it to the side. You pinch the zipper of his pants between your teeth and pull it down, grinning as you do it. Slade lifts his hips a bit to help you ease his pants and boxers down. Your mouth waters visibly when his cock springs free in all its glory. You gulp audibly as you figure the logistics of fitting all of it into your mouth. 

 “Take your time, Kitten. I’ve requested you for the whole night. We have time.” He drawls, smug. You roll your eyes at him finally deciding that head-on was the only way to tackle this. You lick a strip up his member paying special attention to the large vein running down the middle. You flick your eyes up to him, seeing his muscles tense. You grasp the base of his cock tight in your hand, kissing the tip and giving the slit a long, languid lick. The taste of precum wakes your taste buds. You hum, sucking lightly at the head, your hand twisting up and down his cock. His jaw tightens, the strain of keeping his hips still tightening the muscles of his thighs. 

 You spread your legs wide as you sink your head down taking him in and giving him a good view of your wet pussy. You take him in as far as you can, gagging when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The corners of your eyes sting with tears. You still yourself, letting your throat relax around him. You pull yourself back up. Your plush lips massage his length as you go and your warm hand not trailing far behind. You keep your mouth on the head of his cock before sinking back down. His sheer girth is sure to make your jaw ache but you couldn’t make yourself care, not when you’re growing wetter the more you worship his cock. Slade for his part looked like he was gonna tear the couch apart every time you sank down to take is cock on, the fluttering walls of your throat driving him up the wall. The soft music of the room was now barely audible against the mingling sounds of your moans. Slade’s unrestrained voice was dripped with whiskey and sin. 

 His cock twitches in your throat and it’s the only warning you get before cum splashes against the back of your throat and fills your mouth. You choke but when your eyes meet his, the muscles of your throat work automatically to swallow his load. The movement followed closely by his eye. You pull back, light-headed. He grabs your chin, tilting it up to inspect your mouth. He hums satisfied.  “Kitten, that mouth of yours is definitely worth more than the price of admission.” He says brushing a thumb against your bottom lip as you pant. 

 A familiar ache in your core returns when your eyes land on Slade’s still hardened cock.  

 “Of course, a little cockslut like you wouldn’t be satisfied ‘til you’ve been filled,” he chuckles pulling you into his lap so that you’re facing the mirror, your dripping pussy hovering over his saliva covered cock. The throbbing head teasing against your sensitive folds. He kisses your shoulder, his teeth pinching your skin leaving another red bruise. You whine as he guides your hips, moving them to ever so slightly brush your core against his cock. 

 “Sir, please. I need you. I- I need you to fuck me,” you beg, hands tangling in his hair and eyes watching his member in pained hunger. You sound so needy but you also needed him inside you filling you up. 

 Slade hums in your ear approvingly. He pinches your ear lobe between his teeth, making you keen. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” That was the only warning you got before his hands guide your hips down onto his engorged cock. Your walls flutter with every inch, stretching you with every inch. A hand cups your breast while he continues to guide you down onto his cock. Rough calloused fingers knead your breast as he whispers compliments into your skin in between kisses. The cacophony of sensations is almost too much for you. 

 “Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.” You roll your hips, urging him to quicken his maddeningly slow pace. He simply chuckles at your attempt as both his hands steady your hips. You almost cry in relief when he finally bottoms out. You pant savoring the burning stretch tearing at your insides. Pleasure and pain mingling in your sense.  

 Slade rests his chin against your shoulder, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “Kitten, I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, in a low commanding tone making you shiver and leaving no room for arguments. You grip on to his arms, nails digging into the meat of his muscle, to steady yourself. You lean forward to get yourself into a better angle. 

 Ah ah ah

 Breathy moans and the slap of skin against skin filled the air as you roll your hips against his. You watch yourself in the mirror, breasts bouncing, mouth hanging open, and tongue lolling out getting lost in the pleasure. The mixture of shadow and light highlighting and isolating the frantic need carving itself onto both of your faces. The coil in your stomach twists as your eyes meet his in the mirror. Icy blues trailing up and down your body possessively.   

 His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it gently as he trails kisses up your spine. Your hips stutter, your walls squeezing around his cock. “You like that?” he whispers into your ear, putting just the tiniest bit more pressure around your neck. You feel your walls flutter around him and he moans in your ear. His other hand squeezes at your hip, nails digging into your soft flesh.     

 With a growl, he snaps his hips against yours almost violent in its intensity. You let out a loud yelp. Slade jackhammers into you like a madman, pummeling your pussy. His tongue dragging against your sweat-covered skin.  “Cum with me, Kitten,” he grinds out, nipping at your ear. Your pussy clenches and unclenches around him trying to squeeze his cock, gripping him as if not wanting to let go of it. He bites a hickey into your neck and you feel the coil in your stomach burst. You feel a flood of warmth fill your aching core as Slade lets himself go. 

 He turns your body around to face him, careful not to separate you two. He pulls you into a deep kiss as both of you ride out your orgasms. 

 Your body slumps against Slade’s, head resting on his shoulder and chest pressing against his. Your breaths come out in puffs fanning against his neck. Slade presses a kiss to your forehead. You yawn and kiss his throat, his pulse hot against your lips. 

 “Satisfied?” he asks, pulling your wrist to his lips nipping and leaving marks on it. You wonder just how many marks he’s left on you and if he’s technically allowed to do that. It just seems bad for business. 

 “Yes, sir,” you answer, nuzzling into his shoulder. He chuckles, rubbing his large hands soothingly over your aching muscles. He holds you tenderly for a while, both of you basking in the afterglow.  

 Through thick lashes, you see Slade look at his watch. You whine when he starts to shift. Wrapping your arms around him, you press your body closer. You see his brow wrinkle and have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. Sucker. 

 Slade gives you another kiss as he reluctantly extricates himself from your warmth. You shiver at the motion. Your oversensitive walls flutter making him groan. You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he gently places you on the soft cushions of the couch. He places another kiss on your forehead then your shoulder then your wrist as he drapes his jacket over you. “Sorry, kitten, I have some business I need to take care of,” he says tucking himself back into his pants. “But if you feel like a repeat performance, feel free to come back,” he continues, fixing his shirt as he grins down at you. Your stomach flips despite how tired you feel. 

 You watch him walk away then stop. “Oh and I’ll be keeping these,” he teases, holding up your panties and tucking them back into his pocket. You try to sit up intent on throwing the entire bottle of whiskey at him but your limbs fail you, still feeling like jelly.

  The next time you open your eyes is when you feel someone patting your cheek lightly. 

 “March,” Anthony’s voice comes out in a haze. It takes a second for your mind to recognize the name as your alias. You take a deep breath trying to quell the panic from being woken up. 

 “What time is it?”

 “A quarter past one.”

 Good, you’ve only been asleep for an hour.  

 “Thanks.”

 “You’re pretty lucky. Looks like Mr. Wilson was feeling generous,” Anthony laughs, thumb pointing to the stack of cash by the whiskey. 

 That asshole. 

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

Thanks for reading! 

a/n: This will be a 3 part series because I am thirsty as hell. 

  Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

[maggiecheungs]

atots as a disability narrative

finally posting my mini essay about atots and disability one (1) hour before episode 4 airs. putting this under the cut because it’s long. cw for discussions of casual ableism, suicidal ideation, death, disability, mental health.

(note: throughout i refer to tian’s disability, which we obviously don’t know the details of; i mainly mean it as a catch-all term for the health difficulties he faces, unlike most abled people, which continue on even after his transplant)

after episode 1 i remarked on how i read tian’s story as a disability narrative, but i wanted to wait to get a bit more info before i expanded on that. after episode 3, i think i can take a bash at outlining the main things that struck me--but there’s so much more i could say about this topic, so feel free to ask for clarification. also i obviously haven’t watched episode 4 yet, so that might change things! and of course, tian is filthy rich so his experiences with the practicalities of disability are somewhat mitigated/different from most experiences of disability... but in an ableist society, there are obviously some basic similarities in the way disability is perceived and experienced. so far, here are some of the main themes that i’ve noticed in atots:

the space between wellness and unwellness

in our society, wellness is constructed as part of a binary. one is either well (perfectly fucntional, capable of working) or unwell (ill enough to be incapable of functioning in a ‘normal’ manner). the default state is, of course, wellness; people get ill sometimes, of course, but they return to that default. however, people with disabilities and long-term health conditions can’t do that--and in the society in which we live, there aren’t accomodations for this sort of existence. 

tian has spent the past few years living in the space between wellness and unwellness. it’s the space of hospital waiting rooms and people treating you like you’re fragile. it’s the space of always waiting for something to happen; waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the people around you to get tired of you. in tian’s case, waiting for death.

tian has spent the past years stuck in this liminal space: ostensibly well enough to live a fairly normal life, but not enough to do so properly. he--and everyone else around him--is just waiting, and it prevents him from forming any close emotional connections or long-term plans. even if he could forget about it for a while, others remind him through their behaviour and treatment of him. before his surgery, he isn’t allowed just exist on a day-to-day basis. his very existence is overshadowed by the threat of its end. 

being stifled by others

in episode one, we get a glimpse of the near-complete erosion of personal boundaries tian has undergone over the past few years. after his operation, his mother panics when he leaves the house; she and his father stifle his freedom. at the same time, their fixation on ‘keeping him safe and healthy’ prevents them from seeing what he actually needs on an emotional level, which can be just as dangerous.

tian doesn’t just have to deal with his own feelings; he has to deal with his mother’s anxieties about him. he has to act well to assuage her fears. (tbh, neither of them handled the situation in the best possible way but... there isn’t really ‘a best way’ for this sort of situation? it’s more just limiting collateral damage.) similarly, his father blames him (or appears to blame him) for the suffering his mother is going through. 

it turns into a thing where he feels as if he owes them wellness (or the appearance of it). he doesn’t feel like he can be vulnerable around them. he puts on a similarly blasé act with his friends, because he doesn’t want them to treat him the same way his parents do--like he’s made of glass. which leads to....

pushing himself beyond his limits

tian feels like he has something to prove. he wants to prove that he’s not a burden... which becomes the characterising theme of his stay in the village.

in going to stay at the village, tian’s managed to mostly escape the spectre of ‘unwellness’ that has haunted him for so long, as well as all the people who stifle him. now that he’s free, he wants to learn to stand on his own two feet; to prove it to himself and to everyone who doubted he could (his parents, phupha, etc.).

however, while this is great for him on one level, it’s not great on another. because in tian’s mind, his disability is equated with being a burden. (this is not unsurprising, given that we live in a hugely ableist society and given his own experiences with his parents.) now that he’s out of the stifling environment of his past, tian feels like asking for help or taking care of himself would be a concession of weakness/burdensome to those around him.

that means, when other people unthinkingly hold him to ableist standards which his body literally cannot accomodate, tian will push himself to the limit rather than admit that he ‘falls short’. this is something that could have grave--potentially fatal--consequences.

HOWEVER! this seems to be changing! he seems to be growing past his feeling that ‘disability = burden’. in episode 3, he voluntarily told kalae about his having to take medication, and actively equated taking care of oneself with maturity/strength (”kalae, i also take pills. grown-up men have no problem taking pills. do you want to be a child or a grown-up?”)

i’ll be interested to see how this progresses. hopefully when/if he discloses his condition to phupha, it will go some way towards helping him move past all the self-directed ableism he’s internalised. also it should stop phupha from inadvertently pushing him to exceed his limits. (i predict that one area of tension between them will be phupha’s worry about tian--if their relationship is to succeed, phupha needs to be aware and accomodating of tian’s needs without stifling him/treating him like he’s made of glass as his parents did)

survivor’s guilt

a lot of this might be unconscious, but... tian has, in his mind, done nothing with his life--unlike torfun. while tian was alive and being a burden on everyone around him, gambling his few remaining years away, torfun was being one of the best, kindest, most generous people in the world. inevitably, living in her house and interacting with her people, he compares himself to her at every turn. she could help the villagers where he cannot. she should be here, not him. her heart is wasted on him.

but this is changing! in the most recent episode (3) we can see him building bonds with the villagers on his own merits. in the first few episodes i was worried that tian’s journey would be represented as but a shadow of torfun’s, but he’s forging his own indivdiual journey. similarly, his relationship with phupha seems to be individual to him, rather than a copy of the relationhship with torfun (but i guess we’ll find out more in the next few episodes). 

suicidal ideation

as mentioned above, tian has spent his entire life waiting for death. now, that looming spectre has disappeared, but it’s still a part of his identity. for years, he’s shaped his sense of self around that fact: he is going to die, so it does not matter what he does or does not do (this post sums it up really well!) he’s reckless because why the fuck shouldn’t he be? even if he’s not necessarily actively suicidal, for a while he seems to be passively suicidal.

this is also starting to show signs of change--as he overcomes his survivor’s guilt, builds genuine connections with the people around him, and feels like he’s contributing to something bigger than himself.

which leads me to the overriding theme of the series: tian’s going to have to learn to love himself, disabilities and all. he’s starting to build himself back up in the village, but he can’t treat it only as an escape. at some point, he’s going to need to face all the things i’ve mentioned in this essay and work through them. hopefully phupha will be there to help him, but this isn’t a ‘love cures all ills’ situation. loving phupha won’t ‘fix’ him; tian needs to love himself.

but... honestly, i have faith. i was really cautious after watching the first episode, because i’ve seen so many shows handle disability badly. but atots has exceeded my expectations in every other way so far, and i am truly excited to see where it goes next <3

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 10

The tone of this recap is going to be the crackiest so far. The production quality plummets dramatically here, in a way which is as unintentionally hilarious as it is endearing. I have very little of import to say on events of this episode, and there is nothing much for me to hyper focus on, so a lot of this write-up are snark and bad jokes. Apologies in advance. I would not be getting annoyed at a show I did not care about. 

Day two of the Road Trip starts with Zhao Yunlan waking up with a splitting headache and his own jacket draped carefully over him. I choose to believe Shen Wei left it there. 

Zhao Yunlan wakes up - and discovers that Wang Zheng had slipped a sedative into the party’s water, effectively knocking them all out. He even discovers that she left her doll-body behind as a decoy; thankfully, it’s still Li Siqi and not the blow-up doll from the previous episode. 

With the daunting realisation that he’s been betrayed, Zhao Yunlan instantly spirals into hurt and anger, and this is the moment Shen Wei chooses to appear out to nowhere. He enters offering comfort, his entire focus on making Zhao Yunlan feel better by assuring the man that his subordinate is not one of the bad guys, but rather one of the self-sacrificing ones. How SID manages to function when it’s full of people with non-existent sense of self-preservation is beyond me. 

“Professor Shen, why are you okay?”

Zhu Hong narrows her eyes. Zhao Yunlan’s look is the one of vulnerability, not suspicion, almost as if he is silently asking to please not be betrayed by his newest partner.

“I didn’t drink the water she gave me.”

Another thing I would like to question here is the reasoning behind Shen Wei waiting until the morning with this. He knew that Wang Zheng was about to do something, since he refrained from drinking the water she offered. Everyone else being unconscious would be a perfect opportunity for him to go full Hei Pao Shi on her, or follow her quietly, or do literally anything but wait for the morning. 

