#for the sake of their children IS unfair AND as a parent its still your responsibility to care for your (grand)kids at the expense of yourse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

primergon · 3 years ago

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KINDA ANGSTY SCENARIO REQUEST: how would the tfp bots or cons (or both if you can) be at raising their child after loosing their human conjux, how would the loss affect them and the way they take care of the kid(s)? (sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language)

A/N: Thank you for sending this in Anon! Don't worry about your english, it's really good ! I'm going to the Autobots for your ask and if a lot of people enjoy this then I'll make a part two with the Decepticons! I hope that's alright <3

1. Whether it was under the influence of the matrix or not, Optimus had always wanted a sparkling. There were stories of how the matrix encourages its bearer to create life, a survival instinct crafted by the old gods to ensure that the Cybertronian race persevered. Yet even when he was still an archivist, Orion had always wanted to raise a bitlet. Therefore, even if he grieves over the loss of his conjunx, he was still the doting father. Even if Optimus was constantly torn between his responsibilities as both a leader and a father, he always seemed to make time for both. He would teach them the alphabet and read them bedtime stories, and Optimus was an expert in balancing discipline and encouragement since he used to take young soldiers under his wing. There was a familiar ache against his spark when he realizes the baby had inherited their carrier's optic colour. Whenever the sparkling cries at night, he would scoop them up in his arms gently. Cooing and rocking the little bitlet until they fall asleep. Whenever things get too difficult for Optimus, he would always look up to wonder if his conjunx is watching them. It warms his spark to know that his little sparkling will grow up just to be like their carrier. It gives him all the more reason to win this war.

2. Your death change Bumblebee. Even after the war ended and he had his voice back, it was as if the light inside him had dimmed. He turned quiet and mostly kept to himself. If it wasn't for the little sparkling you both had together, Bumblebee wouldn't have healed properly. He pushed himself to continue for your bitlet's sake, always striving to be the best father. He often seeks Optimus for advice, and when he wasn't there, Arcee and Bulkhead were more than happy to help out. Even Ultra Magnus is open to giving the Scout advice. The war sometimes makes people forget just how young Bumblebee was. He was old enough to have children of course, but he was way too young to be widowed. And so he and his sparkling learned from one another, and parenthood was a different kind of challenge for him. But the moment the baby wraps their little hand around his finger, Bumblebee knew that all the sleepless nights were worth it. He just wished you were here to see the little sparkling fall asleep against his arm.

3. Bulkhead didn't hide his grief. He would openly talk about you to his sparkling, trying to hold back tears as he remembered all the good memories you shared. He was an excellent father, even if he sometimes doubts it. Wheeljack would often remind him that he's doing amazing, even offering to babysit the bitlet while Bulkhead gets some rest. The wrecker often gets angry at the world for being unfair, for taking you away from him, from your baby. Going as far as to punch holes into the metal walls of the base. Yet, the gentle giant made sure his sparkling would never see that side of him. Always affectionate and attentive to the bitlet that reminds him so much of you. Miko would let the bitlet sit on her lap, playing with her while Bulkhead watches nearby. He often visits your grave with the baby, talking to you as if you were there to listen - and Bulkhead knows, somewhere up there, you were listening.

4. Angry. Arcee was upset, frustrated and so very angry. The world keeps on taking and taking from her. It broke her heart to know that her bitlet would grow up in such a cruel world. Yet, the moment she looks into their eyes and sees a reflection of you in them, Arcee made a promise to make sure that no hurt will ever come to her sparkling. It's funny how she used to tease June for being a helicopter mom because Arcee is no different. She's protective, sometimes too protective of the baby. Always worrying every five minutes even after Ratchet had ordered her to get some sleep. She doesn't trust anyone outside of team Prime with her child, and even if they wanted to hold the baby she would have to be close to keep watch. Jack would often watch over them, entertaining the gibberish coming out of their mouth. It warms her spark to know that even under all that loss, she still has love left inside of her. And she swore to give it all to the sparkling in her arms. Not a day goes by without her thinking of you.

5. Even if it wasn't his fault, Ratchet couldn't stop blaming himself for it. The memory of your death playing over and over again in his processor. It made him feel unworthy of the baby in his arms. He doesn't show his grief, but underneath that exterior, Ratchet was crushed. There was a multitude of emotions overwhelming him, sadness, regret, worry, anger, pain - so much pain. The hurt only goes away when the baby laughs. That gave him the push to pull himself together. Ratchet is naturally idealistic, he sets high standards for himself to cope with your absence. He became preoccupied with taking care of the baby, and if he wasn't, he was reading on how to become the ' best father.' Optimus has to constantly remind him that we cannot create the perfect parent out of a test tube. Every mistake made Ratchet feel ashamed, yet he accepted the fact that parenthood was all about learning. He wasn't religious, but Primus does the old mech feel blessed to have the baby in his arms.

6.Smokescreen still couldn't fully accept your death, stuck within this loop of bargaining and denial. It pained everyone around him to see Smokescreen so torn. The only thing that kept him grounded was the Sparkling. He loves how they remind him to stay cheerful, giving him hope even when he can barely smile. He remains optimistic for your baby's sake, knowing he still has so much to learn about being a sire. Smokescreen wasn't a perfect parent, mistakes naturally occur, but what makes him a great parent is that he tries to be better. He was maturing into a better person because of his child, achieving the best version of himself through fatherhood. Eventually, he knows he should move on from the grief, but just because Smokescreen decided to accept your death for the sake of your child doesn't mean he forgot about you. He knows that you'll always be in his spark. He wonders if you're proud of him.

7.Being a father was not something Wheeljack had predicted for himself. He had always seen himself as a lone mech, never grounded to one place. It was just heartbreaking to see that when he finally decided to build a home with you, the universe had other plans. Wheeljack guarded his emotions and kept to himself because he doesn't want to get hurt, so your death made him withdrew even more. He was angry at himself. Yet when he held the sparkling in his arms, Wheeljack realized that they needed him more than ever. He doubts he'll make a good father, but Team Prime was more than willing to help him. Bulkhead gave him a lot of pointers on how to care for the baby, even Ultra Magnus had offered some advice. Fatherhood helped him heal and at the same time, it made him realize that he still has a home. As reckless as Wheeljack was he's protective towards his baby. He only begins to cut himself some slack when Arcee compared him to Ultra Magnus. Wheeljack knew children were different from assembling ships. There was no manual. He struggled a lot, but through time and a lot of patience, he was happy to see that his sparkling grew into a mini version of himself. They remind him so much of you and Wheeljack wished you were there to see him now.

8.Ultra Magnus lives a life of fighting. Even before the war, he was already part of the military. As the leader of the Wreckers and the Autobot's second in command, Ultra Magnus has to make sure he has nothing to lose. He cannot afford any kind of liability that would hold him back. Therefore, when he lost you, he couldn't help but beat himself up for it. He feels responsible for putting you in such a dangerous position, even if your death had nothing to do with him. A common misconception is that Ultra Magnus doesn't feel, but in reality, he feels too much to the point where your death pushed him into drinking. Ultra Magnus has a hard time allowing himself grief, so once he does, he loses control for the first time in his life. The main reason he sobered up was that he knew he had a child to look after. He was attentive and observant, always providing for the sparkling whenever it cries or gets hungry. Yet, a baby is nowhere near one of his subordinates. Even if he's aware of this, he sometimes still finds himself stuck in difficult situations. The commander has a hard time asking for help, but thankfully those around him were more than willing to help out. Ultra Magnus was a strict parent. He often grows too protective of his child. The thought of losing someone after you was unbearable. However, with a little reminder here and there, Ultra Magnus had managed to raise a wonderful child. Ultra Magnus would often take a look at the holo-picture of you he keeps in his subspace and feel proud. He was happy to see that his child took after their carrier.

A/N : I hope this was what you wanted Anon <3

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ibijau · 3 years ago

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The Noble Art of Tree Climbing / On AO3

Since he lost his mother, Lan Xichen hasn't felt anything at all, and his cultivation is starting to suffer. His worried uncle decides to take him to the Unclean Realm for a change of air.

It was not a common gift to see the threads of fate between people, but Lan Xichen’s mother had called it a blessing from the heavens when she’d still been alive. She had said it was a sign fate trusted him to be wise enough to deal with that knowledge, and that he would have to be worthy of it. Lan Xichen had promised that he would try, though he wasn’t always sure what that was even supposed to mean.

At that time, all he had really known was that his mother’s thread went out of the Cloud Recesses, and his father bore no thread at all.

It was only after his mother’s death that it had hit him how odd it was for a marriage to have happened between them in spite of this, and even more so for his brother and him to have been born of such an improbable union. He had been told that dual cultivation was necessary for children to be born, and that it could only be practiced with one’s true love. His teachers couldn’t have lied, so clearly his parents had to have been in love, even without a red thread of fate, right?

It often threw Lan Xichen into a pensive state whenever he looked at the thread attached to one of his fingers, or his brother’s thread. Would that fate be enough to make them happy? It clearly hadn’t been enough for their mother, who’d had that melancholy air about her, especially in her last few months, as if even visits from her sons weren’t enough to lift her spirits anymore. But maybe it was just that she had never had the chance of meeting that person at the other end of that thread. Or else, since she didn’t have Lan Xichen’s gift, she hadn’t known that person’s true value, and had gotten roped into another match that did not suit her. Unless it was for that person’s sake that she had committed the crime that Lan Xichen wasn’t supposed to know about, the murder that had caused him and his brother to be born even when they shouldn’t have.

Lan Xichen thought about his mother a lot in the weeks after she passed away. He was not as demonstrative as Lan Wangji about missing her, but the pain was still there and he didn’t know how to deal with it at all. It paralysed him sometimes, and he would spend half a day staring at the red thread on his hand, wondering how different things could have been for his mother, if she had only known better, if she’d gone to that other person, if Wangji and him had never been born. Maybe she would have been happy. Maybe she wouldn’t have died.

Maybe it would have been better for everyone, if Lan Xichen had never existed at all.

Those thoughts became so bad that his grief started to impact his cultivation, which was when Lan Qiren decided to intervene, and to find some distractions for Lan Xichen. He took his nephew along to a few conferences, hoping it might cheer him up. Lan Xichen, dutifully, tried to be entertained by all those old people discussing arcane cultivation techniques or chatting about politics, but it was very boring and just gave him more time to think about his mother.

He could have tried to go play with the children of those other sects, but grown-ups always praised him when he tried to stay with them and to act serious, so he figured playing would have been a bad thing. He was going to be a sect leader someday, anyway, and he had to be serious. If he wasn’t serious enough, then he’d disappoint his sect, as his father had done. Lan Xichen didn’t want to be a disappointment. And anyway, even when he did try to play with others, he was often too sad, so they would leave him behind and continue their games without him. It was better to stay with the grown-ups.

It went on like this for half a year, Lan Xichen withdrawing further and further upon himself, Lan Wangji stubbornly waiting daily in front of their mother’s prison to see her. Lan Qiren appeared to be at his wit’s end, which only made Lan Xichen feel worse. After having lost his mother, he started worrying that his uncle too would leave them, disappointed that his nephews refused to behave themselves. He tried, hard, to act as if things were fine again, as if he didn’t miss his mother at all, but it was all for naught. Even if he could sometimes fool those who only knew him in passing, his cultivation was still suffering greatly from his too intense grief, and so Lan Qiren knew that things still weren’t right.

Out of other options, Lan Qiren decided that a longer change of habit might do his nephews good. Lan Xichen, privately, thought that it showed their uncle really didn’t understand Lan Wangji at times, because his brother thrived on habits and would be upset over any change. At the same time, Lan Qiren was older and knew better, of course. So Lan Xichen kept any remarks he might have had to himself, and nodded along to his uncle’s idea.

The place where Lan Qiren took them was a far away one, too far in fact for him to have taken Lan Xichen there to conferences before. Lan Qiren wasn’t the strongest of flyers, least of all when he had to carry along a boy of nearly ten years old. And yet he managed, with both his nephews riding his sword with him. Lan Xichen figured his uncle had to be really desperate, and he felt awful for causing so much trouble.

That place had an unpleasant name, an unpleasant look, and the disciples of that sect had an unpleasant air to them, grim and a little rough, completely unlike the people Lan Xichen was used to at home.

Privately, and as soon as he laid eyes upon the Unclean Realm, Lan Xichen found himself hoping that Lan Wangji would throw a tantrum and they’d have to go home soon. If he had to be miserable, he’d rather be miserable in a familiar place.

For the time being, they were welcomed at the gate by a very tall woman, taller than Lan Qiren or any of the disciples of her sect. She was Nie-furen, Lan Qiren explained as she guided them inside the Unclean Realm. The warning was appreciated. She really didn’t look much like the few women Lan Xichen had seen in his life, and wore men’s clothes. If he hadn’t been warned, he might have mistaken her for a man, though he would learn in the coming days that nearly all the women in the Unclean Realm dressed in that manner to be more efficient in Night Hunts. They only wore normal dresses for conferences, and only if they felt like it.

Nie-furen took them to a great hall where, seated upon a high and mighty throne, Nie-zongzhu greeted them with rather less effusions than Lan Xichen was used to from sect leaders, although that sober manner seemed to please Lan Qiren rather more than Jiang-zongzhu and Jin-zongzhu’s warmth.

Grown-ups were rather odd, and Lan Xichen didn’t quite have the capacity to reflect on that at the moment, too fascinated by the sight of Nie-zonghu.

Certainly, there was a lot to be fascinated by, when confronted by such a man. Although he was a little shorter than his wife when he eventually stood up, he was at least twice as broad, with hands so large that they could probably have wrapped around Lan Xichen’s shoulders and still have length to spare. None of that really mattered to Lan Xichen though. What really caught his attention was a detail that others wouldn’t have seen.

Nie-zongzhu had two red threads hanging from his hand.

Upon seeing this, Lan Xichen, who had struggled to feel anything for months and months now, was overcome with irrational anger. How unfair was it for that man to have two people fated to him, when his own parents had been denied such a happy fate? Sure, upon looking more closely, Lan Xichen realised that one appeared to have been severed. It had to have been rather recent, since its colour had only started its slow transformation toward the dull white it would become when the worst of the grief was over. Still, that man had had two fated lovers, when Lan Xichen’s mother had never lived with hers, when his father had been forced to accept the shadow of a love that could never be his.

How very unfair. Lan Xichen would have cried from rage if it wouldn’t have been disgraceful for his sect.

“And how long do you want to stay here then?” Nie-zongzhu asked, continuing a conversation that Lan Xichen hadn’t paid attention to.

“I was thinking a week to start,” Lan Qiren replied. “If it seems to be having positive effects, and if Nie-zongzhu has no objections, I’ll return to the Cloud Recesses and come back in a month or two to get them back.”

Nie zongzhu nodded, as did his wife.

“It’ll be good for our boys as well,” he said. “Huaisang hasn’t been the same either lately… not that I expect your boys to spend much time with him anyway. From what you’ve said about them, I think they’ll get along more with Mingjue, even with the age difference. Which is good too. He needs friends, that child.”

Nie-furen rolled her eyes at these words, and glared at her husband. He glared right back, and though there seemed to be no heat or anger between them, Lan Xichen still shivered at the intensity of emotion displayed there, right in front of outsiders. Things like that just didn’t happen at home, at least not in his experience. But then again, he’d never been in the same room as both his parents, so what did he know?

“Well, I guess that’s settled,” Nie-furen grumbled. “I’ll take those two to the training grounds so you can have a chat about politics. Don’t forget to tell Qiren about that thing that happened the other month at the border, I really didn’t like that.”

Without waiting for an answer, Nie-furen walked to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, grabbing both of them by the hand to lead them out of the hall. Lan Wangji tried to pull away, but stopped quickly after one severe look from Nie-furen who probably mistook his disgust for rebellion, the way some teachers did at home. Lan Wangji looked very miserable over being touched that way by a complete stranger, and Lan Xichen knew already that the rest of the day wasn’t going to be a good one for his little brother. He sighed. When Lan Wangji was having a bad day, everyone was having a bad day.

Feeling depressed over this situation, Lan Xichen’s gaze dropped to the ground. After just a few steps, his eyebrows rose high on his forehead as he realised that for some reason, they were following his red thread, something that had never happened before.

After years and years of seeing his own thread go far into the distance, Lan Xichen had stopped paying attention to it. Whenever he’d travelled with his uncle, the thread had always gone in a different direction from the one they were headed. At the venerable age of ten, Lan Xichen had determined that he was never going to meet the person fated for him. Considering his family’s luck with love, and after hearing his uncle’s many complaints on the topic, Lan Xichen usually thought it was for the best.

And yet, in spite of himself, Lan Xichen felt a little excitement start to spike inside his chest the longer they followed his thread. Things had been terrible for so long, but if he could just have one good thing again…

That excitement rose ever higher when Nie-furen called out her sons’ names, and Lan Xichen first laid eyes on Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue was a few years older than him, and a good deal taller too. He had the same hard eyes his mother had, and broad shoulders like his father. Lan Xichen had never really taken the time to wonder what he liked as far as others’ appearance went, but even he could only acknowledge that Nie Mingjue was a very handsome teenager, and one who very obviously already had a golden core. Combined with the things he’d heard here and there people say about Nie gongzi…

To Lan Xichen’s great joy, the red thread on his finger really was going toward Nie Mingjue, which sent his heart racing… until Nie Mingjue was close enough for his hand to be visible, and Lan Xichen realised there was no thread at all attached to the older boy. Instead, his own thread continued going behind Nie Mingjue, and toward another boy who was struggling to run as fast as Nie-gongzi, his round face all red from the effort.

Everything Nie Mingjue was, that boy wasn’t. He was small, a little scrawny, with ears too big for his face and his teeth looked all weird, perhaps because they were a mix of baby teeth, adult ones, and a lot of gaps where the adult teeth hadn’t yet started to grow.

Whatever spark of joy and hope Lan Xichen had felt quickly dissipated upon seeing the person whom fate had chosen for him. He should have known he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Mingjue, these boys are Lan Huan and Lan Zhan,” Nie-furen announced. “They are the sons of Lan zongzhu, and will be staying here for a little while. I’ll leave them in your care, so be a good host.”

Nie Mingjue nodded nonchalantly, apparently not particularly impressed by his mother’s severe appearance. The same could not be said of the second boy who went very still when Nie-furen turned her attention to him.

“Huaisang, for once, be good as well and don’t cause trouble. Don’t bother them, and don’t create problems when others have decided what game they want to play, or else I’ll deal with you.”

“Yes, mother,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, giving his mother a half hearted bow. “If they’re here, does it mean we don’t have to train today?”

“You lazy boy, of course that’s your only worry!” Nie-furen sighed, trying not to smile. “It will be up to your guest, depending whether they’re interested in a demonstration or not. You’d better put in some real effort if they do.”

Nie Huaisang bowed again, but not quickly enough to hide a grimace. Worse still, when Nie-furen left, Nie Huaisang immediately stuck out his tongue in her direction, which scandalised both Lan boys.

Lan Xichen in particular felt his heart sink. If this was the person who was destined to share his life… it seemed like a fate even worse than his father’s, and it almost made him want to cry. He would have, if not for Nie Mingjue’s presence. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of an older boy this accomplished, his pride just wouldn’t survive it.

“Stop being a brat,” Nie Mingjue ordered his brother, lightly slapping the back of Nie Huaisang’s head. This, in turn, made him bite his tongue, hard enough to cry a little.

“Mean! Da-ge is the worst!”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, all of his attention on the Lan brothers. Lan Xichen tried to stand as tall as he could, to make himself look older than he was.

“So, you’re Lan Huan, uh?” Nie Mingjue asked. “My father says he’s seen you at some conferences, and that you’re always very well behaved. He’s always saying we should be more like that. I guess that’s why you’ve been invited here?”

There was something in Nie Mingjue’s tone of voice that seemed to imply that ‘well behaved’ wasn’t a good thing to be. Lan Xichen, who worked so hard to meet all the expectations of his uncle even when he was so constantly sad and empty, felt baffled by the idea. A little embarrassed as well. He so wanted Nie Mingjue to think he was cool too, but apparently he had failed before even having the chance to prove himself.

“Do you know how to fight?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Or are you still too young for that?”

“I’m ten,” Lan Xichen retorted with perhaps a little more annoyance than was really polite. “Of course I know how to fight. But I didn’t bring a sword for a demonstration, and Qinghe Nie uses sabres, so I can’t borrow something to spar with you.”

“As if you’d be good enough to spar with da-ge anyway,” Nie Huaisang claimed, earning himself another light slap on the head from his brother. “What? It’s true! Nobody’s better than you. You can even fight with grown-ups already, and everyone says the Lans are just a bunch of monks that only play music, and…”

“Huaisang, shut up,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “I swear I’ll tell mother if you keep insulting our guests.”

“I’m not insulting… oh. I was rude?”

Nie Mingjue nodded, which made Nie Huaisang look a little awkward.

“Spar with me, Lan Huan” Nie Mingjue decided. “We do have some swords, for training. It’s always good to know how to use more than one weapon. Come with me, we’ll find you something.”

Maybe Lan Qiren had been onto something with his idea of coming to this strange place, because for the first time in ages, Lan Xichen found himself feeling genuinely excited about something. He was going to spar, with an older boy, and one that looked really cool, and who wasn’t even acting like it’d be a chore to practice with someone younger.

It was fun, fighting with Nie Mingjue. The sword Lan Xichen had been given wasn’t great, nothing at all like the one he used at home, but even with an inferior weapon he held his own. Nie Mingjue had the advantage of size, training, and experience, but Lan Xichen’s smaller size could be an advantage too, and he almost landed a few blows, for which Nie Mingjue complimented him.

It had been a long while since a compliment really thrilled him.

They sparred for a long while. Longer perhaps than was quite wise, considering that Lan Xichen hadn’t trained very seriously that past year. Even as he grew tired and started making mistakes, Lan Xichen refused to give up, desperate to absorb every little bit of fun he could while the feeling lasted. He didn’t even mind when Nie Mingjue started pushing him into a corner of the training field, clearly on the verge of winning their friendly fight.

Lan Xichen didn’t mind, but Lan Wangji did.

He was always a bit of an odd child, wary of strangers, protective of family. If Lan Xichen had not been so taken by his match with Nie Mingjue, he would have noticed his brother’s growing distress about the fight, would have seen that Nie Huaisang wasn’t paying attention to Lan Wangji (nor the fight for that matter), that there was no adults around them to check what they were doing. He would have reacted faster when Lan Wangji ran onto the training field, would have deflected Nie Mingjue’s sabre to protect him.

Lan Xichen would have…

He didn’t.

Because it was only a friendly spar, and because Nie Mingjue was so skilled, he managed, just barely, to avoid inflicting any serious injury onto Lan Wangji. Still the little boy now had a bleeding gash on his forearm, spilling blood in a thin but steady flow.

"I'll take him to the doctor," Nie Mingjue announced, picking up Lan Wangji as if he weighed nothing. It said a lot about Wangji's shock that he didn't try to escape and just kept uselessly pressing his hand on the wound, wailing like a miserable kitten. "Huaisang, stay here with Lan Huan. If someone comes looking for us, tell them what happened."

Nie Huaisang, who'd just trotted toward them when he'd heard shouting, rose on his toes to catch a glimpse of Wangji’s wound.

"Is he going to die?" he asked. "That's a lot of blood, and mommy says…"

"Shut up, you're rude again," Nie Mingjue snapped.

Nie Huaisang flinched and stepped away, falling silent. Nie Mingjue left, all but running away with poor Lan Wangji in his arms while Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang stood there, watching him disappear.

When Nie Mingjue was out of view, Nie Huaisang grabbed Lan Xichen's hand and tried to drag him away.

"Let's go, it's boring here."

Lan Xichen tried to pull his hand free. He was less difficult than his brother, but they shared a dislike of being touched by strangers, which Nie Huaisang was. Even if they were linked by fate… In fact, because they were linked by fate, because Nie Huaisang had joined their hands that carried that horrible red thread, Lan Xichen was even less inclined than usual to let himself be touched.

“He said to wait here,” he complained, pulling hard to get free, in vain. Nie Huaisang was small and skinny, but he had a strong grip. “We can’t disobey.”

“Yes we can,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s easy, I disobey all the time. And mother said we had to be good hosts. It’s too boring to stay here, so I’ll take you somewhere more fun. Do you like candies?”

“Sugar is bad for you,” Lan Xichen recited. He did like candies, very much so. His uncle said candies were bad for his health and for his teeth, but his mother always used to give him some anyway.

He hadn’t had any candies since she’d died.

That thought, combined with fear about Lan Wangji’s wound, finished ruining Lan Xichen’s fragile good mood.

“Mommy used to say it’s only bad if you have too much,” Nie Huaisang protested. He pulled again on Lan Xichen’s hand. “Do you like birds?”

The question surprised Lan Xichen. He had never really taken time to wonder if he liked birds or not. Nobody had ever asked before.

“They’re pretty. I guess I like them well enough.”

“I love birds,” Nie Huaisang announced proudly. “Do you want to see a raven’s nest? There’s chicks in it, and they are very ugly, it’s very cute.”