“What is your purpose of coming here?” Shen Wei asks because he needs to know how much Zhao Yunlan knows. He does so with a perfect set of puppy eyes. 

We cut to Wang Zheng entering the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, and witness the absolute devastation of her hearing her love’s voice for the first time in a century, as he mistakes her for the enemy and calls her a rat.

I should say that while I’m not always on board with Li Siqi in this show, props to her for acting her heart out opposite a literal pillar. Her reunion with Sang Zan is incredibly touching; she really is wonderful here.

Flashback 1. The execution of Ge Lan. 

This method of execution seems so inefficient, I actually tried to find if it has any legs in history. As my research yielded exactly no results, I am guessing this is the producers showing hanging without actually showing hanging. They kind of accidentally made the whole affair infinitely worse. People are weaker than gravity, the angle offers no possibility of the neck being broken, so this would be a very slow, and very painful death. Yikes, is all I can say. 

Flashback 2. The montage. 

Sigh.

This imagery is so carelessly contemporary it’s killing me. I’m not saying it’s completely impossible for the heart shape to have been known to represent love in this fictional tribe on a fictional planet. I’m just saying it’s a boring shorthand for romance, made worse by the fact that so much of the show’s imagery is otherwise fairly intelligent. I am not angry, I’m just disappointed.

Wang Zheng and Sang Zan’s reunion triggers another earthquake, which is felt all the way back in the village, and shortly thereafter Zhu Jiu interrupts the couple, knocking Wang Zheng out. This - her being knocked unconscious - cuts to Zhao Yunlan wincing while clutching at his temples, which almost implies that he can feel it when his people are in danger. Which would be very cool if true. 

Shen Wei, in the meanwhile is remarkably good at keeping his Professor’s mask on the whole time, offering enough information without betraying his own knowledge or motives, but it is clear by now that Zhao Yunlan starts to see right through it. 

The chief sprints into action when Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng arrive, instructing the two to join him in investigation. Shen Wei opens his mouth to volunteer to come with, but ends up hesitating before saying anything out loud. 

Zhu Hong, too, makes a move to go after the three men, but is firmly instructed to say behind and look after Shen Wei. She proceeds to loudly explain that this is the wrong time and place to be fussing over this guy. 

Shen Wei looks like he has no idea what to do with this display of emotion. 

Zhao Yunaln whispers to Zhu Hong to watch the professor for him: which could equally be him manipulating the Yashou into staying, or a sinking realisation that Shen Wei will actually try to join them either way, or genuine desire to find out what the professor will do next. Or, indeed, a combination of the above. Zhu Hong will attack her task with conviction. 

Sure enough, Shen Wei finally voices his desire to go with the group. Zhu Hong reminds him that he has his own people to look after and instructs him to return to the house with barely contained resentment. 

Shen Wei will predictably try to sneak out very shortly afterwards, and will be, equally predictably, caught by Zhu Hong. Why the man who can teleport would not just teleport out of the house before proceeding on foot is anyone’s guess. 

“He surprisingly views you as a good friend”, says Zhu Hong when she stops Shen Wei from leaving. “You surely noticed it, right?”

He certainly did, although he will always have trouble realising that he is actually cared about in a way which is anything but casual. 

Shen Wei obediently sits down and follows Zhu Hong’s instructions as she attempts to hypnotise him. Those instructions are anything but subtle. 

“Professor Shen, look at the flame closely”.

Meanwhile, the other party has successfully deduced the location of the Hanga tribe cave/shrine, and heads there, only to find no visible entrance. Thankfully, gaining access to the mountain is not particularly hard for the party. Mostly because this part of the mountain is made of foam.

This is where I want to metaphorically pat Guardian on its non-existent head, cooing, “Oh, Guardian. Baby. What have you done.”

On the bright side, this is also where Guo Changcheng accidentally shocks Zhao Yunlan with the Fear Stick, and Chu Shuzhi literally gives him a thumbs up. Those two are a duo for the ages. 

Youchu appear to fight our heroes, and after the first wave is eliminated, Zhao Yunlan decides to go inside, leaving the other two fend them off near the entrance. Considering that the beasts are all hiding inside the cave, rushing in without backup seems incredibly ill advised. Zhao Yunlan instructs Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng to run away if the danger becomes too great. Which he must know surely that they would never do: his department does not leave people behind, and his subordinates will never abandon him. 

To no one’s surprise, the cave is crawling with Youchu. Zhao Yunlan goes on the offensive, kicking the feet out of the monster, but failing to incapacitate it. I am going to do my best to ignore how the scale of the beast fluctuates as it falls down, and focus on Bai Yu’s excellent reaction when his character realises that he is about to very much die.

Luckily for our protagonist, Hei Pao Shi sends a ward his way with a note, warning him of the danger ahead and ordering him to return. Zhao Yunlan makes no move to do as instructed and uses the upper hand he’s gained on the Youchu to get out his gun. Before he can fire however, he once more experiences the painful flashback of the devastation this gun carries, and freezes.

This is when Shen Wei shows up in person, jumping in front of the gun and gutting the beast.

The jumping in front of the gun part of the action is sweet, because it indicates, albeit indirectly, the absolute trust Shen Wei must have in Zhao Yunlan’s instincts, knowing that the man will not accidentally shoot him in the back. 

The gutting itself happens in reverse grip, with Shen Wei being easily within reach of the beast’s long stabby claws, and as such really questionable to me in terms of logic. I would have not minded it if he had been moving through the space in front of the beast, slicing it while passing through. That would be at least an indicator of both speed and dexterity enough to make me believe Shen Wei made a clever avoidance of the claws. But he doesn’t: he just materialises dead-on in front of the monster and the later just.. lets itself be killed. 

Let’s just say that maybe the beast is supposed to be deliberately slow here, and park the long essay in regards to the bladework until the next episode. 

“Chief Zhao, are you alright?”

Everything about Hei Pao Shi in this moment screams of Shen Wei-ness. Well, maybe not the sword. But the obvious concern, the tone of voice, the general air: it’s all Shen Wei. It’s remarkable that Zhao Yunlan does not see it. Or maybe, I suppose, he does, without even realising it. His cheeky grin suddenly appears; the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he goes into a very long-winded, almost flirtatious away about thanking Hei Pao Shi, teasing him for not always arriving on time. 

Unperturbed, Shen Wei chides Zhao Yunlan for not listening to his warning, and Zhao Yunlan defends himself in a very playful kind of manner, adding that he’s not leaving his people behind. To Shen Wei, this is to be expected, so instead of arguing he goes into a lot of detail on how the road ahead is dangerous, as if he is not really expecting Zhao Yunlan to accept help. 

He is wrong of course: proud though he may be, Chief Zhao knows when he is outgunned and outnumbered, and only grins, happy for the Envoy to join him on his mission. 

Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan exploring the cave is interspersed with pretty damn harrowing scenes of Zhu Jiu torturing Wang Zheng as her trapped lover screams for mercy. It’s a lot; in fact it’s so much even the cave ghosts attempt to intervene, because while they may be very much pro-murder, they are evidently anti-torture. 

As the two keep exploring, they bump into another three of the beasts, which Shen Wei slays in three slick moves. It’s actually pretty cool, despite slightly sketchy teleportation effects.

“Wow!”

(Apparently, this “wow” made Zhu Yilong corpse so much he nearly laughed his mask off. Which sounds adorable)

Shen Wei proceeds to inquire Zhao Yunlan about the gun, party to confirm that it is indeed the dark energy weapon he knows, and partly having noticed that the other man failed to fire it. I wonder how many times Zhao Yunlan froze in the past, considering how easily he once again slips into his mask of playful deflection, claiming that he never planned to fire the gun at all. It’s almost tragic how this person keeps feeling like he needs to prove his own capabilities over and over again. 

Interestingly enough, in this particular case Hei Pao Shi actually does own up to a weakness. It’s calculated: he knows this is something Zhao Yunlan must already be aware of, but still, “full disclosure” is not something Shen Wei usually does when it comes to his own capacities. 

What he admits to, on the other hand, does not seem very consistent with the rest of the show. He says that he can only use half of his power above ground, which - okay. But he also states that he can’t spend a lot of time here, and I am a little bit… confused? He lives above ground. He spends absolute majority of his time here. I really don’t want to think of this as a writing inconsistency, so please let me know what I have missed; I’ll appreciate it. 

Hearing the admission, Zhao Yunlan grows serious for once, asking which they they should be going next. Shen Wei barely smothers a smug smirk seconds before he scries the surroundings with unbelievable panache.

Show off

Unfortunately, his search does not yield any result, as whatever readings he is getting are muddled by the Hallow. Luckily for them, and to Shen Wei’s great dismay, Zhao Yunlan has the Dial on him which he is uses as a compass. 

Shen Wei’s wordless reaction conveys a million questions from “what the hell?” to “are you completely stupid?”

Instead of asking any of those things, he settles for a more neutral “I’ve told you not to use the Hallows.”

“You are very much like a friend of mine”, remarks Zhao Yunlan. 

Which is, incidentally, also the title of this episode. 

Even behind the mask it’s clear to see Shen Wei’s blind panic as he realises he may have just blown his cover sky high. Fortunately, Zhao Yunlan reads the reaction as bashfulness rather than existential despair, and laughs it off. 

Now that they know which way to go, they finally make it to the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, which now has Wang Zheng tied to it. 

This show sure does like tying their characters to totems containing souls of people significant to them, huh?

In all seriousness though, as parallels go, this one is… uh… unparalleled. 

(I am so very sorry.)

Zhao Yunlan makes a move towards his trapped subordinate, but Hei Pao Shi, again in a way which is extremely Shen Wei-like, grabs at his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

Zhao Yunlan obediently halts, and calls Zhu Jiu out, correctly guessing that the Undergrounder lured them here deliberately. Shen Wei, on the other hand, relays in a hushed tone information what he had observed so far: namely, that the Hallow stored here is the Dire Awl, and that something is incredibly fishy about Wang Zheng.

As he does so, he is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s lips. It is neither the time, nor the place, but hey, I’m not complaining.

They have a brief discussion about the next moves, in which Shen Wei just says he would like to try something, and Zhao Yunlan nods, letting him do it without asking for any details. 

Flashback 3: the Backstory. 

We hear the full tragic tale of Ge Lan and Sang Zan: how they met, representatives of the warring sides of the conflict, two people from two different worlds; how their love did not stop the awful bloodshed; how it could not be enough to overpower the politics; how it lead to Ge Lan’s death, and, finally, how Sang Zan could not bring her back to him. They hear how the man changed once he lost the only person he cared about. 

Zhao Yunlan is visibly moved by this story, recognising echoes of it in himself. 

“The most basic dignity of a man is to ensure that the person in his heart stays safe. If the person I love gets destroyed in my own hands ruined under the system I established myself, it’s very likely I’ll hate these people more than I hated the former tribe leader.”

How much did he harden after his mother was taken away from him? How much of his initial hatred of all those from the Underground stems from that day? And, of course, how much will it break him when he will not be gifted this dignity in his own future? 

Shen Wei is near vibrating with how much his very soul resonates with the tale he has just heard. He, who has met someone from the other world, who was lost that person, is visibly weighed down by his own memories.

“That’s right. Even if they’re cut into a myriad of pieces, the hatred would be hard to dissolve.”

Zhao Yunlan stares at the other man, astounded, wondering what hardships and losses the Envoy endured in his long and eventful life, as the episode draws to a close.

And I am left here trying to soothe my aching heart, bruised once more by this show’s relentless fatalism. 

Next up, episode 11: Oh Boy Do I Have Sword Opinions 

---

Notes. 

Look. It’s been a long week okay. Besides, I am basically marathoning my way through Zhu Yilong’s entire filmography. 

The normal service in terms of analysis will hopefully resume next week. 

[amphxtrite]

draco malfoy x fem!reader

part one: Broken

Warning: Angst, swearing, spelling and grammar mistakes

Summary: You finally decide to confront Draco his absence and find out his secret. fluff at the end.

A/N: Sorry if it’s a bit slow at the beginning, but I really like how this one ended up.

enjoy <3

___________________________________

You sigh as you continue to flip through your charms textbook, you had a big test coming up and you wanted to make sure you did well. Taking a look out your room’s window you break into a grin watching the snowflakes fall from the sky, you try your best to resist the urge to run into the snow, turning back to the textbook in front of you as a distraction, but when you kept reading the same line over, and over again, you give in and start to pull on your winter jacket, boots and a warm hat. Smiling to yourself, you hurried out of your common room door and ran through the halls until you finally felt the cool wind on your face.

Walking towards your favourite spot by black lake, you take in the gorgeous scenery. The trees in the forests were all ridden with bits of snow and icicles hanging down the branches, the lake had not yet frozen over but the snow and greenery around it made it seem like a muggle Christmas card, there were also little first years running around having a snowball fight, laughing happily. Flopping down on your back into the fluffy snow once reaching your destination, you enjoy the feeling of the cool snowflakes falling onto your warm cheeks. As you continue to lay in the winter wonderland your mind thinks back to the winters you and your family would stay at your cabin up north, your mother would always build large snow figures with magic, as you and your father always stared in awe at them. Since your father was a muggle, you also picked up on their traditions too, baking little cookies being your favourite. As your mind seems to perk up at all the happy memories, you replay a certain one in your head, the day Draco confessed his feelings for you in your fourth year.

“C’mon Dray, it’s just a little snow please.” you practically begged, giving your best puppy eyes to the grey eyed slytherin in front of you. “y/n you know I can't say no when you give me those eyes.” Draco sighs exasperated. “ so it’s a yes then?” you raise your eyebrow hopefully, Draco seems to debate this in his head before silently agreeing. You squeal with excitement telling him to get dressed in something warm before meeting by Black lake, before kissing his cheek and running off. Draco has to splash cold water onto his face to get rid of the blush. When you arrive outside you see the handsome blonde leaning against a tree, smiling as you got closer to him. “So, what did you have planned?” Draco asks, wrapping one arm around your shoulder. For the rest of that day you spent your time showing Draco all the different ways to enjoy the snow. You made snow angels with him, showed him how to build a snowman, (which he found rather ridiculous, but didn’t complain when he saw the look of pure joy in your face) had a snowball fight with him, and just sat in each other's embrace watching the snow fall. It had become slightly dark by then and you were still wrapped in Draco’s arms, he looked away for a second from the falling snow and his eyes fell to you, and you took his breath away. Your h/c was a little messy, but still framed your face perfectly, you had a faint pink blush on your skin and your nose was bright pink. You looked so perfect there in his arms and he knew he was a goner. “H-hey, y/n?” He started, trying to build up his courage. “What’s up Dray?” you ask cluelessly. He looked deep into your eyes and got lost in your e/c orbs, his confidence dwindling, he decided to just get it out. “I...I fancy you y/n. I have for a while, you’re so beautiful, kind and so smart. I just wanted to let you know.” He confessed, turning away bashfully. When you didn't respond he grew scared, did you not feel the same? He was about to apologize when he felt you lean towards him and close the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a short chasté kiss, “I fancy you too Draco, have since our first potions class together when you asked for my help on the essay.” you say truthfully. Draco’s mouth drops open, but it is soon replaced by a huge grin as he leans forwards and captures your lips in a kiss again, filled with snow, lipgloss and feelings coming out. You spent the rest of the night in the slytherin common room with hot chocolate, blankets and cuddles by the fire.

You bring your hands to your face and rub the tiredness out of your eyes, slowly drifting from the memory and back into reality.

Another month had passed since Draco broke up with you, you’d gone two and a half months without speaking or seeing the man you love. It hurt really bad that Draco didn’t even look at you anymore, and it confused you to no end.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a loud voice. “ I’m telling you two! Draco’s working for Voldemort!” You stiffen at these words, what the hell were they talking about? “Oh shut your trap Harry! You’ve been going on about this for days! I get you don’t like Malfoy, but this is getting out of hand!” That was Hermione’s voice, why did Harry think Draco would be working with Voldemort, that’s impossible… You keep still and continue to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Don’t you find it suspicious how much Malfoy has been avoiding us? What if he’s planning something?” Harry explains. “Forget it Harry, you know that prat’s been ignoring us because we’re friends with y/n” you could almost feel Hermione’s eye roll from here. “She’s got a point Harry…” Ron agrees. Harry seems at a slight loss of words and you choose then to take your leave, pulling your hood over your head to avoid being noticed and shaking your head at the golden trio’s antics.

Heading back to your common room you suddenly feel a slight shiver running down your spine, finally taking notice that the coat you were wearing was now very wet. Sighing, you shrug it off and quickly rush to the y/h common room to drop off your coat and change out of the cold clothing, swapping out your soaked outfit for warm sweatpants and casual shirt, running a brush through your hair before heading back to the great hall for something warm to eat. Taking your usual spot at the y/h table you start to sip on a mug of warm tea, letting the warm creamy taste of the milk and the sugary sweetness consume your body. You take a couple bites of shepard’s pie, you weren’t hungry, but you knew Hermione would be fretting over you if you dared to skip one meal, sometimes you wondered if Mrs. Weasley was rubbing off on her. Poking at your unfinished pie, you take a glance up to see if any of your friends are around, scanning the long tables around you, hoping to find a familiar face among the sea of people. While your eyes scan down the slytherin table, your eyes stop wandering and you’re met with those piercing orbs you missed so much. You felt your heart skip a beat and you tried to manage a small smile at him, but as your lips tug up Draco abruptly stands up and quickly exits the hall. You felt your heart drop, so many thoughts consumed your head, so many questions, insecurities and doubts, but you snap back to your senses and immediately storm out after him.

You had had enough, you could understand if he didn’t want to speak with you, but this was getting infuriating! What had you done so wrong that made Draco dash out of the hall after just making eye contact with you! You tail him from a distance, walking down several hallways and corridors, pushing past people until there weren’t any students around at all anymore. To stay hidden you’d hide in an alcove for a bit until you were sure Draco hadn’t sensed he was being followed. You continue down the last hall seeing a distinct flash of white enter a deserted boys washroom, storming in a minute later, you were about to raise your voice, but what you saw broke your heart all over again.

Draco was hunched over a sink his head drooped between his shoulders, his eyes were red and glassy, his hair was a mess and from up close you could see his sick face and very prominent bags under his eyes. You hid behind a pillar in the large room, unable to find your voice looking at Draco’s vulnerable form. As Draco straightened up a bit you could understand why he chose to come to such a deserted area, you heard him mutter muffliato in a small voice and a second later he began to cry. Tears filled with sadness and agony flowed free down his face, and strangled cries came from his mouth. He started hitting the edge of the sink with his fists, but Draco seemed numb to the pain, you could swear you heard a crack, but you were unsure if it was Draco’s hand or the sink he was beating. His sobs turned to screams with one word coming out like a mantra. “Why?” You began to walk slowly towards him, but the screams didn’t stop, he had still failed to notice your entry. “Why did this have to happen to me?! I don’t want this! I can’t be without her!” he screamed before you heard him whimper into his sleeve, tears began to form in your own eyes and you pushed back your nervousness, rushing towards him. “Draco!” you finally call to him and pull him towards you, hoping to hold him in your embrace. He stiffens and flinches away from you, a look of terror on his face. Brushing off the feeling of hurt as you step closer to him, you begin to speak, “Draco you don’t have to avoid me, please, tell me what’s going on! I’m sure I can help you.” you try to reason with him. “ y/n. You need to leave. Get out of my sight. Now!” You could tell he was trying to be cruel, but the breaks in his voice gave him away, you began to feel your own tears stream down your face. “No Draco, please don’t push me away, I’m here for you no matter what, you know I care about you.” You take another step closer to him as he takes a step back. Tears reemerge from his eyes and you reach out and wipe them away with your thumb, ignoring his tense features. “Please leave y/n, leave me, I don't want you to get hurt.” he whispers, removing his left arm from behind his back. “Dray, what on Earth are talking abou-” your words catch in your throat as you look down at Draco’s left arm, in dark ink that seemed to stare into the pits of your soul was a skull and snake tattoo. The Dark Mark. “Oh Draco…” you say taking his forearm into your hands. He lets you. “Go on y/n, run away, scream, tell everyone!” Draco’s soft voice raises into a yell, and as you look into the eyes you fell in love with, you can see the broken man inside him. “Draco-” he cuts you off. “What don't you understand y/n, I have the fucking dark mark on my arm! I’m helping a madman kill innocent people, I’m a bloody monster!” He’s sobbing now, and has fallen to his knees. You fall down with him and search his face. You search for any sign of dishonesty, any sign of hate, rage or evil, you’re unsuccessful. There is no sign of a monster. You only see a boy, a scared and innocent boy who doesn’t want or deserve the pain he is going through. You see Draco, the man you fell in love with and will love forever. You bring his wrist to your lips and kiss the ink on his arm. This shocks him and his mouth falls open, just like when you told him you also fancied him that winter 2 years ago, you smile at him. “Draco, this mark doesn’t define you, from what I’m hearing, you don’t want to hurt anyone or stand with Voldemort, you said it yourself you don’t want this, and if you were forced into this, I don’t care, Draco I love you, you, a tattoo doesn't change that if you don’t agree with the beliefs that come with it. It doesn’t have to change who you are.” you spill out truthfully. You reach out and hold his face in your palms and staring into his beautiful eyes, this time he doesn’t pull back.

“Y/n-” he stutters out. “Yes, my love?” you respond. He pulls you into him, wrapping you in a tight embrace and burying his face into your neck. “Thank you, thank you so much.” He murmurs against you neck. You start to feel tears running down his cheeks again, this time it’s not sad or angry tears, but happy and grateful ones. You return his embrace, rubbing his back soothingly and drawing patterns in his shirt. This beautiful boy has cried too many tears in his life and didn’t deserve an ounce of the pain and sadness he’s had to go through, you know he needs to get it out though, so you sit there in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into his ears and reassuring him you were never going to leave his side, he began to let apologies fall from his lips. whispering that it was all his fault and he was being stupid. You shut him up with a long passionate kiss, hoping your point was getting across. “Draco, you weren’t being stupid, you were trying to protect me, and I’m so grateful for that, I just wish you’d know you didn’t have to break up with me to protect me, we can work together.” you murmur against his lips with a smile. You feel him nod before he presses his lips to yours again and seals a wordless promise. A promise to stay, to fight, and to protect you from your side until his dying breath. You were his reason to stay strong and push through hard times, you were his hope that everything would turn up alright, you were a light in the dead of night guiding him out of dark times. With that kiss he sealed a wordless promise, a wordless promise of love.

@kitty7864 @lord-byron

[luna-tiel]

What Entrapdak Means to Me

On the eve of Entrapdak Positivity Month, I thought it was as good a time as any to share my rambling thoughts on a ship that’s affected me in a way I didn’t think was possible. 

Entrapdak is the first ship I have ever been invested in. It’s such a new experience for me that it’s taken me the last few months to wrap my head around the whole thing. I may relate to the characters in a show, but when they form romantic attachments I view it with a degree of passive distance. I don’t understand what it’s like to have those sorts of feelings for someone (I am aromantic and ace as a brick), and, well, I’m honestly not curious enough to give the subject a thorough study. My mind tends to fixate on other things. 

What does this have to do with Entrapdak, you ask? Long story short for people who don’t want to read my meandering essay -- I relate a lot to these characters, and the way they bonded together struck a deep chord in me that I can’t ignore. 

Let’s start with the characters. I knew going in that Entrapta was neurodivergent-coded, but I took it with a grain of salt. When I actually watched the show, however, I found myself relating to her so deeply it shocked me. Never have I felt such a kinship with a fictional character! We don’t share every trait, but it was still like seeing my brain put to life on screen. I related to her enthusiasm over her special interests, her struggles to fit in, her desire to make friends who accept and understand her for who she is. 

The fact Entrapta is completely herself is something I love about her. Over the years of growing up undiagnosed, I developed a lot of masking strategies. Human psychology is one of my special interests, and even with all that accumulated knowledge, masking isn’t easy. It’s extremely mentally taxing. Masking can certainly look easy -- I can, when I have the drive and energy, “pass” as neurotypical, and only people who know me extremely well can tell I’m dying inside. All that effort is taken for granted by a lot of NTs because that’s how people are “supposed to” act, and surely I can “do the bare minimum.” The accumulated stress of near constant masking has led me to the darkest moments I’ve had in my life.

Entrapta’s struggle with leaving Beast Island hit me hard. It threw me back to a time when my feelings of isolation and worthlessness got so bad that I lost the energy to do anything, even the creative pursuits that were the obsession of my life. I retreated so deeply into my inner world that I hardly interacted with anyone. That total apathy shocked my family into getting me professional help, which gave me my autism diagnosis, the coping skills to move forward, and a good start on the road to self-acceptance. It also opened a channel between my family and I, allowing me to feel heard and understood. (An important side note on mental health: if you or someone you love needs professional help, please seek it! Sometimes you have to try out several therapists -- it took me three to find a good fit -- but you are worth it!)

It took me longer to realize, but I also relate to Hordak in some ways. Mercifully I was not raised in an extremist cult environment. However, I know what it’s like to feel defective next to a sibling that seems perfect. I was constantly being compared to my younger brother, and in all areas but art, he was superior. He was smart, athletic, and above all, he fit in with everyone. I didn’t hate him for this -- I hated myself. Trying to measure up to his standard is what caused me to develop such strong masking strategies. Underneath it all, I felt the despair of knowing my peers would reject me as soon as the mask cracked. I also live with chronic joint pain, starting at around age seven. The jury is still out on what’s causing that (the worst of it was due to a previously unknown food allergy, but the pain still comes and goes, even though it’s a lot more manageable than it used to be). This cocktail of pain, stress, and sensory issues I had to deal with gave me a very short fuse at times. 

As an aside, just because I sympathize with Hordak does not mean I am excusing his actions. He is still going to have to face the consequences of his choices, and work to adjust to life post-Prime. The series end gave him a new beginning, the opportunity to be redeemed, and I prefer this to a rushed redemption arc. 

What I love most about Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship is how they accept each other as they are. Hordak gives Entrapta near free reign of his sanctum, he listens to her when she talks, and he respects her opinions. Even when he pushes her away, he still considers the logic of what she tells him, and sometimes ends up doing things her way despite his initial instincts. This is something I do in my own life; I am easily overwhelmed by new information, so my initial response to an idea/activity is almost always a firm (and sometimes rude) “no,” until I have time to properly process and think about it. Hordak is the first person in Entrapta’s life that truly listens to her. He still has things he needs to work on, but it’s a lot better than how most of the princesses are with Entrapta. The Alliance treats her as someone to be managed -- she is useful, but unreliable. Hordak, in contrast, trusts her to get things done in her own way. 

On the other side, Entrapta is the first person in Hordak’s life to accept him without judgment. Hordak spends so much of his energy putting up a front of strength and intimidation, and Entrapta cuts right through that. She’s not frightened by his appearance, and even his outbursts have little effect on her until the two of them start to bond. Entrapta doesn’t come into their interactions with any preconceived ideas of what Hordak is like, or more importantly, what he should be like. This lack of expectation leaves her completely open to accepting whatever Hordak does and says, and it also relieves Hordak of the burden of needing to put on a front around her. When Entrapta sees him at his most vulnerable, she reaches out to him with compassion, something he has never felt before. Entrapta also does this in a way that doesn’t belittle Hordak. His imperfections are not something to pity, they are a valuable part of who he is. 

I loved watching their friendship develop. Entrapta and Hordak’s shared time together evolved slowly into a bond that gave each of them a sense of belonging they had never experienced before with anyone else. It gave me the hope that, despite what an oddball mess I am, perhaps I could find someone who understands me too. 

When a romance subplot inserts itself into a story, I tend to gloss over and ignore it (if I pick up on it at all). I’m even less interested in sex. Way back when I was first getting into fandom I was so excited to go online and meet fellow fans of the books and shows I liked, only to discover the spaces being dominated by arguments over character pairings. I was baffled. This is what people are most interested in? Oh well… back to the hermit cave I go! 

I was late to the party with SPoP. I’d watched a few episodes, but the show didn’t really hook me. This was partially because all I ever heard people talk about online was Catradora, and if that was the main appeal of the show, I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it (sorry Catradora shippers, romance is not going to entice me to watch a show, even if it’s rep). Quarantine was the ultimate cause for me embracing my curiosity and diving headfirst into SPoP, binging the entire thing a few months before the release of season 5.

I vaguely knew about Entrapdak as a ship going into the show, and I admit, had I not been primed for it, I probably would have missed the romantic potential entirely. In no way did I expect to become invested. I was immediately intrigued by their dynamic, and as they got closer, I found myself thinking “oh, I see why people ship these two.” I didn’t understand this realization until months later. I was relating to the characters, and for the first time in my life, I was relating to their relationship.

I headcanon Entrapta and Hordak as an asexual couple. I’ll elaborate on this at a later time (asexuality is a spectrum with a lot of nuance, and this post is plenty long already), but at the core of it, I find joy in imagining these characters in a loving platonic relationship, something I hope to find myself one day. I hope this love comes across in my artwork and in my fanfictions <3

To those of you that read this far, wow, you must be patient! Have an imaginary cookie! I hope this ramble has provided a decent picture for why I, as an aro ace on the autism spectrum, have come to cherish Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship. It’s my first and only OTP… I’m still in shock thinking about that… I guess we’ll see where things go from here!

Take care of yourselves out there!

[sunflowers-insherwood]

Allan A Dale Analysis - 2x06

Investigating Allan A Dale’s Character Through For England...!

2x06 of BBC Robin Hood arguably presents some of the most dynamic character relationships and power plays of the entire series, and it was for this reason I came away from rewatching it a few nights ago and instantly began to scribble notes. Originally I aimed to write about the wider relationships within the episode – Guy and Marian’s as well as Guy and the Sheriff’s are particularly interesting here – but alas, I just couldn’t stop myself from writing about my favourite character Allan A Dale, who also goes through one of the climaxes of his general progression and betrayal arc in this episode. As a fan favourite, Allan is often seen throughout the fandom as the victim of a series of worsening situations, and while this is a credible interpretation, it often forgets to acknowledge Allan’s agency and his decisions to go ahead with actions that slow the greater good. Although I agree that Allan’s betrayal and further descent is largely worsened by the actions of those around him, in this essay I hope to restore his accountability and show how he initiates several violent acts, all while victimising himself by placing the blame on others. I will walk through the episode chronologically, analysing his motives, actions, and their consequences, trying to establish a fair view of Allan’s reasoning in this episode, as I examine not just his actions, but the decisions he made in order to complete them. (Wordcount: 3.2k)

This can be read alone, but works best when read after my 2x05 confrontation analysis.