“Things can’t be ugly and cute at the same time.”

“Yes they can. You have to come and see the chicks, and then you’ll understand. Let’s go check on them, please?”

Lan Xichen hesitated. Nie Mingjue had told them to stay where they were, implying that adults would soon come to check on them. After that incident with Wangji, it was almost certain that Lan Qiren would realise his plan was not going to work, and that he would take his nephews back home right away. Lan Xichen wanted to go home. Home was very sad, but it was also very safe, and he didn’t have to feel any big emotions over there.

But if they went home as soon as adults came to fetch them, that meant Lan Xichen would not have a chance to see those raven chicks. It would be upsetting, because then he would spend the rest of his life wondering how any creature could be both ugly and cute.

“Is it very far from here?” Lan Xichen asked.

Nie Huaisang grinned, and pulled again on Lan Xichen’s hand who stopped resisting and followed at last.

“It’s really close,” Nie Huaisang claimed as they walked. “It’s in the gardens by my bedroom. Do you like flowers? We have very nice flowers there. It’s not the best season for it, but dad planted mulberries there for mommy and me. Because of what she called me, you know?”

“You talk a lot,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “Do you need to hold my hand?”

“You could get lost,” Nie Huaisang replied, and then tried to be quiet for a moment.

It was true that Lan Xichen might have gotten lost easily in that place. It felt very different from the Cloud Recesses, with walls and turns everywhere, more a fortress than a place for cultivation. Maybe it was better that Nie Huaisang kept holding his hand. He’d gotten used to it anyway, and already stopped minding. In fact, it was even a little nice. Wangji used to hold his hand a lot when they went places, but his hatred of others’ touch had become too intense in that past year.

“You said it wasn’t very far,” Lan Xichen remarked after a while, growing worried that maybe their escape would be noticed and they’d be punished.

“We’re almost there,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Just a little further… I had to take a different way than usual so mother wouldn’t see us. This is a secret way she doesn’t know about. You have to promise you won’t tell!”

“You shouldn’t keep secrets from your mother.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged, and kept pulling Lan Xichen forward.

“It’s okay, it’s not actually bad if I keep secrets,” he said. “She’s not my real mother anyway. She’s just dad’s wife.”

“I don’t understand,” Lan Xichen said, which was almost entirely a lie.

He thought he understood, but it couldn’t be that. If it was what he was thinking about, then surely Nie Huaisang wouldn’t speak so freely about it. Things like that… the adults didn’t speak about them, and the children weren’t supposed to know anything at all about them. It was gossip, and gossip was forbidden.

Nobody must have told that to Nie Huaisang, who cheerfully chattered on.

“It’s like this: Mother isn’t my real mother,” he explained. “She married dad when they were both young. Then she had Mingjue, and he’s the real son that matters. But then dad had me with my real mommy, because he met her on a Night Hunt and she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and also she called him some very bad words when he acted like an idiot, so he fell in love with her even if he was married. And then… ah, that’s the garden!”

At last, after turning endlessly among grey walls, they had indeed reached a little oasis of green. It was a very pretty little garden, neatly kept and organised around one very tall tree. Lan Xichen guessed the nest had to be somewhere up there.

He badly wanted to see it, now that they had come all that way, but Nie Huaisang was still chatting and it would have been rude to interrupt.

“It was real nice when I lived with mommy and my aunt and uncle,” Nie Huaisang said, walking toward the tree, still pulling Lan Xichen by the hand. “But then a while ago mommy got sick real bad, so dad brought us here because cultivators have better doctors. But then she died anyway, and my uncle didn’t want me back even though I thought he liked me, but actually he didn’t because mom having me when she wasn’t married was real bad? I don’t get it, but it’s what da-ge says must have happened, and da-ge is always right. So dad said I should be taught to be a cultivator, and now I’m stuck here.”

Nie Huaisang paused for breath and sighed deeply. “I really miss mommy.”

“I miss my mother too,” Lan Xichen said without thinking. “She died last year.”

Nie Huaisang froze, and threw him a terrified look.

“Was I rude again? I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have talked about mommy.”

Lan Xichen gave the question some consideration before shaking his head.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I don’t get to talk about her a lot,” he confessed. “Uncle and her didn’t get along. I think he was very angry at her sometimes, so I don’t want to bother him.”

“Mother is angry at dad about me,” Nie Huaisang said, as if sharing some great wisdom. “Da-ge says mother still likes me, though. But also that I shouldn’t talk too much about my real mommy, and also I shouldn’t call her my real mommy because it hurts mother. Oh! But I’m not angry at your mommy, and you’re not angry at mine. If you want you can tell me about her! And I’ll tell you about mine?”

It was a very tempting offer. Lan Xichen missed his mother so much it hurt every time he thought about her, and he was indeed thinking about her most of the time. He’d always been thinking a lot about her, even before she got sick and died. He’d missed her even when she was alive, he sometimes thought. But he couldn’t have told that to anyone. His father never wanted to see them unless it was important or a holiday, and Lan Qiren really didn’t like hearing anyone talk about his sister-in-law, and Wangji… Wangji still missed her so bad, he still didn’t really understand that she was gone for ever, so Lan Xichen didn’t say anything for fear of making things harder for his brother.

Maybe it was fine to talk to Nie Huaisang.

“She was sick a long time,” Lan Xichen explained, letting his eyes fall to the ground. “But even when she was sick, she would still try to be nice to us. She’d read us stories. Then she got really too sick, and it was me who read stories for her and for Wangji. Then the month after we were told we couldn’t visit her like usual, and I heard people say she’d died.”

“You didn’t live with her?”

“No, of course not,” Lan Xichen said, which earned him a look of horror from Nie Huaisang, as if he’d said his mother had two heads. “Nobody lives with their mother.”

“Yes they do!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “I lived with my mommy my whole life until she died! Everyone lives with their mommies. How else is she going to give you a kiss before sleep?”

“She didn’t.”

Nie Huaisang gasped. “But then you’re not protected!”

“Protected against what?”

Nie Huaisang threw Lan Xichen a pitying look, as if that were the saddest thing he’d ever heard.

“Against the nightmares! You have to have a kiss before sleep,” Nie Huaisang explained in a very serious tone, like a teacher giving a lesson, “or else you’re going to have bad dreams. It’s most efficient if it’s your mommy who does it, of course. Dad does it too sometimes, but he’s busy and I don’t like his moustache anyway because it scratches my cheek, and also he doesn’t give as good protection. Now it’s mostly da-ge who gives me a good night kiss. He complains a lot, and he tickles me sometimes, but it’s really good for protecting, almost as good as mommy.”

A little dark ball of cold and hot formed over Lan Xichen’s heart at the idea that in this world, at least one person had had constant access to their own mother, to her hugs, to her kisses, to her soft words. And maybe it wasn’t just Nie Huaisang who’d been that lucky: after all, Nie-furen had welcomed them alongside her husband, she had chatted with Nie Mingjue quite easily, and seemed free to come and go as she pleased even though she was the sect leader’s wife. Maybe it was a Nie thing.

But now that he thought of it, everywhere his uncle had taken him that past year, sect leaders would welcome their guests in person, with their wives at their side if they had one.

Maybe it wasn’t that children living with their mothers was a Nie thing.

Maybe it was Wangji and him not seeing their mother more than once a month that was odd, just as it was odd for their parents to not be linked by fate, the way so many other married people were.

Lan Xichen didn’t know when he started crying. He only realised when Nie Huaisang squeezed his hand, and tried to wipe his face with his sleeve, looking as if he might cry too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude!” he cried out, scrubbing Lan Xichen’s cheeks a little too hard, unaware of his own strength. “I always say the wrong thing like that. I don’t even understand what I say that’s bad, but people always get angry and say I’m insolent and rude. But I didn’t want to be rude! Can I do something so you’ll stop crying?”

“I miss my mother,” Lan Xichen sobbed.

He’d hoped that talking about her would make it hurt less, but it hadn’t worked. He still missed her as much, but now he also had to deal with the realisation that if his family hadn’t been so strange, he might have seen her a lot more before she died.

“Oh. Then I guess it’s okay to cry,” Nie Huaisang said, giving up on drying Lan Xichen’s face and instead squeezing his hand again. “I cry a lot too about mommy. Everyone says I shouldn’t, because it was long ago and because boys shouldn’t cry. But da-ge lets me cry and he doesn’t tell anyone. I won’t tell either, I promise!”

Lan Xichen tried to thank Nie Huaisang, but only ended up sobbing harder. His face was awash with tears and snot, his eyes and throat hurt from crying so hard, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. Except for the day he’d heard his mother had died, and a little at the funeral too, he hadn’t really cried in all that time. He’d just felt numb and cold. He’d felt as if nothing really mattered, not in a world where his mother wasn’t there to smile at him anymore.

After such a long time feeling so little, there was a twisted joy in giving in to his sorrow, in crying until there were no tears left in him, until he couldn’t even stand anymore and Nie Huaisang had to help him sit under that big tree.

The whole time Lan Xichen cried, Nie Huaisang stayed silent. He shed a few tears of his own, either out of sympathy or because he’d been reminded that his mother too was gone for good, but didn’t say a word.

He also didn’t let go of Lan Xichen’s hand, not even one moment, even though there was no risk of getting lost now. Lan Xichen was grateful for that. In the midst of the immense sorrow that had finally overcome him, it was nice to know he wasn’t alone.

After a long, long while, Lan Xichen calmed down at last. He was hiccuping a little, and felt a little bit of headache on his forehead, but other than that he felt better than he had in a long while. Not good, not yet, but better.

“It was a good big cry,” Nie Huaisang said when it was over. “Sometimes, you need a good big cry, da-ge says. Do you want to go back now?”

Lan Xichen wiped his face clean, or as close to clean as it was ever going to be without some fresh water to help.

It was already late, he figured, and by then people had to have noticed they had disobeyed Nie Mingjue’s order to stay put. They were going to be punished for that. Lan Xichen didn’t like being punished, but he also felt that since it was going to happen anyway, he might as well try to make it worth the future discomfort.

“I think I’d like to see those baby ravens now,” he told Nie Huaisang, who grinned as if he’d been given all his favourite candies at once.

“Yes! But we’ll have to climb up the tree. Do you know how?”

Lan Xichen shook his head. Tree climbing wasn’t part of the official curriculum of Gusu Lan.

“It’s fine, I’ll teach you,” Nie Huaisang offered. “I’m very good at it, because da-ge taught me how.”

“He seems like a good da-ge,” Lan Xichen remarked as he stood up.

“There’s no better da-ge in the whole entire world,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “He is always grumpy, but he gives me hugs and also he lets me have all his mushrooms and sometimes he shares his desserts with me. If you want, I can share him with you. But he’s my da-ge first, so don’t forget!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal him,” Lan Xichen promised, though he would have dearly liked a hug, and also maybe some dessert.

For the time being, Lan Xichen contented himself with Nie Huaisang’s explanation on how to climb a tree. It turned out that it wasn’t too hard, especially not for someone with martial art training, so Lan Xichen quickly got the hang of it and followed Nie Huaisang high up that tree.

The raven chicks really were extremely ugly, but Lan Xichen had to admit that they were also strangely cute. Nie Huaisang and him were laughing together about it when Nie-Furen and Lan Qiren found them. They’d been sitting on a branch for so long that it was very nearly night, and they had to be rescued. Nie Huaisang might have been very good at climbing trees, but it turned out that he still hadn’t learned how to get back down except by falling, or by having his brother climb up to get him.

Since Nie Mingjue wasn’t there, it had to be Lan Qiren who went up to grab them. He looked very cross about it, which scared Lan Xichen at first. Then he noticed that Nie Huaisang was struggling not to giggle, and… and it was true that Lan Qiren was making a very funny face as he went up the tree, so Lan Xichen found himself laughing as well.

They were both still laughing when they hopped down from Lan Qiren’s shoulders onto the ground. Surely this insolence, combined with their earlier disobedience of Nie Mingjue’s order, should have gotten them punished. Indeed Nie-furen appeared in favour of that, but Lan Qiren looked at his nephew in a funny way before asking Nie-furen for leniency.

“I haven’t heard him laugh in all that time,” Lan Qiren explained, and immediately Nie-furen’s anger cooled down a little.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad in the Unclean Realm after all, Lan Xichen thought as they all walked away together to go have dinner. And maybe it would be okay that he was apparently linked by fate to someone like Nie Huaisang.

Lan Xichen was glad when his uncle told him that night before bed that since Lan Wangji’s wound was nothing bad at all, that their plan hadn’t changed and they would be staying a little while in the Unclean Realm for a change of air.