This episode is the first time we see Allan operating fully outside of the gang he’s been a part of for the rest of the series. At the end of 2x05, Robin finds out Allan is the spy who has been working for Gisborne, and they truly clash for the first time. In 2x06, his first scene occurs right at the beginning, as we see Allan trek back into the forest with the hood of his cloak up to avoid being seen by the gang, in order to gather the money from his stash. However, he arrives only to find the gang have found his money, as they proceed to yell at him for being a traitor and keep his stash. The gang’s pain here is understandable; Allan hasn’t been able to explain that the catalyst for his betrayal was physical and emotional torture, (he told Robin but Robin dismissed this and likely hasn’t told the gang) so they think he was more willing to work for Gisborne than he actually was. The pain of the wound is fresh, him having been told to leave by Robin what can only be assumed to be a day or so before. To them, they are taking his ‘blood money’ to help the poor. However, Allan now has very little to survive on. He essentially only has the clothes on his back, as he can’t go back to camp to collect his belongings, and so only has what he left with. His worse possible situation has become his reality overnight: he has gone from having both friends and money to neither. I imagine when the reality of his spying first hit him, he calmed himself from the worry of being thrown out of the gang with the promise of money; he’d have no friends but a means to survive (which is what he wanted the money for in the first place, he wanted financial security), yet now he has neither. However, he still repeatedly tries to reach out to the rest of the gang, saying he never wanted this to happen, but is interrupted by the black knight carriage that drives between them and he runs away, likely to avoid being caught by the Sheriff’s men but also to re-evaluate his situation, as he’s now probably feeling especially vulnerable. In his eyes, this is another situation where Robin or the gang could have given him a second chance but haven’t. (Sidenote, he and the gang are literally divided by the Sheriff’s men, if that ain’t symbolism I don’t know what is).

So now, feeling completely abandoned by the rest of the gang, who have not just been passive in their dislike but have actively taken his only money, he goes to the only person he has left – Guy. Yes, he could’ve left Nottingham and begun a new life, but this would have been extremely difficult, especially keeping in mind that Robin saved Allan from losing a hand when he was poaching to survive after his brother stole everything from him in a similar situation before. Basically, surviving alone is hard, and he knows this, so his quickest and easiest option is to go to the one contact he has who won’t reject him instantly, which is Guy. By the end of the episode, I argue that Allan has more spiteful motivations, but I believe he initially goes to Guy out of necessity, rather than as an act of vengeance against the gang by siding with the enemy.

And luckily for him, Guy agrees to take him on! Some more stuff happens but as I can’t remember it, I’m not going to deem it that important. The next time we properly see him is when he walks into the wrong place at the wrong time, and the Sheriff instantly calls for him to be hanged. We see him arrested, although never in the cells, however you can just imagine the anguish he’s going through there. I always view Allan as at least partially traumatised from his almost-hanging in 1x01, and now he’s been told he’s going to be hung again and is left to wait in a cell, knowing how painful a death it’s going to be, and without any hope of rescue. So now, on top of his exhaustion from sleeping rough for a night or two, having to completely adapt to a new environment and knowing his friends all hate and reject him without him being able to explain his actions, he’s also grappling with imminent death through his worst fear – he’s having what could be described as a really, really terrible time. Even Guy tells the guards to ‘take him away’, so he is essentially abandoned by everyone he knows. He is completely cornered with no way out.

Let’s expand our view for a minute and just think about Allan as a person. I love a good personality test, and my personal favourite is the Enneagram. The Enneagram categorises personalities into nine types, with a person’s basic desire and basic fear at the crux of this designation. I believe Allan to be a Type 7 with a 6 wing (7w6), which essentially means his biggest fears are of being deprived and in pain, and of being without security. If we go back to the episode, taking into account everything he’s just had to consider – a painful and imminent death, the loss of his friends, and loss of a shelter and money – and place that in the context of his worst fears – being deprived, in pain, without security - we see a man who has every single worst fear come true in the space of around 24 hours. And then, what if on top of this, we place him on a flimsy wooden plank on top of a vat of boiling liquid, pitted against the man who personifies why his life is now awful: we see a man who has lost everything, who is completely cornered, who has nowhere else to run, but an instinctual desire to survive. (Allan’s ideas of right and wrong aren’t as strong as the rest of the gang’s, and his desire to survive places these even further back on the priority list.)

Now, this doesn’t excuse what he does when he’s fighting Robin over that pit of boiling oil, but it does give an outline of just how emotionally wrecked he’s feeling. In that moment, it’s him versus Robin, him versus the man who is the reason why his life has gone to shit. I’m not saying that everything is Robin’s fault – while the inability of the others, especially Robin, to listen to Allan’s side of the story definitely accentuates his problems, he is still to blame for willingly feeding Guy information and the consequences of that – but to Allan, it is easier to blame everyone other than himself. In his head at this moment, he is the complete victim, as especially in the early moments of processing what is happening, it is easier to be angry at others rather than accept any of his own responsibility for what’s happening. So he’s angry at everyone in lieu of being angry at himself, and hence he takes the initial swing, initiating the fight despite Robin trying to stop him. (It was these moments in the fight which prompted me to write this essay, to investigate his reasoning, because before I viewed him as pretty much a complete victim, but here is an explicit example of how that is not true). Both Robin and Allan are being prodded by the guards to force them to fight, however, so I’m unsure how quickly he would take the first swing without their insistence.

They begin to fight, and I can’t remember all the ins and outs of their conversation as they fight but it’s mainly:

Allan: You should’ve given me a second chance.

Robin: When did you become so low?

Allan: When you started thinking you were better than everyone else.

Robin: Not better than everyone else, just you. Allan is now furious, as in his view, Robin has just completely backed him into a corner by forcing him out of the gang and taking his money, and is now lecturing him on morals, because Allan tried to find a way to survive despite this. (A difference in their priorities: Allan’s to survive, Robin’s to be good. Robin would rather die knowing he stayed true to his morals, but Allan would rather live). But the moment that is most interesting is when Robin is distracted, and Allan decides, completely of his own volition, to go for Robin with what should be a killing blow (Robin manages to twist out of the way last minute). But for all intents and purposes, Allan directly tries to kill Robin. He isn’t prompted by the guard’s stabbing at him, at the very least this isn’t shown, and he has the time while Robin is staring at Marian to properly consider what he’s about to do too. On screen, there is a wide shot of him getting ready to swing, which lasts long enough to see the action was, to some extent, mediated. This is the moment where you could lose faith in Allan as a good person, because he just tried to kill Robin in cold blood. There was no individual catalyst or bad influence (apart from the boiling vat of oil) like when he was previously pressured into betraying the gang, it’s entirely of his decision. Let’s break down the motives behind this action. He’s in the midst of the angriest he ever gets at the Robin and the gang, full of bitterness about his position, as well as in the heat of a life or death situation with the philosophy of ‘I’ve got nowhere else to go.’ In his eyes, he can either die right now, or live to survive another day and even gain the respect of Guy and the Sheriff, possibly guaranteeing him further work. That’s the first possible reasoning – he sees this more as a business opportunity to prove his loyalty to someone else and stay alive.  The other reasoning, of which his motive could be a mix of both or just one (I think it’s a mix), is that he’s genuinely so hurt and furious at Robin that in that moment he does just want to kill him. However, if he was motivated by such an emotion, it has to be interpreted as more of a spur of the moment decision as killing Robin would essentially completely seal his fate of never being able to get back together with the rest of the gang (which does become one of his largest desires by the end of season 2, so taking that into consideration, the moment he goes for Robin he’s likely not thinking of the consequences).

These moments as he’s fighting are so interesting to me, as so much of the time Allan is painted as a victim – which I realise I am kind of doing now – but it’s important to note just how much stuff he does of his own volition. I see these explanations as not excuses for his actions, but reasons, because he does decide to try to kill Robin, just as much as he decides to continue selling information to Guy after being tortured into agreeing. At the very least, he was completely out of rope, so it shows just how far he’s willing to go to protect himself when so much (or arguably so little) is on the line.

Straight after the moments where we see him at his most vicious and vengeful, however, he’s able to jump down from immediate danger, and while the wider fight between the merry men and the guards are happening, he sees John and instantly tries to reach out, saying a genuine thank you for helping save him. Despite being completely willing to kill Robin, he is easily able to thank and attempt to reconcile with John. This might be part of an ‘eye for an eye’ philosophy, as Robin pushed him away from the gang multiple times, but John has done nothing to directly hurt him. The only person Allan has anything against is Robin, the gang are collateral damage in this conflict between the two of them, and it just so happened to be Robin forced to fight him. It would be interesting to see his reaction to having to fight any other member of the gang, as I think he would act very differently – much more defensive than offensive. It also could be because Robin is the person Allan envies the most even when they are friends. He makes a dig of this nature at Robin when talking to him after he’s revealed as the spy in 2x05 (if you can’t defend yourself, attack, could be the ideology he’s using there), likely due to the Ron-Weasley-style insecurity of ‘you’re always in the sun and I’m always in the shade’. This is the same insecurity that Guy preys on when torturing him to convince him to sell him information, and it gets through to Allan, so it obviously runs deep. Robin is the person he has the most internal and external conflict with. When talking to John, it isn’t instant life or death, so he is calmer, and the only reason Allan even came close to killing Robin was due to the fact they were both captured and made to fight. If this hadn’t happened, I imagine Allan would’ve just stayed out the gang’s way until he found a way to get back to them. So he tries to reconnect with John, as he is a friend whom he holds nothing against, to show his gratitude and perhaps find some sympathy or allyship in the gang. All he gets is a punch in the face, though, which is kinda sad. However, this is, when considering John’s vantage point of the situation – Allan just betrayed the gang and tried to kill Robin – completely fair.

After the fight is over, the rest of the gang have made a safe getaway and Guy and the Sheriff are arguing over what to do next. The camera cuts to Allan nursing his bruised jaw from where John punched him, looking not only physically hurt, but pretty emotionally ruined too. When Guy orders him to move, he moves so slowly that it’s definitely more than just pain, but also exhaustion and him processing the full extent of what he just did and what happened to him. He tried to kill Robin, he tried to reach out to John and got rejected, and now he’s going to have to work for Guy for the foreseeable future. He now knows what the gang think of him for joining Gisborne: they see it as a direct attack against them, rather than him trying to survive. He’s dealing with the worst parts of himself while having to accept that he’s truly hated by the rest of the lads, and not just Robin. The fight was the climax of his bitterness and anger, but I think from this moment, we see him begin to realise he wasn’t the victim, and regret and grieve his actions. Although he does go along with the Sheriff’s orders while at the castle, he is subdued about it, replying to Marian’s demands for an explanation for his worse actions with a quiet helplessness as he just ‘knows what side  [his] bread is buttered on’ (2x12). He doesn’t like what he’s doing, shown by his multiple attempts to help the lads while at the castle, but he knows he must do it to survive. His instincts of self-preservation are too strong, and I think this leads to his main internal conflict and possible self-hatred, as he battles between doing what he can to live, and doing what is right. He has a lot of time for self-reflection at the castle, as he comes to term with what he has done, is doing, and must do in the future.

We don’t see anything else from Allan in this episode, but most notably, the camp dynamic is completely thrown after the fight – Much struggles with the silence as the eat at the end of the day, and as a team of five they are generally less mobile. They are able to fight well still, but in 2x06 after Robin writes his letter to Marian and says goodbye to them, about to sacrifice himself, they take a long time to read his letter and realise what he’s about to do. I think that, had Allan been there, he would’ve been able to read Robin better and prompted the others to read his letter more quickly. Here, his looser moral code and intuition would’ve proved highly helpful to the gang. On top of his, in his absence, Much gets even more of the bullying, as he worries more and the others increasingly tell him to ‘shut up’, leading to Much’s outburst in 2x12 which is only resolved by Allan coming back. Interesting, despite expecting Much to be the one to hold a grudge, he’s the first to welcome Allan back into the gang as they fight together, showing that he missed Allan’s presence much more than he let on, and felt the gang’s dynamic shift because of it. Much acts as the emotional compass for the gang, so to see him be so thrown by Allan’s leaving portrays how unstuck the others also feel.

All in all, Allan’s actions in 2x06 stem directly from his confrontation with Robin in 2x05, building on the insecurities and bitterness which Robin failed to acknowledge and address, instead diminishing his experience and taking away all options, until Allan’s only course was to leave the gang and join Guy – not yet in vengeance, but in the name of self-preservation. This backfires as he is almost hung by the Sheriff, left alone to face the threat of his worst fear. His fight with Robin later in the episode shows his anger and frustration come to a head, to the point where he, for a moment, intends to kill Robin. Allan’s inability to take any blame upon himself forces him to direct his anger onto others. Luckily for him, this passes quickly, and he tries to reconnect with other members of the gang but fails to do so. He is then forced to resign himself to working for Guy at the castle, on a side he ever intended to permanently be on. He is very much at fault for his actions, but the decisions made by Robin and Robin’s influence on other members of the gang (by not letting Allan tell them his side of the story) worsen his situation to lead to his permanent working for Gisborne. His actions at times seem spiteful, at others desperate, and the impact other people have on him directly motivate many of his decisions – but at his worst, he has the full agency to make terrible decisions of his own accord.

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed my take! I’ve loved writing this duo pf essays of character exploration, they’ve truly helped me to understand Allan’s reasoning further. If you’ve anything to add, please don’t hesitate to! Your response to my 2x05 analysis was so kind and I’m genuinely honoured to be part of such a wonderful fandom.

[neowinestainedress]

↬  title: There is a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light.  ↬  CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 |  ↬  pairings: jung jaehyun x kim doyoung ; jung jaehyun x dong sicheng ; lee taeyong x kim doyoung | side suh johnny x lee ten ↬  summary: After seven years in heaven with Doyoung, an unexpected divorce shakes Jaehyun’s life upside down and it seems impossible for him to move on. But Jaehyun finds out that past the curses and cries, there is happiness and forgiveness. ↬  genre: Divorce | Post-divorce | Mild hurt/comfort | Strangers to FWB to lovers | Getting together | Single parent | Adopted children | Angst with an happy ending | Family feels | Family fluff | Aged-up characters ↬  warnings: In this chapter just divorce and the aftermath of it.  ↬  words count: 10.6k   ↬  ao3 link

Chapter one: There’ll be happiness after me

Jaehyun always called himself a dreamer. A hopeless romantic, some may say.

Jaehyun believed in forever. Since he was young he would lose himself in endless pages about people finding ‘the one’ and staying by their side till the end. He knew that someday it would’ve been his turn to experience something like that, it was written somewhere in the stars that he would’ve had his happy ending, his perfect love story with ‘the one’.