After all, Nie Mingjue had just promised Huaisang, Wangji, and him that he’d teach them how to climb down from trees, and that would surely be great fun.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #nie mingjue #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #This was supposed to be a valentine fic looooool #but I'm trying to clean out my wip list during random bursts of energy

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poptod · 4 years ago

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A Special Kind of Attention (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The young Prince, who you are in the employ of, enjoys playing pranks and generally tormenting you.

Notes: pretty heavily implied male reader, but its still gender neutral! if you ever wanted to dom ahk, heres your chance to live vicariously through your imagination. ahk has some major bde in this fic WC: 3.6k

*- this is a reference to a wellknown myth at the time. basically, its saying he should stick cum up his ass (and thus label himself a bottom)

No matter how much sweat had gathered on the back of his sun-burned neck, he comforted himself with the fact that this would be, in the end, very much worth the work. Below his clinging hands, the bag sloshed with well water. He had passed by you earlier in the morning, as you stood guard outside the city gates, your attention unwavering from your duty. The sight of you followed by a well brought an idea into his head, and he decided seeing you drenched in water would be a fun activity.

He'd done worse before, to be fair––always to you, never to any of the other soldiers, and certainly not any civilians. By now you must've grown some deep seated resentment for him, but you never let it show. That was part of the fun––seeing just how far he could go before you lost it.

Keeping his back pressed to the wall of the entrance, he snuck up behind you, careful to keep slow so the swishing water didn't give him away. With one great heave, he moved to the tips of his toes and dunked the bag over your head, sprinting off with maniac laughter as you shouted, yanking the bag off just to see him disappear. From a distance he watched how your skin glistened, and how he could very nearly see through your clothes.

Unbeknownst to you but known to him, you would see each other later tonight––the soldiers were being rotated again, meaning the soldiers by the Nile were to protect the palace, and the palace soldiers would take over observation of the outer markets. Ahk grinned to himself, imagining you looking over dinner. It wasn't often that he got to see your behavior in front of the Pharaoh, but each time was such a treat, watching you keep perfect posture and composure as he teased you any way he could imagine.

That night, he eyed you from his seat at the long dining table. You were positioned in front of the entrance of the hall, opposite another soldier, whose name he didn't care to remember. As always you kept your chin high, eyes trained on a distant wall.

He stared for as long as he could, and when at last your own gaze wavered to meet his, he winked, biting his lip with a smile. You turned away immediately, flushed with warmth.

"You're quiet this evening," said the Pharaoh, his attention directed to Ahk, who turned with wide, surprised eyes.

"Apologies," Ahk said as he returned to his dinner. "I did a lot of studying today, so my mind is a little... flighty, right now."

"I didn't see you in the library," Kamun said, raising a single, accusatory brow.

"I went to Osiris' temple to practice my handwriting," Ahk returned curtly, a quick and succinct statement that was as effective as it was fake.

"Good man," his father said with a smile. "Taking initiative. Why don't you ever do that, Kamun?"

Kamun, the eldest brother, seethed in his spot but said nothing. He was the least charismatic of the four brothers and also the most dedicated, which was an unfortunate combination for a man as prideful as him. All the work he did was brushed away, always dulled out by his younger brothers' accomplishments, yet he very rarely mentioned his own anger in front of his parents. No, most of the time it came out when Ahk was alone.

That was how you found him after dinner; his face shoved against the coarse wall, arm twisted painfully high behind him. Kamun had a knee in his back, keeping him pinned there.

"Admit it was a lie, brother," the elder hissed, readjusting his grip on Ahk's head to bang it harder against the stone.

"Go stick a head of lettuce up your ass*," Ahk said, laughing at his own joke until Kamun knocked his head against the wall again, a hollow thud coming from his skull.

You cleared your throat and both their struggling ceased, the two parting from each other.

"Good evening, my Princes," you said quietly, stepping nearer till you faced them both. The muscles in the back of your hand rippled as you strengthened your hold on your spear.

"Hello," Ahk said dully as Kamun stormed off, his hands balled into fists even when he disappeared around the corner of the hall.

You watched as Ahk rubbed at his sore arm, massaging away the strain.

"You know, he wouldn't do that if you weren't such an asshole to him," you said offhand, looking down at his injury with an unimpressed expression.

"Why are you nice to me then?"

"If I wasn't, I would get my head chopped off," you reminded him.

"Oh," he grumbled. "Right."

"I'm sure you don't need an escort to your room. Good night," you said, turning to leave before a hand grasped your upper arm, whirling you back around.

"He knocked my head pretty hard," he said with a dazed, shit-eating grin you knew all too well. "Might need some help."

You very nearly groaned audibly, but you managed to keep it behind your lips. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, was all––besides, this wouldn't take long, and you would be able to retire to your quarters, which had recently been moved into the palace. You comforted yourself with that thought as you silently walked down the halls.

Ahk being shorter than you did little to make you feel less humiliated. Actually, it only worked to make you feel worse, being bossed around by someone both younger and smaller than you. You supposed that was how most people felt when children were made Pharaoh.

"So," Ahk began, his hands behind his back, "how's your day gone?"

"Someone threw a bag of water over my head that disturbed several of the market stalls, and many merchants got angry. So we had a tussle outside the city," you recounted blandly, your eyes straight ahead despite the wealth of expressions coming from the man beside you.

"Sounds like someone made your day interesting," he said along with a smile, neither of which you replied to in any way.

By the time you made it to the double doors of Ahk's bedroom, your grip on your spear was so tight you were surprised it hadn't snapped in half yet. You helped him open the doors, weapon still in hand, and kept the doors open as he stepped inside.

"Good night, m-"

"It's still early, why don't you join me?" He asked, tilting his chin upwards with a cocky look in his eye.

"I really should -"

"Come," he ordered, beckoning you over.

Again you bit the inside of your cheek, and followed him in, letting the door slowly swing shut behind you.

"You want to know something I admire about you?" Ahk said as he wandered into his room, leaving you in the middle while he searched his bookcase.

"What's that, sir?" You asked, despite not wanting to know in the slightest.

"You've got quite the resolve," he said, turning back to you with two chalices and one jug. "Haven't seen it break yet."

"Well, I was trained in Thebes, sir. They're thorough with their teachings."

The prince handed one of the cups to you, pouring red wine that sloshed and bubbled as it landed in the goblet. He filled his own glass before setting away the jug. With that he clinked his cup against yours, the empty tink ringing in the silence. He drew a long sip, his eyes trained on yours, and remaining so even as he lowered his cup.

"Tell me about your family," the Prince said.

"I'm not sure how that's relevant to anything."

"Come now, you know all about my family--"

Who doesn't, you thought.

"––and I think it's only fair I know something about yours."

"Do you ask this of all your soldiers?" You asked as you took another sip of red wine.

"Just the handsome ones," he replied, stepping closer with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

"I don't think I need to remind you that you shouldn't be fraternizing with your employees," you said flatly.

"Mm, you're good at deflecting questions, aren't you?"

"I'm good at staying focused."

"Still... what's going on with your family that you're ever so reluctant to share anything about them?" He asked, taking another step towards you, that you now combated by taking a step backwards.

"... my sister got deported recently," you said, breaking from his gaze to look to the floor beside you. "I don't have any family besides her."

"I thought you were an Egyptian citizen?"

"I am. She isn't. She was born down south, a few years before I was born here, in Memphis. Our parents died a little while back but they would've been deported too."

"She is older than you though, isn't she? I'm sure she can take care of herself," Ahk said as he swirled his cup.

"Yes. I know."

For politeness's sake you stayed a moment longer, took another swig from your cup, before setting it aside.

"If you don't need me, I should be getting back t––"

"Oh, but I do need you," he said, stepping closer, "if you don't mind."

You stumbled as your back hit the closed door behind you, feet fumbling to regain what balance you'd lost.

"Of course... sir," you said in a monotone voice, keeping your rushing adrenaline below the knot in your throat.

The younger prince had always been a bit eccentric––stories from your coworkers and various palace dwellers had told you so. He generally did whatever he wanted, but his parents doted on him dearly, and he got away with just about everything. While it seemed a little unfair to not do the same for the eldest child, you did notice that while both siblings were passionate, Kamun was passionate in a more violent way, while Ahkmen was passionate in an undeniably flirtatious way. In the short amount of time you'd spent guarding the corridor for Ahk's room, you'd seen three different people sneaking out of his room multiple times. You had a responsibility not to become one of them.

Ahkmen circled you, stopping in front of a floor-length mirror that casted his reflection perfectly.

"My manservant got sores from work yesterday, so I sent him home early. But," he met his own gaze, "these clothes are near impossible to take off without help from another. Do you mind?"

Though the expression on your face remained a mute, dull expression, you could feel the flame burning in your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded even in the ends of your fingers, wrapped around your spear.

"... no. Of course, my prince," you said, your voice strikingly low and rough.

A pleased smile stretched across his lips as you approached, setting your spear aside against a wall. To be fair, he did genuinely need help––the beaded collar on his shoulders was latched far behind his back, and if he tried to reach it, he might tear the sleeves or break the collar. You reached for the tiny latch, pulling and releasing the two you found.

"There's one more, bit further down," he said, still watching his own reflection. You caught your own eyes peering over his shoulder, their dark sternness piercingly depressing beside the Prince's golden colors.

With a deep breath you pushed aside his long cape, calloused fingers reaching for the last latch. You accidentally brushed against the skin of his back, hot against your cold hands, which he certainly felt judging by the way his posture straightened and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"There," you said, stepping away. "Done."

"Thank you, dear," he said as he reached up, sliding the collar off his shoulders, his cape drifting off with it.

Sleeves soon followed and the whole of his chest was bared, graced by dark freckles and the golden bands still circling his thin wrists. You watched, unaware of your own staring, as he began to tug at his belt, pulling it off his hips. His skirt sagged, exposing his hips carelessly in front of you. Something as little as a deep breath had you shaking ever so slightly.

"Is that it, my Prince?"

"Here," he said, handing you his collar, and the attached cape and sleeves.

Golden fabric piled onto your arms, soon followed by his belt, golden wristbands, and the crown on his head. It was a good deal heavier than you would've imagined, and you wondered if it ever hurt.

Your thoughts on the crown were ripped away from you, leaving your mind a blank, empty expanse the moment his skirt fell to the floor. If he noticed your stupor, he didn't say anything. Instead he simply gathered up the cloth and handed it to you, padding nude to his desk, upon which he opened a box made especially for his gold wristbands. He pulled them off, leaving him blank of identification.

As he turned, he finally caught your eye, but couldn't keep it for long. Your eyes darted back to the ground, wide with the morbid feeling stewing in your head and chest. He chuckled.

"You can set those in my wardrobe," he said, stepping towards his bed and kneeling upon it.

You dutifully obeyed, trying to get a grasp on your shaky breathing before you had to turn and face him again. Folding and taking care of clothes was absolutely not one of your skills, but you tried your best, and eventually returned to stand in front of the kneeling Prince.

He wasn't terribly muscular, more lean, but you could still see thin muscles peeking through the dark skin. Along his clavicle were two freckles––similarly, long eyelashes led to the freckles lining his cheekbones, still dusted with an earlier blush. There was no denying he was a handsome man, though that was no excuse to give into such urges. You could hardly admit to your own desires, much less act on them, which kept you from moving at all.

"A little while ago you informed me that you have no partner," he said softly, still looking you directly in the eyes.

"Yes."

"Is that still so?"

"Yes," you said. "I like to keep to myself."

A touch against your exposed thigh had you jerking backwards, a strangled grunt coming halfway out your mouth.

"No one will have to know," he murmured, dragging his touch up your sensitive skin, long untouched for most of your waking years.

Your first instinct was to pull away, which you did do at first, but the flat expanse of his palm pressing on your thigh had you rooted to the spot. Most everything in you froze, shock and surprise filling your head. Still, you tried to keep a calm expression, and gave little away.

"Is this what you wanted?" You asked.

His grin just widened, teeth digging into his bottom lip and pulling till it released, soft and red.

"Why am I your victim in all your... hijinks?"

"Well," he chuckled, "you're awfully pretty, and you won't pay any attention to me if I don't."

Seeing as you weren't struggling, he took to pulling on your belt, shifting back on the bed to make space for you. Your lack of movement was no invitation, but he must've taken it as such. One harsh tug had you stumbling forward, balancing yourself with one knee on the mattress, your hands open to catch yourself.

"Sir, I am not permitted –"

"Shhhhh," he hummed, his hand moving lightning fast to catch you by your chin, pulling you closer yet till your noses nearly touched. "Your Prince asks this of you."