Jaehyun believed he had found the one when his eyes started to get lost in Doyoung’s after they met during their first year of college. He didn’t plan any of what came after when their gaze first met, but he loved the way destiny pulled them closer day by day. The dates planned with Johnny’s help, his best friend, who somehow also managed to know Doyoung very well and bring him with him on every occasion. Their nights spent talking together on Yuta’s dorm rooftop when his parties would get too loud and they needed to breathe again. He loved how they would casually talk about their life plans having no idea they would’ve been part of them in the future.

Jaehyun really believed in a forever between them. He had started to believe in it when they moved together in a small two-room apartment to share the rent the second year of college and sharing the same small places brought them a strange sense of joy. Somehow, coming home to him was enough to help him relief from the stress that the hundred of missing essays and exams gave him. Somehow, washing dishes and doing the laundry was a little bit funnier with Doyoung by his side, moving around the house repeating whatever he had to study about statistics and financial risks. And it was funny to laugh at their friends telling them they wouldn’t have lasted for more than three months together when the months passed became six. And it was also funnier to giggle and blush when, giving up on their break up, their friends started to call them ‘the married couple’ of the group.

Jaehyun started to believe in a forever, even more, when they started to live together even after college, their relationship still going strong. And when they became the first married couple of their group of friends for real, after three years together.

Maybe he had believed in it a little bit too much. So much that when the music stopped and he was left alone dancing with no sound on, he felt like a fool. The spell had broken and he didn’t notice. He was so lost, high up in the sky, blinded by a fake positivity, that he didn’t think how bad it would’ve hurt once he fell down.

He always tried to see the good in every situation. But now, that he was brought back down to earth, he could see it for what it was.

It was the end. They had reached the finish line.

“Maybe we rushed things too much,” Doyoung said standing in front of the other side of the table in the middle of their kitchen. Jaehyun wasn’t looking at him, he was giving him his back, his hands resting on the countertop. He couldn’t put himself to look in his eyes, not when in them there was no love left for him, anymore.

“After seven years, Doyoung?” He asked, bitterness filling his voice as he spat out his full name. No pet names or lovey-dovey, there was no place for them anyway in their story.

“I wanted to give us a try till the end, Jae,” The black-haired man tried to explain. He wanted to get closer to his husband, trying to calm him down, maybe with a hug, that was something that always worked. But now, was that his position to do something like this?

“Was it something that I did or said? Is there a way I can change? Anything to help this get better?” Jaehyun mumbled through sobs, his hands moving swiftly trying to wipe the tears from his face, his back still turned. He hated being vulnerable, usually with anyone but Doyoung, but now he was the cause of all the pain, and he didn’t want him to see him in that condition. But Doyoung knew him too well. And even without looking, he could picture him in his mind. His beautiful warm brown eyes glossy, his soft cheeks flushed red and marked by the salty drops, his lips swollen from the bites of his teeth trying to hold in the sobs. Doyoung hated that sight, and he hated even more that it was because of him.

“No, you didn’t do anything. Is just…” The older stopped, not so sure about the words that were going to come after. He knew Jaehyun was already hurting, he didn’t want to twist the knife in his open wound.

“Is just? Say it, Dodo. Don’t beat around the bush.” Mumbled the brown-haired turning around. Fuck trying not to be weak in front of his eyes. Doyoung had already seen him at his worst, and he didn’t care if now his eyes weren’t his welcoming home anymore. He had to see him, to see his lips move while pronouncing words that would’ve haunted him forever.

“I feel like this is not my place anymore.” This time the one hiding was the oldest. His eyes met the floor as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he didn’t want to see Jaehyun’s pretty eyes sadden even more and his face drop into pain. But he didn’t need that, because the choked sob coming from Jaehyun’s lips was more than enough to hurt like a knife in the chest.

“Yoonoh, please,” Doyoung tried to say starting to move closer to the other man, his hand reaching for his husband.

“Don’t call me that and don’t you dare touch me!” He screamed taking some steps back. It wasn’t supposed to come out so cruel and aloof. The normal Jaehyun would’ve slapped himself for this kind of reaction, but now he was dealing with a pain he never imagined to feel. Doyoung was supposed to come home like any other day, hug him from behind, leave a trail of kisses on his neck and then reach for his lips. They were supposed to eat dinner together, do the dishes, and then plunge on the sofa to watch something on the TV together. They were supposed to leave it as a background sound while they made love to each other and then fell asleep there, just to wake up in the middle of the night because one of them fell on the ground. Jaehyun had planned everything but this. Doyoung wasn’t supposed to come home three hours before the usual just tell him that they needed to talk and then ask for a divorce. And no matter how much he knew that he needed to let go, he just couldn’t. Jaehyun couldn’t believe that that was the destiny written for them. Where was his happy ending? Where was his forever? Why Doyoung wasn’t the one?

And letting himself fall against the kitchen cabinet was a childish thing to do, he was a twenty-seven years old man, yet he couldn’t bring his legs to carry him to their bedroom and fall apart there. He couldn’t even force himself to deal with all of it like an adult.

Doyoung’s heart broke into a million pieces, that was the exact reason why he hesitated so much to drop the news. He knew Jaehyun would’ve reacted that way, and he didn’t want to witness that.

“Jaehyun, please.” He tried once again to step closer to him, but somehow the younger would crouch further against the cabinet.

“It’s because there’s somebody else, right? You found someone better than me.” Jaehyun started to mumble, his watery eyes looking up at Doyoung’s and his lower lip shaking.

“No, there’s nobody else, don’t be stupid.” That was one of Jaehyun’s biggest fear, they had talked about it several times, since the first years of their relationship, and normally he would’ve answered with ‘There’s nobody better than you’ but saying it now, would’ve felt like a joke. Doyoung was still convinced than almost none could come close to Jaehyun, or else he wouldn’t have loved him for such a long time, but right now it felt out of place. He was the one leaving.

Jaehyun sighed and got up once again. “Well, whoever it is I hope they’ll be a beautiful fool.” He said moving past him, their shoulders brushing against each other. And normally he would’ve never said something like this, but he couldn’t think past the anger and fury and regret. Maybe if nobody would’ve been able to take his spot next to him he would’ve come back, right? Maybe they were destined to be together, they just need to take a wider route. But he knew that it was a wishful thinking and a delusional dreaming. That was their last stop.

“Why?” He kept repeating under his breath as he paced back and forth in the living room of their house. He knew that Doyoung didn’t own him anything. It was life, people come and people go. You can’t do anything to make them stay if they don’t want to. You can’t force somebody to love you once the thrill expires. But the pill is hard to swallow when you had other plans in mind. When you dared to dream too far and reality collides with it, crushing your fantasies into pieces.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung called him, trying to gain his attention. And he turned around. “I loved you so damn much, every single day that we spent together was filled with love. I just don’t feel the thrill of before. It’s like our story turned from gold to grey. I just can’t picture me being by your side in the future.” Doyoung knew that his words were like stabs but he also knew that Jaehyun needed to know. Maybe now he would throw a framed picture or a vase at him, but in the future, when he could rationalize everything, he would’ve got why he was doing this.

“But why?” Jaehyun’s words came out strangled and unusually high for his warm baritone voice.

“I don’t know.” And it was true. Doyoung had no idea how to explain what he felt. He could still remember the pain when he started to feel that something was off. When waking up with Jaehyun by his side stopped giving him the same usual strength to get up and face a hard day at work. Or when coming home he just wanted to eat, take a shower and go to bed instead of talking with his husband. He didn’t know when he started to fake smiles when his mother invited them at lunch on Sundays and asked about their future plans together. He had no idea why Jaehyun started to fade and his sparkling shining golden aura turned into a faded bronze.

“So you’re leaving me for no reasons?” Jaehyun asked, sniffling.

“I –” Doyoung stopped, a heavy breath coming out of his mouth.

“What I deserve I guess.” He huffed running his fingers through his hair, pulling them back.

“I know why I’m leaving you. I don’t know why I started to feel like this! Do you think I’m happy that our story has to end like this? Do you think I thought of this when I married you? Do you think it’s going to be easy for me?” Doyoung raised his voice in frustration. He hated fighting with Jaehyun. It wasn’t something that happened so often but when it did it was hell. Jaehyun was so headstrong and didn’t want to listen to anybody, he would simply close in his shell and leave you out, with few or no answers. Then he would usually calm down, and come back to talk, but now they had no time for this.

“But that’s what you want, Do. How hard is going to be for you if the divorce is going to be the one thing to make you happy?” Jaehyun retorted.

Doyoung didn’t answer. Jaehyun was right. That was what he wanted because he knew that staying with him didn’t bring him happiness anymore. But for Jaehyun, he still was a source of happiness, the one he imagined to spent his whole life with. And he couldn’t compare their pain. So silence was the best thing he could give him.

And Jaehyun wanted to keep on whining, screaming questions that simply wouldn’t have found any answers. He felt lost. What was going to be of him? No, he wasn’t addicted to Doyoung, he knew that he could survive by himself, but the fact that he couldn’t see the clearer picture terrorized him. He wanted to ask him to hug him, he wanted to let himself go in his arms, the ones who always calmed him down. He wanted to feel the warmth of his body for the last time, bury his face in the crook of his collarbones and breath in his scent. He wanted to hear his soft voice whisper in his ears that everything was going to be fine. He wanted to pretend that everything was fine. That all of that was just a terribly realistic nightmare. But at what cost? Of being hurt even more when reality would’ve hit him once again?

His eyes flickered to Doyoung’s, trying to still see himself in them, but there was no trace anymore. A sad smile painted his face and then his head faced the floor again. The cold hit him all of a sudden, Doyoung wasn’t his homeland anymore. And there was nothing he could do to change it. There was nothing to defend anymore, now that their land wasn’t theirs anymore.

Another heavy sigh left Jaehyun’s lips, while his hand tried to cancel the marks the tears had left on his face. He felt like his soul had been sucked away from him and he just wanted to sleep, maybe in another place, he would’ve had a happy ending. Yet, he wasn’t doing anything. Jaehyun was standing still, in the middle of their living room, looking outside of the window, with his arms wrapped around himself, the only hug he could count on at the moment.

The green outside was too bright, too hopeful for him. Right now he just wanted to add sadness to his pain and cry all the liquids he had in his body, but it seemed like he already did. He hugged himself tighter, for the first time, Doyoung’s gaze on him made him feel naked like the one of a stranger. After he had shown him everything he had, all of his most vulnerable spots, he felt uncomfortable under his gaze. A river run down his spine, he couldn’t believe he was feeling like this in front of him. And feeling so unfamiliar under his gaze made him wonder, will he ever be able to let somebody else get as deep under his skin as Doyoung got? He shivered at the thought of opening up to somebody else, of other hands touching him, other lips kissing him. He couldn’t imagine that.

He gave a quick look ad Doyoung another time. The man was leaning against the back of the couch, his hands in the pocket of his suit pants and his head bent looking at his feet.

“I’m sleeping in the host bedroom,” He whispered before walking upstairs quickly, without waiting for the other to answer. He didn’t want to sleep in their bed, or what used to be theirs. He knew that knowing he was under the same roof without being his anymore would’ve consumed him enough.

When he arrived in the bedroom he stopped in front of the mirror. He looked like a ghost. His hair messy and wet from the sweat that pearled his forehead, his white shirt crumpled, his eyes red like his lips and cheeks. He felt so pathetic, he was supposed to face things differently, not like a teenager who just got dumped. But how could he take it well after all the years he had given to Doyoung? Jaehyun knew that it would’ve got better. That one day the cold he felt as soon as his body came in contact with the lonely bed would’ve disappeared. He knew that he would’ve walked out of that door with a genuine smile on his face. He knew he would’ve reinvented himself, and started to feel something once again. He knew there would’ve been brighter days, but now he just wanted to fall in the oblivion of his sadness. He had just lost the love of his life out of the blue. He couldn’t face being positive. He couldn’t face reinvention.

༄

Jaehyun tried to be his old positive self one week after that talk. Maturity had hit him, and he realized that being petty wouldn’t have led him anywhere. He didn’t want Doyoung to feel guilty for something he had all the rights to do and to feel. He also didn’t want to stain their relationship with bad blood. He woke up, trying to wear his best smile, and see the good in that situation like he always did. He tried to go past everything that had happened in the last seven days. But it wasn’t easy looking at Doyoung packing his things up and discuss what he would’ve taken away with him and what would’ve stayed there. Not when memories of them moving in together popped in Jaehyun’s mind every time the older pointed at something to ask him if he wanted it or he could’ve taken it away. And Jaehyun used to shrug almost at everything, he could’ve taken everything, maybe it would’ve helped him to forget him and don’t find him in every corner of the house.

“Are you staying at yours?” Jaehyun dared to ask, knowing damn well that if the answer would’ve been different he would’ve hated it.

Doyoung shook his head. “I’m staying at Donghyuck’s place for a while. I haven’t told my family, yet.” He admitted, his eyes timidly searching for Jaehyun’s. And it felt too strange how their eyes would avoid each other, stealing glances like thieves in the night. It felt like going back to when they first met, but now there wasn’t the excitement of getting to know each other, now there was the fear of hurting each other.

Jaehyun nodded, his lower lip trapped in his teeth, typical of him when he was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. And he thought that he also didn’t say anything to his parents, or his friends. How do you even say something like this? Why nobody ever teaches you how to deal with bad things? Was a text too harsh to communicate that he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life with Doyoung anymore? Was it too selfish when he didn’t feel to talk about it with anyone and have to sit there and look at the pity in their eyes?

“Did you– did you already contacted a lawyer?” The younger stuttered.

Doyoung sighed and got up from his bent position over one of the boxes he was filling up with his stuff.

“I wanted to be sure we were doing this.” He said, looking straight at Jaehyun. He couldn’t read his expression, the younger had always been pretty good at hiding his emotion anyway, he couldn’t expect anything else now. “Maybe we can take a pause if you don’t wan–”

“No,” Jaehyun stopped him before he could finish. “I’m fine with a divorce if that’s what you want.” There was no use to tergiversate. Being on a break and for what? Hoping that the flame of love would’ve sparkled inside of Doyoung again all of a sudden; just to be let down once again. No matter how much he hated or didn’t plan this, it was their end, and he had to accept it.

That was supposed to be the hardest part, right? Past all the devastation of the surprise. Past the screams, the curses and cries. Beyond the terror of the night falling on him without Doyoung by his side. He was already halfway there, he just had to let go.

“So, I’ll let you know as soon as I know something,” Doyoung voice sounded tight in his throat as he was standing out of the door. His things packed up in his car, parked in their driveway. It hurt to leave. Because, yes, that was what he wanted but he and Jaehyun had shared so much that actually letting him go wasn’t easy. They had been friends before being lovers. They had been best friends before being boyfriends. They had each other’s back every day before being husbands. Jaehyun was his partner in crime. His other half. The support he knew he could always count on. Jaehyun had been such an important part of his life and now, he wasn’t so sure of letting him behind. But he couldn’t stay, not because of a wave of melancholy or out of pity and habit. No matter how much he deeply cared for Jaehyun, his side wasn’t his place anymore and he couldn’t force himself there.