The slightest movement from him––eyes fluttering shut, neck craning forward––and he was kissing you, plump lips moving as soft as rose petals against you. Warmth gathered everywhere, growing in your breath, in your moving lips, building and building till the tension became nearly too much. You tried to move backwards, oversensitive and overstimulated. But the Prince wouldn't let you––he simply held you tighter, dug his hands into your hair, and pulled you forward so forcefully you landed on top of him, your weight meeting his heat.

That heat was recognizable even through the material of your skirt, pressing against your hip. As unfortunate as it was, you could feel your own excitement growing within you, sending warmth to your face and your thighs.

"Fuck," you mumbled, mostly to yourself, when Ahk finally let you breathe.

"What?" He asked softly, petting your hair as he did his best to keep you close to him. His legs wrapped around you, the hand on your cheek keeping you facing him.

"I told myself I wouldn't do this," you said, still quiet and gruff.

"So you expected this?"

"I knew it was a possibility," you said flatly.

"Good," he said with a smile you couldn't quite understand. "That means you're prepared for this."

Before you could ask what he meant, his feet were pushing your skirt down your hips, the white linen quickly dropping to the floor. You didn't do the knot as tight as you should've this morning.

"Ahkmen ––"

"Mm, I like that," he said, grinning sly as ever. Your expression contorted with confusion, so he continued with, "I like when you say my name."

Very rarely did you ever refer to any of the royal family by their first name. Technically you could call the Pharaoh by his Horus name, but simply calling them by their status had always been easier than remembering names.

Your shock once more worked to your demise, or at least the demise of your self respect. The young prince flipped you over while you were unaware of yourself, pinning you to the bed with his hips sat on yours, directing your hands to circle his waist as he kissed you deep once more. A muffled grunt came from you, fingers instinctively digging into him.

I'm being seduced by a Prince, you thought miserably. I feel like I should be happier about this.

"I want you to use your mouth on me," he mumbled between rough kisses, taking what pleasure he wanted from you. "Wanna see what that quiet tongue can do."

He reached down to stroke his own length pressed against your stomach, leaking and hard from the tension he'd grown. Your breath caught in your throat again, unable to dislodge itself as you stared, mesmerized by the pulse of his chest and hum of his soft moans.

"Can you do that for me?" He asked as he began to grind against you.

Holy fuck, you thought, wide eyes taking in his entirety. You could finish from his begging alone.

You gripped his hips, and in one, swift movement he was beneath you, his hand returning to touch himself. Before he could properly do so you batted his hand away, stalking down the bed till your face rested above his twitching hips. You kept his eye the whole time.

Wet already began to seep to the edge of your tongue, waiting for you to finally meet his cock. The arrogant young prince had you right where he wanted you, where you had tried so hard to avoid, and where he now kept you of your own free will.

The flat of your tongue ran a long stripe up him, drawing from him a long, relieved sigh. His head fell back, one of his knees kinking upwards. You watched his reactions carefully, kissing wet spots all up and down, catching whatever dripped down. On the prominent veins you sucked a little harder, making him hiss and his back arch upwards. Every movement he made you lapped up like you were starved.

Fingers soon dug into your hair, pulling and tugging whenever you graced his sensitive spots. Soon, ready for his lack of control, you wrapped your lips around the head, gently pulling and sucking with your tongue as you began to sink deeper.

"Fuck," he said emphatically, running his fingers through the locks of your hair before tugging hard.

Soon his cock nudged the back of your throat, stopping there as you tried to swallow him down. Twice you tried unsuccessfully, but as you calmed yourself, you could feel him thrust deeper yet into you, forcing into the back of your mouth and cutting of your breath. You moaned, albeit quite muffled, from the sensation. The hand on the back of your head kept you in place as he thrusted upwards, moans tumbling from his mouth as he used you.

Caught in his hold, you did your best not to gag, dutifully swallowing around him and breathing when you could. He grew steadily faster, with less rhythm and more force shoving into you. Your hands gripped his hips to hold yourself up better, but even as you tried to pull away, tears stinging your eyes, he kept you there, locked away in the throes of his own pleasure.

Your nose remained pressed to his hip as he came, a long, sweet trail of moans following what spurted into the back of your throat. With no give to pull yourself off and no possible way to open your mouth further, you swallowed what you were given.

The burning pull on your hair soon released as well, allowing you to sit up and away from the young Prince. He was still panting, his gaze cast lazily upwards, and hands gathering in his own messy hair.

"I got a little carried away there," he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing. "I apologize for that."

"Don't worry," you said as you grabbed his hips, pulling him close to you and flipping him over. By pulling him up on his knees, you shoved his head onto the mattress, the force of it drawing a gasp from him. "You'll make up for it."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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babybottlepop96 · 4 years ago

Text

Always: Shikamaru x Reader

Warnings: death, sadness, fluffy shit.

A/N: this one is about 2.2k words, it kinda got away from me lol enjoy and request!

Being Naruto Uzumaki's fraternal twin sister had its perks. I mean, the excessive amount of friends, ramen 24/7, always having a best friend that would be there for me and have my back no matter what but would also put me in my place if he had too. Being born five minutes after the infamous jinjuriki he was also so protective. Threatening any guy that would just have the nerve to flirt with me, the sister of the future Hokage.

We only had each other for so long, sure, our relationship took a bad turn for a while. While he was usually ignored and looked at as a monster, I didn't get the kind of treatment. Being the "normal" one of the twins, I was treated with more respect because I didn't have a tailed beast to host. I always felt awful for that and no matter how many times I stood up for my brother, he refused to accept my sympathy. The Chunin Exams came and went when he finally came to me after a few weeks of ignoring me. It was after Saskue had left and he was a mess. He cried into my shoulder and told me he was sorry. I just held him close and told him that I was never mad at him. I could never bead at him for how he felt about everything. It was unfair to him to be treated that badly, unfair that he had no say in being a host and I told him that he was so strong and had such a kind heart and people would eventually see that. I mean, they had to right? He was going to be the future Hokage.

When he left for those years with Jiryia, it was hard. It was like half of me was missing and I felt kind of lost without him. While he was out training, I had passed the Chunin and the Jonin exams. I was so proud of myself, but it would've felt even better if my twin was with me.

When he came home, I wasn't there to greet him. I was on business with the Kazekage. Gaara became a close friend, he accepted my friendship because he felt like he could trust me. He became like a little brother. And then everything happened with the Akatsuki and I ended up losing an arm trying to save a few children from a clay bomb. I laid in one of the beds while everyone was trying to get Gaara back and I felt like I failed. I was a fucking Jonin for kage sake and I couldn't protect or retrieve Gaara. It hit me hard.

When Temari, Sakura, Kakashi and Naruto arrived, they went straight to Kankauro. That poor boy was in such pain from the poison, it hurt my heart when I heard him scream from the extraction. I was so focused on not paying attention I hadn't realized Naruto had made his way over to me and held my left hand. Once I felt his hand touch mine, my eyes flew open and he had tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, (y/n)! I should've been here to protect you! I failed and I'm so sorry you got hurt." He his head dropped to the side of the bed and cried.

"Hey, hey it's okay Naruto. This shit happens you know that. And it is not your fault, okay? You had to go and train. This was just a mission that turned wrong. But you're here now! And I just know you're going to go after Gaara and bring him home. And I'll be rooting for your success.. believe it!" I smiled, small tear trails staining my own cheeks. He looked at me and gave a small smile.