“Yeah, okay.” Jaehyun simply answered, his hand resting on the door to keep it open. “Drive safely,” He said, with a smile on his face. ‘And let me know when you arrive safe and sound’ he wanted to add, but that simply wasn’t his place anymore. Doyoung would’ve never sent him texts like that again, to let him know that he made it at work, or to the pub when he would go out with his friends on Saturdays. No more texts letting him know he had eaten the food he had cooked for him and it was delicious. No more calls at 3 p.m. because Doyoung didn’t want to deal with clients at work, also distracting Jaehyun from his job. And especially no more kisses at the door, the rushed ones because one of them had to go to work while the other worked from home. Or the rushed one in the car when Jaehyun used to drop him off before driving to his office. And his smile turned bitter when he realised that one of those had been their last and he had no idea. If he only knew, maybe he would’ve kissed him longer and held him tighter, screw it arriving late at work.

“See you, then,” Doyoung said scratching his head, bringing him back to earth, an awkward smile on his face.

Jaehyun held back the urge to launch forward and kiss him because Doyoung looked so beautiful. From the way his sweet eyes shined, so kind yet so captivating, to his perfect cheekbones and the way his hair would fall on his forehead perfectly. And also because he was afraid he would forget way too soon how his lips tasted.

“Yeah, see you,” He whispered instead, pushing down the lump in his throat. The realization that probably the next time he would’ve seen him would’ve been in a court hit him harder than expected. No more of seeing his eyes close to his, or feel his breath on his skin. No more getting lost in his kisses. No more tracing path on his tender skin with his fingers.

Now that Doyoung’s back was facing him he realized that he would’ve never seen it again when he would lay on their bed, and Doyoung would spend minutes facing the closet to pick what to wear after the shower. Or in the morning at the countertop while he would sleepily cook breakfast for both of them. Jaehyun would’ve never let his face sink into his shoulder and let the scent of his hair lull him.

Another sad smile crept on his face as he closed the door and let his body rest on it.

Jaehyun would’ve loved him for a lifetime. But he had to leave it all behind. All of the pain. And all of the happiness.

He had to leave it all behind.

༄

“A divorce?” Johnny asked with his eyes wide open, he didn’t want to sound so shocked but that wasn’t what he expected when his best friend called him to go over to his place for their usual Tuesday night together.

“Yeah, there’s nothing we can do anymore, John.” The younger man whispered as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. A bitter smile on his face.

“And he’s okay with it?” The other asked, moving uncomfortably in his seat. No, it wasn’t his life, but he had seen them getting together back when they all went to college, he had been Jaehyun’s best man at their wedding, he had helped them move in, and now, this. He always thought they were one of the strongest couples in their circle of friends, that was the last thing he expected to come from them.

“I mean, he asked me this.” If there was someone not okay with all of this was Jaehyun, not Doyoung. But what else was he supposed to do? Stump his feet on the ground, scream and cry, and make Doyoung stay out of pity? He had thought about it when alcohol drowned his blood and he attempted to call him in the middle of the night. But he gave up, and instead, he dragged his body on their bedroom, letting his acid tears wet the pillow were Doyoung used to lay his head. What was left of his scent, lulling him to sleep.

Johnny’s eyes widened even more. He wanted to ask so many questions, but he kept quiet. He was more than sure that Jaehyun didn’t want to talk. Not about that at least.

“Do you want to stay here for a while?” Johnny asked, pushing his hair back with a hand, and leaning closer to his friend with his upper body, trying to get a better view of him.

Jaehyun thought about it for a while, was that going to change something? He was supposed to go back to what used to be their place anyway, sooner or later. He sighed, pushed down in one go the liquid in the glass and then answered. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

But Jaehyun wasn’t fine at all.

And right there where they used to share their everything, Jaehyun wondered when it all went wrong. When did they start to walk on a thin line? Step after step balancing on a tightrope. When did they fall down? Why he couldn’t see the sign? If Doyoung ever gave him a warning sign. And maybe he did, maybe Doyoung was screaming for help, begging to be heard. And Jaehyun didn’t get it, too busy trying to paint their canvas gold instead of repairing the damages. But Jaehyun didn’t have superpowers, he couldn’t read his mind, no matter how hard he tried or wanted.

Probably he should’ve seen it. When his enthusiasm in holding conversations at dinner faded, and he would move the food from side to side of the plate. He should’ve got that something was wrong when his smiles turned into smirks most of the times. He should’ve seen it when Doyoung would shrink away in the bed, giving him his back and not wanting to be hugged.

Jaehyun could’ve noticed so many things, and dwell in regret, but what was the point now? He couldn’t turn things around or go back in time. But he wondered if Doyoung had secretly given them second, third and hundred changes. And if he did, he was mad at him for not speaking up. For keeping everything under the rug, trying to put the pieces back up by himself. Because Jaehyun would’ve done anything to not shipwreck and save their relationship. Maybe nothing would’ve changed anyway, but at least he would’ve given it a try, and that would’ve made it easier for him to sleep at night without being haunted by regret.

Another thought that haunted him was when did Doyoung start to mentally already be out of the door? When was the last sincere ‘I love you’ that rolled out of Doyoung’s lips? He thought of their last kiss, shared that morning before Doyoung left for work, and suddenly the taste on his lips turned bittersweet. There was no love in it, and in so many other things they did in the last, he didn’t know how many, months.

That hurt him the most. Knowing that there was no love left for him, anymore.

But he hated the most how his brain would constantly bring him back to him. A constant reminder that he wasn’t there. Day and night, on and on.

Jaehyun couldn’t find a way to put a closure to them.

Not even when the closure arrived legally.

Jaehyun’s heart ached when he saw Doyoung standing at the other side of the room. His fit body wrapped in one of his usual suit and tie attire, with his shiny shoes at the feet. His black hair pulled back, showing perfectly his painfully handsome forehead and face. He looked unreal, as always since he met him. And from the outside, it looked like a perfectly usual day, with Doyoung dressed like that ready to go to work and come home. But it wasn’t like this. Because now, the one left on the outside was Jaehyun, looking inside at the film reel that was showing a story that wasn’t there anymore.

It had been three months since he had seen him last when they started the practice for the divorce. And now they needed to seal the deal and put a serious end to it all. It felt strange, a few minutes and they weren’t going to be married anymore even for the law. Memories of their wedding flashed before his eyes, it was crazy how a sign could tie somebody ‘forever’ and another one could tear them apart.  

“So, it’s done.” Jaehyun shrugged with his hands in his pocket as soon as they were outside the court. They were standing next to each other, for no particular reason. They weren’t tied anymore, their red string of fate broken, yet, they couldn’t move away from each other. It strangely felt nice, though. Probably because they were both staring at the crowded street in front of them, full of moms carrying their babies in the strollers, people walking their dogs, others running to work. They could somehow get lost inside other’s people lives and don’t focus on theirs who had just changed forever.

“Yes, it’s done,” Doyoung answered, his eyes looking at the ground for a brief second. He didn’t feel the heavy weight lift from his heart when he signed the papers and he wondered why. Was it because there was no bad blood between them and it was harder to let go? Or maybe because he feared he would’ve lost Jaehyun forever. But could he ask him to stay friends after everything they had? How selfish would have that been?

“Well, what people usually say after this?” Jaehyun asked giggling, turning to the side to face him. His ears tinted with a shy shade of red.

“I have no idea,” Doyoung let out a small laugh. “I guess people usually tell the other to fuck off forever, but I think that’s not the case, right?” He asked, fearing that in reality that was the case. In the end, he kind of deserved it after all the hurting he had cause to Jaehyun without being even able to give him a reason.

“Nope, definitely not us.” The youngest answered with a small smile on his face, and his dimple appeared shyly for a fragment. Doyoung would’ve missed it. He knew he would’ve missed a lot of things about Jaehyun that had made his day for the last seven years. That wasn’t his home anymore, but it had been, and he could never regret it. But he also felt that something better was waiting for them in the future, they would’ve found their happy ending, ‘the one’, their place in the world.

When silent filled the air around them once again, Doyoung started to nervously move on the spot. That was really the end of their story and it felt surreal because he seriously had thought they were the lucky ones. And Doyoung always hated being proven wrong. Or maybe they were the ones. People always say that, right, the right person at the wrong time. Maybe if they had met each other now. Maybe if they hadn’t changed so much through the years. But what was the sense of filling a blank page of ‘What Ifs’ when the reality was different?

“I still have something to take from home, I forgot some things.” The oldest mumbled, trying to fix a strand of hair that was falling from the one who was still sticking together with the gel. No, he wasn’t so sure about it. But it was an excuse to come back again and properly say goodbye to what had been his home for the last years of his life, and see him again.

“You can pass anytime, you know my routine.” The brown-haired noted. ‘You were part of it until a few time ago’ He wanted to add, but didn’t. There was no need to remind him, Doyoung knew it.

“Great,” Doyoung exclaimed, clapping his hand together to cut it out. “I’ll text beforehand so I’ll be sure I won’t bother you.”

“Fine. See you!” Jaehyun answered as he watched him go again. “You won’t ever bother me.” He added in a whisper, just for himself.

And as he watched Doyoung’s disappear from his sight, his heart ached in his chest. It felt like he had been sent away from his homeland, his crown, with no chance of coming back. In exile, seeing him from the outside. Doyoung wasn’t his crown anymore. There was nothing more to defend, now. And he had to accept it.

༄

The Christmas lights were all over the city. From the decoration of the houses to the big illuminations in the streets. The first snow had already fallen on the city and the white snowflakes were still laying on top of every surface they found when they fell from the sky.

The cold was starting to get on Jaehyun’s nerve, his nose red and frozen, the heat given to his hands cupping his face not enough to warm him up.

“Johnny! Are you done?” He asked lightly jumping on the spot to at least try not to freeze his knees too and walk around like Pinocchio.

“I’m almost there. Just this small thing for Mark, he’s coming back from Canada.” His best friend screamed, still busy with his nose buried in one of those small open boutiques in the busy square where they held Christmas markets.

Jaehyun had no idea why Johnny always procrastinated in everything and mostly he had no idea why he would always follow him everywhere. Usually, he wouldn’t have minded much since Christmas was his favourite holiday. It meant staying with his loved ones, hot chocolate in the evening, the same old movies on the TV, making biscuits on Christmas Eve and wrapping up gifts. Usually, he wouldn’t even have minded staying in the frozen cold for hours just because Johnny needed to buy thousand of things last minute and getting his arms numb. Because that would’ve made his home feel cosier once he got back and after hanging his scarf and coat on the clothing hanger he would’ve collapsed in Doyoung’s arms who were waiting for him open as he laid on the couch. And they would’ve laughed about something stupid Johnny had done or said. Just to drink hot tea side by side with their silly matching pyjamas, the ones Jaehyun insisted so much to buy. But his home had gotten pretty cold that winter. He couldn’t feel the Christmas spirit all around him. He didn’t even put up decorations. What was the point anyway if his hands wouldn’t have met Doyoung’s while putting up the lights, or he couldn’t hear Doyoung screaming against the garland who had no intention to stay on the wall. And what was the need of the Christmas tree if the only gift he wanted that year was something he could never have back?

“You’re zoning out again, Jae.” Johnny’s voice brought him back to reality, a sigh left his lips forming a white cloud in front of his face.

“Sorry.” He mumbled looking down at all the bags Johnny was carrying with him. “All of these gifts and for who?”

“You, Ten, Mark, Yuta, my parents, the lil’ girl of our neighbour, oh and the old lady that lives on the other side of the road, she always brings me and Ten biscuits and home-made blankets, she’s so sweet. Some of my co-workers, and other people that you don’t know. Oh also Do–” Johnny stopped immediately when he realized the name that was about to roll out of his lips.

Jaehyun rolled his eyes at the sky. “You can say his name in front of me, John. I’m not going to die if you talk about him.” He said. “Also hand me some of these. You look like Santa Claus.” He joked grabbing some of the bags the older was holding.

“Well, I don’t want to say something out of place,” Johnny told him as soon as they started to walk towards Johnny’s car.

“You were friends with him before me, so I don’t see where there’s a problem.” Jaehyun reminded him.

“The problem is in the way you stopped seeing the light of the sun unless I drag you out of the house, Mister Jung,” Johnny remarked, side-eyeing him.

Jaehyun scoffed. “I’m fine, Johnny.”

“Lie to your face in the mirror, not me. I know you since we were in diapers, Yoonoh.” The man said, stopping in his tracks, to give him a bad look.

“Fine,” He gave up, raising his hands in the air. “And what should I do about it?”

“Don’t know, maybe get out? Drag your fine ass somewhere and get some dick like you used to do.”

“Johnny! For fuck sake, shut up!” He screamed, his face turning completely red from embarrassment. Why did he have to be like that?

“I didn’t lie.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t intend to do it.” Jaehyun asserted.

“Why not? You’re just twenty-seven. Don’t act like your life his over.” Johnny whined almost as if he would gain something from him starting to do it. And maybe he would. He wouldn’t have to listen to him whine and cry about 'the wasted years of his life’ like he used to call him. He would’ve got the funny positive Jaehyun back. But it felt like a dream.

“I don’t have the age to go clubbing and come back at two, John.” He rolled his eyes again. “And hook up with random people?” He squealed, just the mere thought disgusting him.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t get any.”

“That’s not the point! I’m not looking for a random adventure.” He explained. He rarely did that when he was in high school, imagine now.

“You really have a thing for commitment, ugh?” Johnny asked tilting his head. They had arrived at the car and Johnny opened the trunk to put the bags inside.

Jaehyun didn’t answer, he simply gave him side eyes and helped with his stuff.

Once the engine was on and they started to make their way in the city traffic, Johnny brought up the conversation again. “Listen, let me be serious.”

“Finally, thank God,” Jaehyun exclaimed, letting his head fall against the seat.

“Hey!” Johnny screamed, hitting his arm playfully. “Anyway, I’m not telling you to go back in the game, yet. I can’t even imagine how hard it is for you, but you can still have some fun, you know?”

Jaehyun’s face contorted in disgust another time. “And how? Downloading some app so I’ll be opening the door to a creepy man who’s real plan is to kill me? Or go to the club and take a woman home and boom, since God’s not by my side she’ll end up pregnant someway?”

“Why do you always have to see the bad picture, you weren’t like this!” Johnny exhaled through his nose, his hands tighten on the wheel out of frustration.

“Exactly, and look at where it led me being all positive and shit.” He burst out moving his hands frenetically.

Another sigh left Johnny’s mouth. The situation was more tragic than what he expected. He knew that it wouldn’t have been all sunshine and rainbows but he couldn’t see his best friend like this. He decided to drop the conversation, though. He had to come up with a great idea Jaehyun couldn’t refuse instead of making him go crazy. So the rest of the drive went on smoothly, with music playing in the background and the two of them talking about this and that.

“Thanks for the ride home,” Jaehyun said once Johnny entered his driveway, one hand on the car door handle ready to go out.

“Thank you for coming and pull up with my shits. I swear that your Christmas gift is going to make it up for all of this.” Johnny said, a bright smile painted on his face.

Jaehyun smiled with his eyes, something Johnny had stopped witnessing so often. “Nah, you know I like spending time with you like this. It reminds me of when we were younger.”