After everything that happened at the sand and Gaara's return home, no longer a host for the one tail, things seemed to go somewhat better. I got a fake arm that works well with my chakra and I had been training non stop with all my friends. But I mostly spent time with one particular ninja the most. A cute, lazy Pineapple haired Nara. You see, Shikamaru and I had been close and dating for about a year at this point. We never particularly told anyone, but people seemed to know. Well, all except Naruto. He was so oblivious to it all, he didn't realize how close Shika and I were until Pein attacked the Hidden Leaf. So, that's where I'll begin this little tale.

~~~~~~~

"Shit shit shit!" I was running around trying to get civilians to safety, grabbing children and pushing other civilians towards the Hokage head mountain. A building was starting to crumble and fire and explosions were coming from everywhere it seemed. Once I felt like I got everyone I could I ran back to where the main event was happening. Thankfully Naruto wasn't here, I wouldn't even begin to imagine what they would do if they had captured him. I mean, they killed Gaara, but Lady Chio had that special secret jutsu that she took to the grave. I couldn't bear to lose my brother.

To fight was lasting so long, there was no way to tell when it would all be over. I was separated from Choji, Ino and Shikamaru when everything began. The three started fighting while I helped get the civilians to safety, but I knew they had to be around here. Alive. They just had to be. Things were seemingly going fine until I heard a small child scream. I snapped my head to the sound so fast I swore I got whiplash. A small girl was cowering against a wooden wall, the enemy heading toward her. I ran as fast as I could and snatched the girl away. I tossed her to the side gently and told her to run. She just looked at me, her big brown eyes filled with tears and a worried look on her face. "It's okay, you go to the mountains and find your family. Okay? Go!" She nodded and took off. I fought off the enemy for as long as I could. My chakra was running extremely low, so low that I wasn't able to dodge the wooden spear that came hurtling towards me. It went straight through my chest, pinning against the wooden wall behind me. I coughed up blood and my vision started to go a bit fuzzy.

"Your time is now over. You were a decent Shinoni, but you were still weak." The enemy spat out. I didn't say anything as I clutched the wooden spear that pinned me to the wall, trying to take in air. It felt like I was drowning, I could feel my lungs filling with blood and tears start to run down my face. I would never see my friends again, see my brothers happy go lucky smile while down bowl after bowl of ramen. I would never be able to Shika that I loved him. Everything was fading to black, my head dropped and my arms went limp by my side.

I woke up in a dark place, no longer in pain. I was dead. "Hello little one." A voice spoke and I looked around to see a small light. I ran towards it, hoping maybe I'd wake up for real and I was alive and well. That this was just a sick dream or a gentusu. But what I saw when I reached the light was unbelievable. I saw the fourth Hokage with a woman with red hair.

"Welcome, (y/n)." The woman came over to me and gave me a hug. "I'm your mom." She whispered in my ear and turned to the man. "And that's your dad." To say I was crying was an understatement. There was a river flow of salty tears streaming down my face as I hugged them both.

NARUTO'S POV

I ran back towards the village at full speed, I just had to get back. I had to protect my friends and mentors. I had to protect (y/n). I saw the massive crater when I returned to what was supposed to be my village. Injured and dead ninja and civilians alike were being gathered in a clearing. I ran ahead, I had to find them, I had to find everyone. I spotted Sakura first and ran towards her, "Sakura!" She turned her head, tears running down her face and I stopped in front of her. "Where is everyone?" She pointed to our group of friends, everyone is there except for Kakashi-Sensei and my sister. "S-Sakura? Where… where is Kakashi and (y/n)?" She sobbed louder which caused all of our friends to look over. I walked towards them and the moment I spotted Shikamaru on the ground holding someone, sobbing, I froze. I knelt down and looked over him. He was holding my sister, cradling her head in his lap. Her body was paler than normal against the red stain on her shirt. I didn't move, I didn't cry, I just stared, not convinced that she was actually gone. After a few moments I got up and made my way towards the true enemy.

"N-Naruto? Where are you going?" Sakura asked me, her voice meek and breaking.

"To end this."

SHIKAMARU'S POV

The enemy had retreated for a bit, allowing us to gather our injured and deceased. I was frantically looking for (y/n) I had to make sure she was okay. "(Y/n)!!" I heard Ino yell from behind me. I ran towards her voice as fast as I could. Once I reached her, my blood ran cold. There she was, the one that I truly cared about and loved, pinned against a wall, spear straight through the chest. I tentatively reached out and touched her and my instantly moved back as I felt her cold, stiff, lifeless body. I stood frozen. The rationalist inside me was gone and I then pulled the spear from her form and caught her in my arms and she limply fell. The cry that ripped from my throat was inhuman, angry and broken. I fell to the ground holding her close to my chest. "W-wake up, please!" I cried even harder knowing it was useless. She was already gone. Passed onto the afterlife while I was here to deal with the heartbreak. The pain. I knew this love thing was a drag, but I endured it for her. She made my days brighter, the sun burn hotter, she made everyday so much better.

"Sh-Shika? W-we should get her to the others." Ino whispered, scared her own voice would break, as she gently put a hand on my shoulder. All I could manage was a small nod and tried to suppress my cries. I carried her to where everyone was putting the deceased and all our friends stood there with wide eyes and I carried their closest friend in my arms. Everyone was shocked, too stunned to say anything as I put (y/n) on the ground. But I still cradle her head in my lap, I couldn't let her go just yet. The tears still slipping down my cheeks were enough for everyone to know this was real. When Naruto showed up I sobbed, he was just in shock as the rest of us. When he left to go confront the real Pein, none of us stopped him. If anyone could end this. He could.

YOUR POV

Talking to my parents had been the most calming time of my life. Well, afterlife. They told me stories about what it was like before they died, how Kakashi was like another son to him. How they never wanted Naruto to host the nine tails. I told them how life was growing up, how I was dating Shikamaru and my dad gave me a whole lecture on safe sex, even though I was dead and I wouldn't have to worry about any of that. Well, until I started to glow. "Looks like you still have a full life to live my sweet." My mother smiled and I looked at them with a smile and tears in my eyes.

"I love you both." I said as I faded back into the darkness. This time though, when I opened my eyes I saw a face I never thought I'd be able to see again. "Shika?" His eyes snapped open and he stared down at me, his eyes wide and mouth open. He stared at me for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. His dead girlfriend, breathing. Alive.he held me so close to his chest and sobbed even louder. Ino and Choji were all giving him sad looks until they saw my arms wrap around his neck and held him closer.

"OH SHIT!" Choji yelled as the other dead bodies were coming back from death. I sat up slowly and grabbed Shikamaru's face and kissed him. I kissed him like it would be the last time I ever would.

"I… I thought I lost you for good this time." He spoke softly.

"I will always come back for you." I smiled at him, tear glazed eyes staring into his own. "Always." We kissed again, pulling each other close. We stayed like that for a moment until we heard a certain obnoxious blonde yelling at us.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?! SHIKAMARU THAT'S MY SISTER! WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?!" Causing everyone to let out a laugh. Resting his forehead on mine Shikamaru spoke quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Shika. I love you too."

#shikamaru nara x reader #naruto #choji akimichi #sakura #ino #fluff fluff fluff #death #sad

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jedi-order-apologist · 5 years ago

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A Refutation of Telltale’s “Is the Jedi Order a Cult?”

I was directed to this video that claims that the Jedi Order is a cult during a discussion on reddit earlier, and while the person who linked it respectfully asked to end the discussion we were having, I figure the video is worth addressing on its own, separately from that discussion. So I’ve cleaned up the points I made over on reddit and stripped out the stuff relevant to that conversation, to explain just what I took issue with with this video.

To the video-maker’s credit, he does acknowledge that the Jedi are presented as correct within the narrative of the films. Having run into one too many “the point of the prequels was the flaws of the Jedi” across the Internet, I have to say it’s refreshing to see Jedi-critical arguments made without that assumption.

I still disagree with pretty much all of the points made in the video, and found it to be uncharitable, blatantly incorrect at times, and almost completely lacking in concrete examples and evidence of his claims, but he has a right to his own interpretations, especially in that he acknowledges that they’re not the intended takeaway. But I hope that my response will show that it’s not something actually reflected by the source material, and that the Jedi are not actually a cult, even setting aside creator intentions.

Disclaimer – I’m not familiar with this video-creator’s other work, but from what’s said in the video, it does seem that this isn’t his usual kind of material, and that he intended this as “lighthearted” video. With that in mind, its lack of robustness and misinformation is forgivable – this response is mostly meant as something for me (or you, if you want) to point to the next time someone brings this video up to support their position, not as a criticism of this video-creator or his work in general. If you choose to engage with the video directly, please be kind.

He begins his arguments by claiming that the Jedi erase people’s identities by having them block their emotions completely - this isn't true; what we see the Jedi say is "be mindful of your feelings" (Mace Windu, TPM), and "don't let your personal feelings get in the way" (Obi-Wan, AOTC), and "don't let your feelings cloud your judgement" (several times). All of that requires acknowledgment of one's emotions and dealing with them appropriately.

He then claims that those who leave are shunned - this is again, blatantly untrue. For instance, at the beginning of AOTC, Dooku is still spoken of highly long after he has left the Order - the Jedi are reluctant to even entertain the idea that he could be behind the attack on Padmé. The Sith are for one thing, not necessarily ex-members of the Order, and for another, they’re "shunned" because they're going around torturing and murdering people, not because of heretical views on the Force. We see in TCW that the Jedi Order co-exists peacefully with other Force traditions, even dark-sided ones like the Nightsisters.

Another claim he makes is "There aren't any checks and balances for the Jedi Council", which is again, untrue - the Jedi are accountable to the Senate, and, if anything, that arrangement is skewed in favor of the Senate, because the Senate is not truly accountable in turn. The Jedi Council is ultimately pressured into decisions against its will, especially as the war goes on – most notably, Anakin’s appointment to the Council in ROTS.

He is critical of the Jedi taking in children, but the same can be said of any adoption - simply taking in children is not, in of itself, cult behavior, or else every adoptive family is a cult. The approach the author of this video takes to this category is too broad and does not adequately establish how to distinguish cults preying on children from healthy child-rearing.

He then claims that Jedi are expected to obey unquestioningly – but I disagree that this is evidenced in the source material. The Jedi are expected to respect their elders but we don't see harsh punishment for disobedience or dissent, merely disapproval. For instance, the most trouble Qui-Gon, as a noted maverick, gets is some exasperated side-eye. Similar to the previous claim, the approach the author takes is too broad and doesn’t distinguish a cult’s expectation of obedience from a parent’s expectation of obedience.

He claims that the Jedi control clothing and hairstyle - this is misleading at best. While the padawans all are expected to wear the braid, the hairstyle isn't set beyond that (many species don’t even have hair!), and even with the Jedi sporting a traditional outfit, we see their robes and tunics come in many different shades and colors. Some forgo the traditional robes all together, such as Ahsoka Tano, Luminara Unduli, Aayla Secura, some of them even wearing the ornamentation of their homeworld cultures on top of that (again, Ahsoka, Luminara, and Barriss Offee, and Depa Billaba, and Shaak Ti...).

Sith are, again, not ex-members as the video-author implies, and again, the issue with them is the torturing and murdering and enslaving people, not simple philosophical differences. The Jedi are perfectly allowed to speak with outsiders and presumably critics of their Order; they just don’t want to let a bunch of genocidal despots have their way with the galaxy. The video also makes an unfair assumption that Jedi can't get information from outside sources; there is no evidence for this – in fact, we see in AOTC that Obi-Wan turns to an outside source when he can’t get the results he wants from the Temple droids, and even trusts that outside source over contradicting information coming from within the Temple’s information base (i.e., the existence of Kamino – he does not simply accept that Kamino doesn’t exist, he seeks further wisdom on the matter).

The video-author completely omits the fact that Palpatine is arrested not merely because of being "on the dark side", but because the man had orchestrated a war for his own sake and was attempting to turn the Republic into a dictatorship under his control. That is a very good reason to arrest someone.

Regarding the good versus evil section - first of all, the Jedi in the first six films never once refer to "the light side". Not once. I don’t recall if it came up in TCW (aside from the beings on Mortis, but they are not Jedi), either. Luke does refer to the "good side" in the OT but his teachers don't call it that. This point also goes against the visual metaphors that Lucas makes use of: “Color plays an extremely important part. The bad guys exist mostly in a black and white world; the good guys live in an organic world of browns and greens. Philosophically the bad guys live in an absolute world of black and white, where the good guys live in a more naturally nuanced world.” - George Lucas, the Making of ROTJ. The Jedi’s belief system is more nuanced than “this is good” and “this is bad”, and their rules and Code are not purely about morals.

The video goes back to the identity thing – but as I've already said, several Jedi are seen wearing the garments and ornamentation of their birth cultures. They also keep their birth names, and seem to value names highly given how they approach the clone troops under their command. Here’s a good post going into that even more.

The "Code" and swearing-in ceremonies he cites are not used in the films or TCW. I’m not sure where the swearing-in is sourced from, either, and the “Code” is a meditation mantra.

The things the Jedi say are not to stop complex thought – his example of Obi-Wan even at once point telling Anakin to “use the Force! Think!”, indicating that he would like for Anakin to think things through – he echoes this later in ROTS, trying to get Anakin to consider the Chancellor’s suspicious behavior. There’s also the fact that the way Yoda speaks is by George Lucas's own words, designed to get people thinking about what Yoda is saying.

Comparing meditation to hypnosis is...completely uncharitable.

And again with the emotions thing - at no point are any emotions labeled evil, nor do they avoid them - they are expected to be mindful (i.e. cognizant) of them, and to not let those emotions rule their actions. There is nothing to indicate that their teachings are the most uncharitable and extreme interpretation you can take from their words (as this video does) instead of a reasonable and healthy approach to self-control that is actually valuable psychologically.

His final claims repeat the earlier claim of “shunning” - again, there is no evidence for this behavior towards non-believers, especially as we see them having friends outside the Order. And at no point does anyone say that there is no happiness outside of the Order.

I hope I addressed all his points and sufficiently explained why they don’t match up with what we see in the source material. If you want further reading on how the Jedi actually function, with robust sources, I recommend checking out @gffa’s reference guide for the current continuity. There is also my “in defense of the jedi” tag, which collects my and others’ meta posts on the Jedi, their philosophies, and actions.

#in defense of the jedi #the jedi order #jedi order #the jedi #jedi #discussion #the jedi are not a cult

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missturtleduck · 4 years ago

Note

Fake dating anon-I think it would be cool if it wasn’t a modern au? But thank you!!!!

Sorry for your wait, anon! I hope you like what I wrote for you <3

Fake It Till You Make It

Sokka x Reader - FakeDating!Trope

Needless to say, Y/N was slightly shocked by Sokka’s proposition.

By the age of sixteen, they had been crucial pai sho tiles in the gambit against the once Fire Lord Ozai. Returning home was odd for many reasons, but notably the reminders that they were still children really, or at least in the eyes of their families. It was Zuko who had suggested a gang trip – a joint life changing field trip – after the nations settled down from Ozai’s defeat.

The first to return home was Y/N. Her mother lived in Fire Fountain City. It was only a short journey away from the capital, and Hakoda had already travelled to see his children at the palace. Sure, she had joked about pushing off her mother’s insistent affection, but she definitely cried a little bit when she got to hug her mum, and even more when her brothers piled on too. Ever the monarchist, Zuko was welcomed into the house with open arms and plenty of celebration. Toph especially got on with her family, rough-housing with Y/N’s brothers like it was nothing.

Since Toph didn’t want to see her parents as of yet, the only family member left to visit was Sokka and Katara’s Gran Gran since Suki’s family were doing work in the Fire Nation anyway. It took some convincing for Toph to put on snow boots – “I’ll risk frostbite if it means seeing, Katara!” – but soon they were travelling all the way to the South Pole. It was on their stop at Kyoshi Island that Sokka had approached Y/N.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Y/N barked out an incredulous laugh. “Tui and La, what?”

“Exactly what I said,” Sokka nodded, face solemn. “Katara wrote to Gran Gran a couple of times and mentioned Yue and Suki, but you know how that ended.”

“One turned into the moon and the other is a raging Sapphic in a relationship with Ty Lee.”

“Exactly!” He looked distressed, throwing his hands in the air. “And Gran Gran sent a letter back saying how excited she was to meet my girlfriend!”

Frowning in confusion, Y/N looked at him. “You could just tell her what happened.”

“But, Y/N, she was so excited!” He simpered the way a child would, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously, we’re just friends, but would you do this?”

Ouch. Sure, they were ‘just friends’, but it hurt anyway. Maybe it was the terseness with how he said it, or the fact that since the war had ended all Y/N could think about is how pretty Sokka looked when he could finally relax. Whatever it was, it stung in her chest, panging with the intensity of heartburn. Heartburn seemed a fitting enough description regardless of its denotation.

So that was how she ended up fake dating Sokka, all for the sake of his ego and his gran gran’s happiness. As they travelled over the ocean on Appa’s back, he was as physically far from her as he could possibly be. Ouch, again. For a fake boyfriend, he was doing a crappy job at it. Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N sulked quite contently next to Zuko, who seemed to be comfortable with her mood – something about being friends with far grumpier girls. That had made her laugh.

Her laugh had made Sokka stare.

The sharpness to her gaze melted almost immediately when she saw the concern etched on his face. Instead, she beamed at him. Sokka grinned back, turning away to continue his conversation with Suki.

Y/N could feel Zuko’s gaze on her. “I swear to the spirits, Zuko, if you say that’s rough, buddy, I’ll chi block you.”

The crown prince was kind enough to stifle his laughter, though it seemed contagious. Her frown shifted into a small smile and she took to staring over the edge of Appa’s saddle at the canvas of blue beneath them. There was something tranquil about the polar water, the great water beasts breaching the waves only to dive back down into the impossible depths. Being from the Fire Nation, Y/N had never experienced such wonder in a single image – nor such freezing weather. Pulling furs over herself, she readied herself for what would happen on the ice.

Gran Gran looked to be the loveliest but scariest woman she would ever meet. The woman stood as the leader of the tribe; a gaggle of children stood behind her in uncertainty. However, as soon as Sokka hopped off Appa’s back, they were screaming and charging past her to tackle him to the ground. Her heart warmed as they hugged him and cried, shouting at him for leaving them without a warrior in the village.

“What are you seal pups on about?” He snorted, trying to avoid being winded by tiny elbows. “I trained you better than this.”

“That’s enough of that.”

At the woman’s words, the children picked themselves up, leaving Sokka in the snow. He didn’t last long though as he and Katara took their turn in charging. Embracing their grandmother with the tightest hug Y/N had ever seen, she left them to their moment, opting to instead help Toph down from their trusty steed.

“I hate this,” Toph muttered, holding both Zuko and Y/N’s arms in her own death grip.

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “But you’ll be able to take those boots off once we get inside one of the igloos.”

“And this must be Y/N.”

With wide eyes, she pried herself from Toph, trusting Zuko to make sure she didn’t cause any avalanches. Stepping to Sokka’s side, Y/N tried not to startle as he wrapped his arm around her hip. “Sokka, let me meet your grandmother before you steal me away!”

She felt smug satisfaction at how he flushed.

“Let me look at you, dear,” The matriarch ordered, though not unkindly. Presenting herself in the woman, she brushed off the scrutinous stare with a smile. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you, erm- “

“Please,” She beamed, and all Y/N could see was the saccharine threat that Katara often fronted, “Call me Gran Gran.”

As the woman turned away, she swatted Sokka’s arm, meeting his gaze with a scowl. Stalking past him through the snow – which was harder than she had assumed – Y/N was followed by a curious flock of children tugging on her sleeves. Patient as a saint, she laughed with them, answering all of their burning questions.

Why is your hair like that? Why are your clothes red? Is that the same scary man who attacked our village? But he doesn’t look scary. Why is Sokka smiling at you?

Whipping her head around, Y/N met Sokka’s eyes. He was grinning like a dope, chin rested on his palm as Katara talked Gran Gran’s ear off. Somehow, he hadn’t realised that she had caught him staring, but the children soon fixed that; a snowball to the face promptly brought him out of his stupor. Had he hit his head on the way down from Appa? Whatever it was, it made her heart hurt and she had promised Toph a warm igloo anyway.

The sun was beginning to set behind the glaciated mountains on the horizon, illuminating the village in the evening light, dappling the ice with sunspots. She had never seen something so beautiful before, but as the sun disappeared, so did the warmth; the igloo more than made up for it.

As she sat with Zuko, Suki, and Toph – Sokka and Katara obviously busy whilst Aang promised the children some airbending games – Y/N grumbled to herself. Not only was she playing fake girlfriend, but fake girlfriend who was hated by the family. Well, it probably wasn’t hate. She wouldn’t blame Gran Gran for being protective over one of her two grandchildren. In fact, thinking of how her brothers reacted to Sokka, maybe she had it good.

Laid flat on her back, she listened to the gossip of the Fire Nation, of how Ty Lee was doing, and how Toph was seeing some weird stuff under the ice. Whatever it was, it couldn’t spike her interest enough to join in the conversation.

“Y/N?”She barely turned her head to see an anxious looking Sokka in the doorway.

“Yes?”

He looked around the room at all the faces and fidgeted. “About earlier- “

“Listen, I don’t care, okay, Sokka?” She said, trying her hardest to not seem entirely mean, nor upset; Toph scoffed, muttering something that sounded like liar.

“Just,” He sighed, “Can we talk outside?”

Pulling furs back over herself, she looked pleadingly at her friends to rescue her, but to no avail. Trudging after Sokka, she was growing more and more vexed as they moved further from the village and into the cold. The moon began to rise in the sky, glossing the ice with an ethereal glow, which was perhaps the only nice part about being out in the bitter cold.

“What, Sokka?” Y/N finally huffed, putting her foot down. “Am I not being a convincing enough girlfriend for you?”

“It’s not that Y/N,” Sokka started, waving his hands in a panicked motion as if warning off a polar dog.

“Then what?” She interrupted, not having any of it. “Did you want me to hold your hand? Maybe give you a cuddle?”

He flinched at the venom in her tone. “No, Y/N, if you’d just- “

“Just what?” Y/N snapped. “What you asked of me what really inconsiderate,

Sokka, but I did it anyway because I'm your friend – just your friend.”

“Spirits, Y/N,” He sighed, realisation passing behind his eyes.

“But it’s fine! I’m a great actress, Sokka, because I wouldn’t be acting. See? I can hold your hand, hug you, even kiss you if you needed it, but it hurts me.”

Looking down at the ice, Sokka kicked some snow under his boot, looking very ashamed of himself for a second. It pierced through her anger in a way that was unfair. Instead of dealing a final blow, all she could think to do was grab his hand and comfort him. Yes, she still felt she was in the right, but Y/N didn’t want one of her closest friends to suffer at her hand, retribution or no.

“Gran Gran shouted at me, y’know,” Sokka said, a small smile quirking at his lips as his eyes fell on his hand in hers.

Y/N frowned. “Why?”

“For thinking she was a ‘dumb old lady’ apparently,” He chuckled, meeting her eyes. “It seemed Aang had let slip that we weren’t actually dating, so she told me off for that.”

“You deserved that,” She grin, bumping his shoulder.

“And then she called me dumb, which I didn’t appreciate.”

His smile said otherwise, so Y/N pushed. “What did you do now?”

“Try to fake something I actually wanted.”

Shocked, Y/N dropped his hand, and for a moment his heart fell heavy in his chest. This was the perfect chance to be with her, he thought, now that the war was over and she knew her family was safe. Now they had autonomy, surely they could focus on each other.

“Y/N, I’m so- “

His apology was cut off by an insistent pair of lips, begging him to be quiet and just enjoy their moment. Deepening the kiss, she looped her arms around the back of his neck, the scruff of his unshaven hair brushing against her arms. His heart was soaring, hers no longer burning but glowing. She pulled back and reaching up to his face, Y/N felt the warmth of his cheek in the bitter cold, radiating warmer than the sun. Whatever light had been taken by the night was captured in them.

“Gran Gran likes you by the way,” Sokka said quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Says you wrangle those kids better than I do.”

“Praise Agni,” Y/N gasped, letting out a bated breath she hadn’t realised was stuck. “She does the same scary face Katara does.”

Sokka chucked, rubbing his nose against hers. “Don’t you worry, Y/N. Me and Dad are just as scared by it.”

With a giggle, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, basking in their embrace for as long as she could.

#atla #fic request #sokka x reader #fake dating #sokka x f!reader #zuko #toph #aang #katara #suki #the gaang #gran gran #fake it till you make it #anon request #angst #happy ending #missturtleduck

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pfreadsandwrites · 4 years ago

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不名誉・Ignominy・一 (1/3)

AO3 LINK AND AUTHOR’S NOTES

ACCOMPANYING SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

warnings: description of suicide, depression, violence, death, angst, father-son relationships, one-shot, 7k words

i.father /ii. son (tba) /iii. legacy (tba)

不名誉（romaji: fumeiyo) - dishonour

Nothing is here. Not time, not space. Just the ghost of a father, waiting for the ghost of a son. What else would limbo be for?

親はなくても子は育つ

Even without parents, children grow up.

The flame is incessant.

It rustles and crackles, never wavering, the only thing of note, of light, in this eternal aphotic abyss. It’s comforting somehow, the warmth of the fire. Energising. Igniting his soul in a way that he doesn’t mind this place, wherever it is, however long he’s been here. Paradoxically, he doesn’t feel it.

A spark escapes, but he doesn’t make to evade it. His bleary eyes watch on hopelessly as it disappears back into the obsidian.

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say he doesn’t begrudge it.

Limbo, is it? Sakumo figured. Certainly not the afterlife, not all of it. Bleak as it was, it was too… empty, too inconsequential, even for someone like him, someone who died like he did. He shouldn’t have expected anything more. He didn’t deserve anything more. It was fitting that even transferring from the physical realm to the spiritual isn’t straightforward, not for him anyway. It’d been too bold of him to assume he’d at the very least get that, even if he did only assume it for a moment.

When he considered the notion of his own death - and he had considered it - afterlife hadn’t really come into it. It didn’t matter, he’d decided. As long as he ceased to exist on Earth, what awaited him here was an afterthought. And he’d be remiss if he lamented it now, not after what he’d done.

There’d been no other way.

(But if that were true, why is he bound here? He knows nothing has ever been that simple. Surely there’s something missing, something he needs to atone for beyond his death? Or maybe-

The thought is snatched away before it forms fully, engulfed by the greedy fire before him)

Yes - no other way.

It’s of little comfort though, because it just means that he was always supposed to be here too, regardless. Waiting. He knows why. Ending things like that - no, how dare he be cryptic - when he plunged the blade into his stomach, swiped it along smoothly and keeled over. When he groaned in pain, torment and inure. When he expelled his guts and with it, his anguish and his anger - and his sins and his virtues, in the hope that no one else would bear them, especially not the little boy. When the the little boy that, despite acting more like a man, wouldn’t understand that this was all for him, the little boy that looked too much like him and too much like her, the little boy that meant everything, had discovered his father’s corpse.

Yes - no other way.

Necessary - incumbent, horrific, as it was, he has to take responsibility. Even if it means staying and suffering here for all eternity. He won’t let thoughts of regret enter his mind, let alone admit it out loud.

Whether what he did was fair, whether what led up to it was fair, is inconsequential. Justice doesn’t come into it. It’s honour. It’s what a shinobi does, what a man does, what a father does. If he can’t do even that for his son, then that flame can grow and swallow him up now for all he cares.

He owed Kakashi that much then, and he owes him that much now.

So he knows he can only accept, and wait. Morbid as it is to wait for your own son here, of all places, it’s the best he can offer him. It’s all he’s ever been able to offer him. He closes his worn eyes. The smoke from the fire envelops him and for a moment, it’s too real. He reminds himself there’s no point in coughing.

(How can he still feel so tired?)

Less than a fortnight after his own birthday, the child is born. He takes as much as he brings.

It’s quick - it seems barely minutes have passed before his wife’s cries were replaced with the newborn’s. Kicking and crying, a typical protest at being dragged away from safety and into this wretched world.

He waits outside (a shinobi has no place at a birth, after all), mission-worn, resting his bruised forehead on his clasped fists whilst his eyes are screwed shut. He knows better than to expect a perfect outcome, even if her determination wouldn’t accept anything less. But still, his ears strain of their own accord for the slightest hint of her voice camouflaged by the baby’s.

“It’s a boy. A healthy, beautiful boy,” the nurse says kindly, breaking him out of his prayer. Her eyes avoid his, and he can’t help but read too much into the hesitance in her words. So he attempts to ready himself for the impossible, but she continues. “Hatake-san, your wife-“

His breath hitches.