“Wait!” Johnny screamed rolling down the window. “Why don’t you come to our party on the 22nd? Ten told me that one of his friends from the dance academy course in French is coming over, if I don’t remember wrong he’s also your age.”

Jaehyun wanted to roll his eyes again, Johnny really wasn’t throwing the towel. But instead, he thought for a while and then agreed. What could go wrong?

Everything, actually.

It wasn’t even Jaehyun’s fault. He went there with the best intentions, even quite convinced of letting himself go for one night and, why not, give a shot to Ten’s friend. He deserved a sparkle of happiness, right? Wallowing in his misery wasn’t leading to anywhere good.

And now Jaehyun was standing in his friends’ hall, leaning against the white wall with a glass of champagne in hand looking around the room. One hour had passed since he had arrived and Ten’s friend was nowhere to be seen. And in all of that, Johnny had forgotten to say that they had also invited Doyoung to the party. Worst of it all it was that Doyoung had brought along somebody else.

Jaehyun wanted to leave. Run at home and cry in his bed till he passed out. But at the same time, he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his friends and his ex-husband. He knew that leaving would’ve made him the centre of their conversations with Johnny sighing and saying how bad he was affronting the situation. And as much as he liked his friends caring for him he also hated to be pitied, especially in front of the cause of his pain.

Tired of acting like a pillar for the wall he started to wander around the room. He had no idea since when Johnny and Ten started to have so many friends to call over, and why they enjoyed so much throwing parties. Probably it was all Ten’s fault, and the way he couldn’t leave his job as an event planner out of the house. It was good, though. Ten’s taste was great and similar to Jaehyun’s, delicate colours schemes and pretty decoration. And Johnny was good at cooking, making delicious finger foods laying on the table that they moved in the middle of the living room. Their house was also big enough to let people breathe and don’t crash against each other. But he used to enjoy this party way more the years that had passed. There were fewer people and he almost knew every single one of them. Now the place was full of unknown faces and the ones he knew were hurting him.

Thank God the kitchen was empty and he knew that Johnny let the pass inside only to few people, luckily he was one of them. He could breathe again and get ready to go back outside and face all the other happy faces. Maybe start talking with someone about everything and anything. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear about anyone’s happy families and their successful marriage, but he guessed it was still better than nothing.

One thing he wasn’t expecting on the way out was coming face to face with Doyoung. His breath got caught in his throat as he took a small step back, the distance between them increasing. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. Seeing him from distance was already bad enough but having to face him, oh hell no.

He had no idea if it was because it had been six months since had seen him last, but Doyoung looked even more breathtaking than the usual. His black hair was falling into places so perfectly on his face. He was wearing one of his favourite black turtleneck, a silver necklace that he couldn’t recognize, and black jeans. But then Jaehyun’s eyes fell on Doyoung’s hand just to see a ring that wasn’t theirs, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Hey.” Before he could focus more on it, Doyoung’s voice brought his attention back on him.

“H–hey,” He stuttered, suddenly feeling trapped. Doyoung had no intention to start a conversation with him, right? He wouldn’t have been so cruel, right?

“How’s it going? It’s been quite some time since we’ve seen each other.” Okay, Doyoung had chosen cruelty that day. And Jaehyun decided to be a fool and answer him. He should’ve made up a random excuse and leave. Say that he forgot something on the stoves. Or that he needed to turn down the heater he had forgotten on. But he decided to stay, and lie.

“Good. I’m doing great. What about you?” His same old fake smile that he would plaster in a situation like this popped on his face, but now Doyoung was too busy to notice it, too caught up in something else, or better, someone else, to decipher the messages behind Jaehyun unspoken words.

“That’s amazing. Johnny had told me you were a bit down?” Doyoung asked, worry written all over his face. And it would’ve warmed Jaehyun’s heart if he could only have the confirmation that it was real and not put there just because he had to.

“Oh no, I’ve been extremely busy with work lately and I also started to do graphic commission by myself, outside of the agency that’s why,” Jaehyun said smiling. Reminding himself to kill Johnny the first time he had the opportunity.

“Oh, wow. Want to go independent?” Doyoung asked and he sounded genuinely interested in it.

“Don’t know. Just wanted to try something else.” He smiled, the reality was that he was trying to fill his days with more work so he couldn’t think about anything else. Or to be more precise, he had no time to think about Doyoung. Staying up all night for him was already enough. Working on graphics of any kind meant to do hours of research, build a plan, make drafts and then put everything into work. He couldn’t let himself get lost into other things that hurt him more.

Doyoung nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line.

“You?” Jaehyun asked again, knowing damn well he would’ve hated the answer. Because Doyoung had nothing to lie about. He was happy without him.

“Mh, quite good. Same shit at work, I guess.” Doyoung laughed it off, leaving out the part of his love life and how happy he was. There was no need to be so cruel and shove in his face that he had found somebody else after nine months without him.

Jaehyun held back a laugh, he knew he was avoiding that topic because Doyoung was more than happy. He could see it in his relaxed face and in the way he was laughing happily when Jaehyun caught sight of him at the start of the night, with his arms around the other boy’s waist. There was no need to give him fake niceties when he knew damn well that Jaehyun had him written in the palm of his hands and could read him like the words of his favourite song. And he could see that Doyoung was shining, sparkling like a comet in the sky, who passed in his sky for a brief second and then moved on, destined to glow forever for somebody else.

“You’re here! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A voice exclaimed all of sudden from behind Jaehyun. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Yeah, I was catching up with –” Doyoung stopped in his track, not knowing what to say. Taeyong knew he was divorced but he never talked much about it and he also never seen a picture of him, there was no way he could recognize him, also he didn’t want to use the term ex-husband for some reason in front of Jaehyun.

“I’m Jaehyun.” The youngest said handing his hand to the man who came by Doyoung side, deciding to skip the awkward part of letting him know who he was in his past life.

The man smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Taeyong, nice to meet you.” Then he turned to Doyoung. “Johnny needs you upstairs for something, by the way.”

“Oh, right now?” He asked, his eyes moving fast between the two other men. Taeyong nodded and grabbed a glass of champagne from the stand by their side. “Coming with me?”

“No, he just wanted you.”

Doyoung stopped in his tracks and glanced back at Jaehyun worried.

Jaehyun smiled and though that Doyoung hadn’t met the new him, yet.

“Go, you know Johnny doesn’t like to wait. We’ll survive without you.” He joked, trying to assure Doyoung that there was no problem if he let them alone.

A small chuckle left Taeyong lips at his words and after a second of hesitation, Doyoung disappeared in the crowds of other people.

“You’re Johnny’s friend?” The blonde-haired man asked, turning around to look at him.

“Yeah, we’ve grown up together.” He said, taking a big gulp from his glass of champagne. He knew he needed it to survive. “You?” He added, trying to get the answer Doyoung was avoiding to give him.

“Oh, I’ve worked with Ten at an event and we quickly became friends.” He said smiling and Jaehyun frowned. Both because things weren’t adding up, he and Doyoung were way too close to not know each other, and also because he was incredibly handsome and the most immature part of him hated him. If he wanted, Taeyong could’ve stolen anyone’s man from their hands, there was no wonder Doyoung fell for him.

“And well, I’m also Doyoung’s boyfriend. You know, one thing leads to another and here we are.” He added, tilting his head to the side with a small smile on his face.

Jaehyun’s heart clung in his chest. He nodded, smiling bitterly and letting his eyes look down at his feet for a moment. Just enough for him to hide the pain at Taeyong’s eyes. 'Doyoung’s boyfriend’, and it wasn’t him.

“Are you dating someone?” The man asked, and in the sincerity of his voice, Jaehyun got that he had no idea who he was talking to. But he liked it that way. He hated fake niceties and pity. He was tired of the same mortified faces he got every time he talked with someone about his divorce, and he didn’t want them from his ex-husband’s boyfriend.

“No, and I really don’t plan too.” He said sarcastically.

Taeyong’s smile dropped, not getting where he was coming from.

“Coming out of a bad break-up after years together.” He answered his silent question, his lips pressing together in a tight smile that made both of his dimples pop out. And he could already see Taeyong’s sorry face.

“Don’t,” He warned, “I’m fine. Don’t say you’re sorry for something you didn’t do.”

Taeyong simply nodded and then stared at the ground.

“Tell me about you and Dodo, instead.”

And Taeyong face lit up again. His eyes sparkling as he started talking about this and that, and Jaehyun simply listened. How painful it was to hear somebody else talk about Doyoung like he was used to. And how hard it was to pretend he didn’t know anything so intimate about it, like the bad habit he had of leaving the wet towel on the sofa, or the spoon in the pan, or how soft he looked first thing in the morning with his sleepy gummy smile.

“You seem like an amazing couple,” Jaehyun affirmed genuinely once Taeyong finished.

Taeyong blushed. “Thanks, I’m really lucky to have him by my side.”

“Yes, you are,” Jaehyun said. “And he’s lucky to have you.” He added, swallowing the pain in his throat. Though, he wasn’t lying. Jaehyun was glad to know him in good hands, and Taeyong seemed a really good person.

Jaehyun knew that there would’ve been happiness after him. That was what Doyoung was looking for. The happiness Jaehyun wasn’t able to give him anymore. But he also knew that there had been happiness because of him, and they couldn’t delete all of that. He believed in that.

“Tell him I said hi.” He mumbled waving at the blond when he saw the black-haired coming down the stairs and started to walk away before he could hear his answer.

“Oh, sorry!” Somebody mumbled after crashing against him. His glass almost dropping from his hands.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine.” He answered, trying to regain his composure. He didn’t even look at them and started to walk away, but a hand blocked him by the wrist. He sighed, not really in the mood to start a conversation with someone. He wanted to leave. His social battery had run low.

“Sorry, didn’t want to be rude. Are you Jaehyun?” The voice asked, and finally, he turned around. His eyes meeting a man around his age, with phoenix brown eyes, and chocolate brown hair falling on his forehead.

“Why?” Jaehyun snapped out of his momentary trance.

“I’m Ten’s friend.” He sputtered, embarrassment filling his voice. “Oh, he didn’t say anything. Forget I said anything.” He said, red in the face, realizing that the man in front of him had no idea of who he was, and turned around.

“No, wait!” Jaehyun yelled, stopping him just like he did with him before. “I’m Jaehyun. I knew one of his friend my age was coming over, just had no idea it was you.”

The men smiled after emitting a sigh of relief. “Typical of Ten.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’m Sicheng.” He added, giving him his hand.

“Johnny’s not going to talk to me for a week when he realizes that I sneaked out of his party to go drink a beer in a bar with a stranger.” Jaehyun laughed after taking a sip from the pint.

Sicheng laughed and mirrored his action of putting the pint down on the small table in front of them. “I think he’s going to be more than okay with it, to be honest.” He teased, smirking and tilting his head to the side.

Jaehyun sighed and slumped his head against the palm of his head. “Damn, the situation is way more tragic than I was expecting if he told you about this setup.”

Another giggle slipped out of the man, who he later found out to be Chinese, lips.

“Actually,” he stated, “this was a set up also for me.” He admitted, face flushed in red.

“Really?”

Sicheng nodded, taking another gulp from the glass. He wasn’t sure about telling him his story, or why he was there, trying to find a new and better life, but at the same time, he didn’t want to keep many secrets to him. Nothing good starts with thousands of skeleton in the closet.

“What are you looking for, here?” Jaehyun asked, propping his chin with his elbow on the table.

Sicheng exhaled and let his back rest against the bench. “Happiness, I guess.” When Jaehyun expression changed and suddenly the mood became sadder he added, “Was that too deep?”

Jaehyun shook his head immediately and straightened his posture. “No. I’m looking for the same thing.”

The Chinese man took a breath of relief, a small smile appearing on his face. “I just want to breathe, you know? I tough that close to my thirties big surprises in my life would be over but destiny loves to prove you wrong.”

Jaehyun had no idea what he was talking about, but he could exactly get his point of view. Being almost thirty doesn’t mean that you’re old, or that your life is over, but starting from zero when you weren’t expecting certain things to happen wasn’t easy.

“So you opted for the ‘New country, new me’” He tried to ironize, adding quotation marks with his hands in the air.

“I guess,” Sicheng shrugged. “I needed to breathe fresh air and give my life a drastic change that would motivate me to move forward.”

“A break-up?” The other asked, raising his eyebrow, trying to guess what he was running away from.

Sicheng stilled for a second and mumbled: “Yes, just that.” And then added an embarrassed laugh. Jaehyun nodded, not totally convinced, but who was he to expect him to open up to him? They were strangers who were happening to be talking to each other.

“And you?” Sicheng asked, trying to change the topic from him and his life.

“Ugh,” he chuckled, “I just divorced after seven years, pretty much out of nowhere because everything seemed perfect for me but apparently it wasn’t.” He said, with a forced smile on his face, looking straight at Sicheng’s eyes.

Sicheng’s mouth hung open as he tried to find the words to say. “That sucks,” he let out before he could realize he had said it out loud. “No shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Dammit, that’s why I fuck everything up.” He started to mumble out covering his mouth every two words and looking everywhere but Jaehyun.

But instead of getting mad, a loud deep laugh resonated from Jaehyun’s chest. “Is this drunk you or are you normally like this?”

“I – I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

“You didn’t offend me. It was the best reaction I received after I delivered the big news. It’s not a lie, it sucks.” He smiled, trying to reassure him. “Plus, I like that you’re honest.” He smirked.

“Was that an attempt to flirt?” Sicheng asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I hope I can do better than this while flirting.”

The night went on quite smoothly, Sicheng was nice and they matched unexpectedly well together. Yet, something was stopping Jaehyun from loosing up completely. They could’ve easily gone home together and have a one night stand, just to have some fun, but something about the mere thought of it felt so wrong.

“So, it was great.” He whispered, his head low and his feet moving nervously. The cold was getting in their bones, out of the pub, bidding their goodbyes.

“Yes, it was. We could exchange numbers.” Sicheng proposed, smiling warmly at him.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jaehyun mumbled, taken aback, not expecting that to happen.

“Listen, I want to be honest with you,” Jaehyun said, putting his phone back in his pocket once they exchanged numbers. He waited for the other to nod and then went on. “I’m not looking for something romantic and serious right now.”

Sicheng smiled, a little bit bitterly and hung his head low. He had to expect it but he was still kind of sad about it. “Yeah, can imagine. It’s okay, I need friends anyway.”

“Yeah, me too. We can hang out more often.” He smiled.

“Sure, would love to.” Sicheng said, but there was a little problem, a small secret he had kept to himself for the whole night. Sicheng wasn’t so free of going out when he wanted to.

༄

Once at home, Jaehyun launched himself in his bed and let the sheets cover him completely. He wasn’t sad, he was frustrated. He hated how he couldn’t move on. Still stuck on the white pages of a book nobody would’ve kept on writing.

Why was it so hard for him to get over Doyoung? And why Doyoung already forgot him? Was he so easy to be replaced?

He got up, throwing the sheets to the side and made his way to the kitchen. Some water would’ve helped, and also made him avoid a hangover the morning after.

But the haunting thoughts had no intention to drown themselves.

Usually, divorces were never painful, it was something both people wanted, and in the cases where somebody wasn’t okay with it, there were economical issues or children in between. But there wasn’t the case.

Jaehyun couldn’t make the pain go away, in any way. He couldn’t make it go away by painting Doyoung as a villain, simply because he wasn’t. Doyoung had never done anything wrong in their seven years together. He made him live in paradise, and maybe that was the price he had to pay for all of the happiness. He should’ve reminded himself that the high was worth the pain, but he couldn’t.

And now that the cold of the night was creeping in his bones he couldn’t help but think that Doyoung’s body wasn’t next to his to keep him warm. Doyoung’s hand weren’t running on his naked skin, his lips weren’t leaving red marks on his abdomen, and they wouldn’t have become one in the night. Doyoung right now was in another bed, becoming a mess in other sheets that weren’t his. That night, and all the others from then on, the one to lay his head on Doyoung’s chest once they were done would’ve been Taeyong and not him. Doyoung’s heartbeat wasn’t his lullaby anymore.

While he would lay there, for another night that seemed endless, sleepless, trying to bid him goodbye. Trying to close his eyes and dream of a place far away from there, and be able to say his long goodbye at least in his dreams. But instead, when his brain would give up in the arms of Morpheus, Jaehyun would see it all, vivid in front of his eyes. Doyoung’s face, lighting up in the morning. His skin against his. His voice telling him how much he loved him and how he would spend the rest of his life by his side. And it felt so real, that Jaehyun couldn’t help but wake up with tears streaming down his face when Doyoung’s phantom disappeared right in front of him.

And he wished he knew how to deal with all of that. But nobody teaches you how to face a break-up like this.

No one tells you what to do when the person that swore to be by your side in joy and pain, in health and sickness, turns their back to you. Nobody tells you what to do when a good man hurts you, and involuntary, you hurt him too.

And when Jaehyun didn’t know what to do, feeling lost and unmoored, he made a mistake that would’ve changed his life forever.

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Hey, it’s me again! ^_^ I hope I don’t bother you too much with my requests, but your posts are so cool I just can’t help it. Upon completing Yakuza 4 I’ve had a lot of thoughts and feels about Daigo and how his character was handled across the series. To be honest, at first I didn’t like him much, because he seemed pretty bland (and his screen time leaves much to be desired), but soon enough he’s really grown on me. What is your opinion on him if you don’t mind me asking?

I definitely do not mind requests! Meta is my bread and butter c: I’ve just been busy for a few days, sorry ^^; And... my opinions on Daigo are not going to be as mindblowing or exciting as my opinions on Kiryu, I’ll be real ^^; And there’s a big advantage in Kiryu being the protag, All of the content is about him ^^; I do love Daigo, I think he’s a super interesting character, but his tragedy is just what you pointed out, he’s underutilized. And he isn’t set up very well to have the position he holds. 

But, so saying, let’s get into my essay on Daigo ^^; 

So, we meet Daigo properly in game 2. There’s little side stories with baby Daigo in Zero which helps build Daigo’s and Kiryu’s relationship and set up for what would later happen, but we don’t really know him until game 2. And game 2 is a LOT about Daigo and his arc and what he’s meant to be! There’s a tumblr text post meme somewhere with a pic of Daigo depressed in his little puffy white coat that says “And I’ll probably become the next chairman of the Tojo Clan. Things like that just happens to guys like me.” and that is totally accurate! Like, it’s a funny thing to complain about, but that’s obviously the struggle Daigo’s having, understanding from a young age that it was obviously his destiny to succeed Sohei, the only problem is uh... well... Kiryu. 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dojima Sohei never became chairman of the Tojo Clan. And that’s really wild thinking back to Zero and how powerful he was, he was all but a shoo in for chairman. But then, uh... Kiryu. Kiryu happened. Kiryu, and Majima I should say, are the reason Sera becomes chairman, not Sohei. Forever upsetting the wheels of fate. Given where we see Sohei next, I can’t imagine that he ever really recovered from that upset ^^; And I’m SURE it made him bitter towards Kiryu the rest of his life. And considering, again, where we see him next, I think the canon supports this ^^; 

So what becomes of Daigo’s destiny then? His father had victory snatched away, destiny denied, and everything he had slowly crumbles over time, leaving his son with less and less to inherit, but still with the ideology that he should take this over. That’s an awkward position to be in. 

And then Sera dies. Ooh, golly, I wonder who the next chairman’s gonna- it’s Kiryu. Of course it’s fucking Kiryu, how could it not be? It OBVIOUSLY should be Kiryu. He’s the strongest, the bravest, and who inspires the most loyalty. It doesn’t matter that Kiryu’s never been in leadership before, he TURNS people. Kiryu could get anyone on his side through sheer force of personality, which is hilarious to say about a guy with maybe 3 facial expressions. But tell me I’m wrong. I cannot count the number of part-time antagonists who turned on a dime because Kiryu beat their ass. And anyone who can do that can rule the world. Kiryu was absolutely the best pick for chairman and I will fight the world on this.

(Abbreviated for length, this is a LONG post)

But... then Kiryu makes the stupidest decision of his entire fucking life and renounces the chairmanship. And he has his reasons, feeling unworthy, traumatized from the events of Kiwami 1, unsure if he even wants to stay in the yakuza or if there’s maybe something else he wants to do with his life... he’s going through a lot of intense self-reflection and self-doubt and, I hate to harp on it, but fucking trauma. His brother blew himself up in front of him in a bid for redemption after all but telling Kiryu that all of his mistakes are Kiryu’s fault. Yeah, no, I’m sure Kiryu’s doing FINE with that. So, like, I can see why Kiryu said no, but it was still... fucking nuts. And it irrevocably changed the trajectory of everyone in this universe. Which Kiwami 2 goes out of its way to explore. Kiryu’s leaving? Majima fucking retires, Terada’s suspect, there aren’t any old, loyal hands left to lead the families, and we see how vulnerable the Tojo clan is on every side because Kiryu just up and fucked off. 

(I have A LOT of feelings about Kiryu being chairman and someday I will have the strength to write the AU we all deserve where Kiryu stays as chairman)

So... the wheel of fate turns and oh yeah remember Daigo? Dojima Sohei’s son Daigo? The kid who’s been raised his whole life to take over the clan only to be denied at every turn? How’s he doing? Not great! It turns out, not great! Kiryu, his father figure, killed his ACTUAL father, but didn’t really, took the blame for some other weird guy, leaving Daigo with one badass mother and very little direction in life. Daigo’s been brought up thinking he’ll take over a great kingdom but all that’s left now is a broken wreck about to be demolished and picked apart by scavengers. Great, yeah, just what any kid wants to inherit. And he wasn’t trained to fix this, it’s kinda shitty to saddle him with destiny and then not train him for the thing that actually has to be done and then do it anyway. It’s real shitty actually. And not many people help Daigo. 

Daigo couldn’t have taken the chairmanship directly from Sera, he was still just a teenager then. But it probably would have been nice if Kiryu checked in with him even fucking once since getting out of jail. But no, we never explain on screen to Daigo what happened as far as I can remember. Which, I feel, is a pretty fucking big oversight. How the fuck is Daigo supposed to trust you Kiryu? Or we’re supposed to believe he just figured it out off screen and holds no grudges? Like, I’m sure knowing Kiryu didn’t kill Sohei helps, but he couldn’t fucking tell you that himself? He couldn’t trust you with that information or that conversation? Fuck this. Very understandably, Daigo has his own crisis of faith about the yakuza, very much in parallel to Kiryu’s. Why the fuck SHOULD he go to bat for a crumbling organization that has only proven itself to be a dog chasing its own tail, willing to devour itself at the slightest provocation? It took his father, both his fathers, and he didn’t really get either of them back. Why the fuck should he try to fix that? 

And to its credit, Kiwami 2 does a decent job of articulating Daigo’s motivations there. I could have done with even more, but I think they do him credit in showing him as disenfranchised and lost. And I think it’s refreshing to see someone have to confront the consequences of what’s happened since Kiryu left. Because the games don’t do a good job of showing that this is Kiryu’s direct fault. They never like to make Kiryu’s decisions have consequence, which is poor use of a protag. Rightly or wrongly, their decisions ALWAYS have consequence, or they’re not the protag. You can’t have it both ways. If this person is going to matter then, guess what, their consequences matter. Kiryu turned away. Rightly or wrongly, he did that. Daigo will never get that opportunity. Child of destiny. Not only was he bred and raised for this, he doesn’t know how to do anything else either. He doesn’t have other options the way Kiryu does. And we’re in a terrible vacuum of power. Terada’s namely in charge, but no one’s loyal to him. Even if he wasn’t deliberately fostering this, the Tojo Clan can’t survive without faith in their leader. Daigo, by fact of being his fathers’ son, can bind what’s left. And he has to because Kiryu won’t. Which is... really shitty. So either Daigo does this, or we all hang. And we never quite articulate that this is on Kiryu’s say so. Kiryu could still take over now and fix it he just... won’t.

And on top of this already comfortably stressful situation... we set Daigo up to come into a stable situation of power, where his transition would be smooth. We didn’t give him the tools to know how to salvage. He’s not practiced negotiating with hostile entities or even just people who will resent him because he’s young. And he’s lost a lot of faith, without even charisma and willpower on his side, this is a massively uphill battle. If he doesn’t believe, who else will believe him? Daigo knows this. And we watch that struggle go on, all while Kiryu just cheerleads. He hasn’t decided yet if he’s gonna stay in the yakuza either and he’s lowkey depressed after Kiwami 1. Lowkey he’s just suffering depression and can’t do as much as he normally would. Not an excuse, but I think an important way to read how tired and reluctant he is. Some therapy would really fucking help. 

Anyway, we manage to get through Kiwami 2 and install Daigo as chairman, at which point Kiryu fucks off for good. Now, he kinda/sorta leaves some supports for Daigo, in Majima specifically, but also in Kashiwagi and I wanna believe in Daigo’s mom too. She was so cool and then we just... never talked about her again ^^; Laaaame *sigh* So, I guess, Kiryu did try to fulfill his remaining responsibilities as Daigo’s living father, but mostly it was just an excuse for him to leave and not feel guilty. Mostly it was him foisting off his duties onto someone else. He didn’t stay to teach Daigo everything he knew about the people Daigo would have to control. He didn’t teach Daigo and Majima how to talk to each other, a thing which REPEATEDLY comes back to bite us in the ass. He’s not there for Daigo to ask advice and help. Kiryu is full of confidence for Daigo, he’s not TRYING to make him fail, but Kiryu’s so caught up in his own need to leave, he neglects to people who need him. 

And Daigo, to his everlasting credit, does his best to get by without Kiryu’s help. As much as possible, he never calls to ask Kiryu for help. And he does grow into a quite competent chairman! He does successfully rehabilitate the Tojo Clan, he makes them profitable again, he insists on respect and people don’t run amok under him. He does it, he salvages a dying organization. And he may not even really believe in it, but he has such a sense of responsibility, he does it anyway. He knows there’s no one else. He knows if he goes to Kiryu and says I don’t want this, Kiryu won’t help him. Kiryu didn’t mean for it to happen this way, he didn’t mean to be selfish and put others in a bad position. But he wasn’t there to listen. And I think Kiryu eventually comes to rue that. 

The very unfortunate thing about Kiryu is... he is a dragon. Even though he is kind and generous and not greedy in a conventional sense, he is greedy. As much as Kiryu is a powerhouse because come hell or high water, he does what he thinks is right... this also makes him extremely selfish. He can be blind to other people’s needs and refused to be tied down. Again, for the best of reasons, because he’s trying to raise a family, because this environment is triggering for him, but he just hauls off and does things instead of talking to anyone which... makes him impossible to have a working relationship with. He has to learn to talk and to listen and that he can’t make all of the decisions by himself. The great irony being, Kiryu never wants to, but he doesn’t know how to ask for help. He’s so used to have everything put on him, he doesn’t realize it doesn’t have to be that way... but anyway, I’m getting caught up ^^; The point is, he thinks because he ditched the Tojo Clan they no longer care about him. Which is... naive at best. Of course people still care about you dumbass. Which makes Kiryu a massive vulnerability to the Tojo. In 3 and 4, Daigo makes stupid calls trying to protect Kiryu and trying to protect his interests. And because Kiryu hasn’t left open an avenue for them to talk, Daigo has to make these decisions on his own with bad information and he does his fucking best. But... he doesn’t know how to make the best of what he has, not like Kiryu would, and he fucks up sometimes. 

I really, really love game 4 for that reason. Daigo’s fuck up is SO understandable, SO reasonable. It sounded like a good idea, it sounded like peace and harmony. And he was left without a leg to stand on before he knew it. In many ways, it wasn’t his fault. Kiryu himself says as much. And I may never forgive the end of 4 for letting Kiryu REALIZE he defaulted on his responsibilities but then, instead of changing his behavior in any way, he fucks off back to Okinawa. God... *siiiigh* ANYWAY. 

And this struggle, this lack of communication, but unstated loyalty, comes full circle in game 5. When Daigo is literally drowning, literally knows he’s going to fail this time and there’s nothing he can do, and even when he’s with Kiryu, he can’t bring himself to ask for help. He knows Kiryu won’t or can’t. Instead he asks for absolution. He tries to tell his dad he’s just been doing his best and... he’s sorry for the terrible things that are about to happen. How gutting that Daigo can only see himself as a failure because... he’s not Kiryu. No one’s Kiryu. Even Kiryu refuses to be Kiryu. But Daigo knows if he was just Kiryu, things would be better. He’s not a legend. He’s not a god. He’s not all-powerful or crazy or impossible. He’s just a guy, doing his best because he had to. Because there was no one else. And some days Daigo does great, but a lot of days, he doesn’t measure up. And that eats at Daigo like mold. Kiryu would NEVER look at Daigo this way. Heck, most people at that point would never compare them. It’s in Daigo’s head, but it still hurts. He’s still, even now, looking up to Kiryu and he’ll just... never quite get there. 

This is the only good thing I will ever say about game 6, and it was still 2 or 3 games too late, but Kiryu finally acknowledging Daigo as his son was good. Kiryu saying he was proud and saying he was grateful was good. Again, several games late, but... it still mattered. It still mattered that, in the end, Kiryu recognized his legacy in Daigo. That he understood so much of what Daigo did and does and is and was is for him. That mattered. 

Daigo is a great chairman who takes care of his clan. But he was robbed of his relationship with his father. The games never work on the relationships that exist, strong relationships, for reasons I will never understand. Games 3, 4, and 5 would have been SO much more interesting if we had just like Kiryu talk to his fucking friends. Two would have been SO much easier if Kiryu had just been fucking chairman like he was fucking supposed to be and the transition of power to Daigo came later and smoother, with Kiryu helping to make it. Daigo tries his hardest every day and he’s an incredible negotiator and savior after all the shit he’s had to pull the Tojo Clan through, kicking and screaming and fighting to tear itself apart every damn day. The generation above him is all legends, Majima and Saejima and Kiryu. Daigo isn’t one of them. But he’s better because he was here and because he tries and because he succeeds. We need Daigo. We deserve him.