“She’s a fighter.”

The scene is alien, when he finally meets his new family, hunching over her bedside. She holds the infant close against her breast, nursing him with an exhausted, but enduring glow on her weary features. The tenderness that she’d previously only ever shown him seems to define her whole being now. The skill, the nonchalance, with which she’s transformed so flawlessly from a woman, from his wife, into a mother leaves Sakumo unable to do anything but watch awkwardly. It’s too pure an image, too different from all the ones he’s grown accustomed to. Completely natural whilst somehow equally ethereal. He knows he’ll sully it the moment he interrupts.

Luckily, she does it for him. She’s always been stubborn. Dragging him back for his sake, like she always does.

“Your son,” she states matter-of-factly, before dissolving it with a giggle. “Come meet him.”

He nods. Her smiles always were infectious. So much so that they both forget that it’s a miracle she’s still here. His large, marred hand brushes over the baby’s tiny head, his soft, clean silver hair, silver just like his. This is the son of the White Fang. Cruelly ironic, the visceral reminder that this boy was his, even in all his innocence and all his father’s battle scars.

Father - yes, he was a father. How long will it be, until his son sees his father for what he is? How long will it be until he turned out the same way? Fatherhood - his head suddenly feels too heavy to hold up, to bear it, just like his son’s.

As if she knows, she interrupts his internal doubt. “He looks just like you. If I were feeling just a bit pettier, I’d say it’s unfair,” she jokes. “Well, it’s not like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” Sakumo dismisses quickly, and points to a mark next to the boy’s mouth. A black dot, placed so specifically it feels intentional. It’s easy to miss, but it’s there. Unwavering, unremovable. Just like her. “This is yours.”

Almost in agreement, the baby’s tiny fist clenches around his finger. His eyes widen, and she laughs. “Mm. And look - you’re his.”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything - only marvel at how, for the second time, someone was just able to pull him away from himself and so close so simply and so impossibly.

He straightens his back.

“What do you think of the name Kakashi? You know, scarecrow to your crops?”

He grins. Strange how she always re-ignites his courage.“…It’s a good name.”

It’s dreamlike after that. The child grows quickly, and every day they both find new things to smile about, to love, about the baby and each other. Kakashi looks more and more like his father each day, and it exults his mother, even if she pretends otherwise. Each mission has Sakumo more reluctant to leave the sanctuary she created when she kisses him goodbye, but he returns quicker each time too. Their smiles are more motivation than he ever thought possible.

Nothing so idyllic would last so long, even if a child can convince you otherwise.

It isn’t long before her smiles disappear when she thinks his back is turned. When her colour disappears, her fingers tremble and she becomes lighter in his arms as Kakashi grows heavier in hers.

Her infinite determination is only finite at delaying fate. Suddenly the always blunt, smart-mouthed woman is reticent, subdued. She’s never been good at apologising, but it’s all she seems to do now. To him, to Kakashi - even he, with his curious, intelligent eyes, seems to understand more for his age than he should. He becomes equally silent.

“Look after him, for the both of us, Sakumo. Watch him grow up. Please.” Of course he assuages her fears, even as his world falls apart, and as Kakashi takes his first steps a little ahead of them.

It’s earlier than normal, but by that point they come to expect it. His tiny feet tremble, and he thinks he might stumble, but he doesn’t let his parents see. He doesn’t cause more concern than he has to.

She takes her last breath before his first birthday.

Less than a fortnight after his father’s birthday, the child turns one. He takes as much as he brings.

The grooves around his eyes become deeper. The smoke feels real again. Sometimes he wishes he could choke on it.

Still, he’s here. He’s waiting. Maybe he’s supposed to atone a little more before seeing her, too. The smile comes of its own accord, when he considers just what she’d say when she finds out he didn’t keep his promise quite like he was supposed to. Maybe she’ll forgive him, though not before scolding him. It makes the uncertainty of this vacuum more bearable, just barely. Afterlife, when he does let himself ponder it, is one thing.

Her.

He’s not so proud to pretend that he has the nerve to face her without having something more to tell her about Kakashi anyway.

Would things have turned out differently, if she - He stops himself. He won’t make excuses. He still would have taken the mission, and he still would have failed it. He still wouldn’t regret failing it, either. And it still would have ruined the village, and ruined it for them in turn. He still would have had to resolve it, resolve it in that excruciating way. He has no right to put that burden on her absence.

It’s so foolish, devoid of foresight - but he never considered that he’d be the one raising a child alone. It’s cruel, when the realisation bites him. He’d never let himself ruminate on it, but the assumption had always been there. Underlying every farewell, every strike of his tanto, every homecoming.

He’d definitely die first.

That would have been easier, selfish as it sounds, but then, he’s never been destined for ease. Neither had she. But he can even accept that, if it means, somehow, in some twist of fate - it’s too sentimental, but he grants himself an allowance this time - that Kakashi would have to bear a little less.

(Don’t get him wrong. He knows the fact that he’s here, that the fire is right there, waiting, to burn up his optimism incinerates that hope.)

The child catches on quickly.

Kakashi gives up crying for his mother, and soon gives up looking for her at all. It’s a response to that look Sakumo gives him, that maps his face involuntarily before the carefully chosen smile replaces it. It’s easier for them both if he pretends the last expression is the first.

Regardless, they manage, even if their home no longer feels like a home. There are sympathetic drop-ins on the poor widower and his baby, and again when the missions restart. Eventually he burns less food, Kakashi’s sleeping habits are less chaotic, and the house feels a little less empty. Soon, they’re affectionately thought of as the Hatake boys. You rarely see Sakumo without his pup.

The Hatake boys are nothing if not adaptable. Especially Kakashi. He grows quickly, too quickly.

He takes after his father, that’s what everyone says. And Sakumo lets himself believe it - the physical similarities are obvious, the boy is smart, precocious and he shows so much interest and talent for his pre-destined shinobi path that it’s mournful.

He knows he’s being idolised a little too much, but instead of quelling it, he succumbs to that wonder, that innocence in the boy’s eyes. God knows if this world has its way, it won’t be there much longer. And Kakashi’s in too much of a hurry to grow up, so he has to protect what little of it remains.

It’s no wonder, though. He tries to shield him, from the praises, the adulations - hero, legend, genius - but it’s futile. Just as he’s about to explain that such words are tentative, that they might have a time limit, they both hear it again.

“Look! It’s the White Fang!”

“And his son! I bet he’ll be just as great.”

It’s forever chasing them. Kakashi’s not the kind of boy to ever outwardly hesitate, but he’s thoughtfully silent now.

He insists on wearing a mask by the time he’s four. It’s bizarre, but apparently ‘the quintessential shinobi wears a mask’.

(How the hell does he know the word quintessential?!)

But his logic is sound. Still, Sakumo can’t help but think it’s a response, cleverly disguised like the boy’s already learnt to disguise so much. Did he want to invite less comparison? So far, it hadn’t really helped. Or had Kakashi caught him glancing at the black dot near his mouth one time too many, that unforgettable, enduring reminder of her?

Regardless, he doesn’t fight back, even though it’s damn near impossible to find masked shirts for children and his homemade attempt makes Kakashi chortle in an unusually carefree outburst. He’s never been good at denying him anyway, just like he was never good at denying her. That’s another thing - the more he looks like him, the more Sakumo’s reminded of her.

He holds onto his hand after pestering him to take him to the training grounds, and to the academy entrance exam - flooring the invigilators, to Sakumo’s pride and horror - and back home again, tugging on his shirt, a familiar demand to hoist him on his back when witnesses are out of sight. He has that uncanny way of making him and only him feel needed, even if he’s too proud to say it. Just like her.

Kakashi’s independent, mature, self-sufficient - even a little arrogant. But it’s impossibly endearing, just like her. He’s blunt, too matter-of-fact and never understands why it’s a problem, no matter how many times he’s reprimanded, but it’s chalked up to his maturity and his talent rather than a personality defect. He’s too logical, and causes adults and children alike to scratch their heads in confusion and infuriation. It’s all too familiar. His mother’s influence is just as enduring in him as it ever had been, but it’s as subtle as that damn beauty mark.

The mask, too. How typical of her, how perfect it is, Sakumo thinks, when it finally dawns on him. It’s his way of revealing himself to others on his - and only his - terms. He controls how much you see of him, whilst he sees right into you.

The child catches on quickly.

The fire rustles again, but it’s remarkably hearth-like now. Cosy. Sakumo lets himself smile, and open his eyes again. There was an optimism, a warmth, in those days as well. It still hurt, but they managed, even enjoyed themselves. They made quite a team. Kakashi seemed more like a man than a boy, even when he was that young. It seemed natural to others, and Sakumo supposed it was, partly. But he tried so hard too.

Things had looked up for a while, as they so often do, when you hold so much promise. When you’re not a pariah. It all changed so quickly. He knew it would, from the moment he turned his back on his duty, even if he didn’t know what it would entail. But it never felt wrong either.

It felt hopeless instead. He’d have been a bastard either way. Better to be a bastard who made a mistake, whose softness led to a screw-up, than a heartless bastard who’d throw his friends away for bureaucracy, for a convenience. For something as constructed as a code of conduct.

Kakashi could recite every rule of Shinobi Conduct before he even entered the academy (Sakumo doesn’t even remember letting him learn) but had only stared up at him blankly when Sakumo tried to tell him he needn’t worry so much. His rigidity, his insistence on his black and white view of the world - though he always used words beyond his years, it was a stark reminder that he was still only a little boy. A little boy that didn’t understand he was a little boy was a difficult thing. A dangerous thing.

Still, he trusted that the boy, little as he was, would understand one day. That he wasn’t leaving him behind because he regretted it. But because it was hopeless, because he’d become unfit for his purpose, both as a shinobi and a father, whether it was right or not. Because though it hadn’t felt wrong, he still had to deal with the consequences. Maybe one day the land they were expected to throw away their lives for would be more forgiving. Maybe it’d take his death for them to start to see it.

(Did he die for honour, responsibility, cowardice or anger?)

The child raises himself.

He’s the talk of the town now that’s he entered the academy. A prodigy, they call him. He’s set to graduate and be a full-fledged shinobi within the year. Classmates and teachers alike fawn over him, though he’s somewhat aloof to it all, which only makes them flock closer.

(He’s too young!) Her disapproval seems to float from that world to this one. And he can’t disagree, even though there isn’t much he can do about it. It seems Kakashi’s born for it, that he’d have nothing if he didn’t have this. So he supports it, fully. Besides, Konoha needs all the talent it can find.

Even if it means depending on children.

His self-reliance is bittersweet, but Sakumo won’t deny that it makes it easier to leave. That even if he doesn’t come home, he can worry a little bit less.

Isn’t that what fatherhood is? From the moment it’s possible, to help him feel his independence, feel every risk whilst concealing your own fear, so that he knows he might bear every pressure of this wretched world, prepare him so that he won’t collapse under it and, if he’s lucky, become a man that others can rely on too? He knows he can’t protect him forever. And that there’ll be a day, sooner than he’ll expect (it always is), where he won’t be there at all, because he’ll be damned if he has to go to his own son’s funeral instead.

Still, he would have liked to protect the boy’s childhood just a little bit longer. But he’s always so insistent on giving away what little of it he has left. It’s hard not to be bitter - when he sees the children of civilian families running around without a care in the world. But that’s the point, he knows that. Someone has to sacrifice so they can even exist at all. To be the one to do that is an honour, in one way or another.

The missions are relentless. The boy knows that each goodbye might be his father’s last. He doesn’t have to explain it. Kakashi is always calm, always accepting, always mature, careful to give him a casual send-off. It’s curious though, the intense, hopeful stare Sakumo feels bore into his back as he walks away.

The missions go well. Sakumo cements himself again and again as a hero, the revered White Fang, and invites commendation wherever he goes. Kakashi works harder, bearing pride and pressure on his tiny shoulders to meet his aspirations.

The mission is a failure. Behind enemy lines, espionage and destruction. It’s doomed from its inception. Mistakes pile up, and eventually his comrades get themselves captured. All his training has taught him that it can’t be helped, that he must carry out his mission and toss them aside. But he can’t abide. It’s never been in him to turn his heart to stone, not completely, but it’s even more impossible now. When the little boy’s at home, waiting for his own special report. When he’s watching and analysing his every move. When he’s picked Sakumo as the model he puts all his energy into emulating. He has to learn it’s okay to break the rules sometimes, lest he learns that lesson himself the hard way.

So, thanks to Sakumo’s doing, no lives have been lost. They’re grateful, for now. But experience fills him with apprehension. The worst is yet to come. There’s just something in the way his heart palpitates without explanation, why the journey home is forebodingly silent.

He’s right. The consequences are dire. Not just for Konoha, but through the entire land.

He turns from the Leaf’s White Fang to a disgrace overnight.

How precarious it all is, being a hero, he thinks with a sardonic smile. How fickle they are.

The smiles and praise become glares and blame, from strangers and old friends alike. Save for a few, but it isn’t enough to influence the rest of them. The close-knit community, the idyllic home he’d risked his livelihood countless times to protect almost seems an illusion now. Maybe it’s naive of him, that he never realised that ‘home’ could be conditional. That all the good you’ve already done could be wiped away so easily by one mistake that there was no point trying to do good in the first place.

He only indulges the bitterness for a little while. It’s immature. A man should take responsibility for his actions, good and bad. He knows what he did, and he knows it directly led to more damage and destruction. He knows it’s his fault. He knows he ended up hurting the very thing he was supposed to protect, and he knows it was him who elected to take on that responsibility in the first place. He knows he has no right to self-pity.

But he also knows he doesn’t regret it - the action, not the situation. He knows that if he had the choice to go back, he’d do it again. He knows wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew he was the kind of man that could turn his back on his friends, no matter what he’s been taught. He knows he has to set an example.

And an example he is. Kakashi’s quieter than usual, at first. He acts as if he doesn’t hear the angry muttering, he doesn’t notice that the missions are dwindling down, that the lines chiselled around his father’s eyes span further and that his clothes hang a little looser. That hurts most of all. That he’s suffering, but he refuses to dwell on it. It’s either for Sakumo’s sake or because that’s what a shinobi does. He doesn’t know which explanation is worse.

Everyone has their limits, most of all little boys. He should have expected this sooner. Kakashi doesn’t badger him to come to the training grounds like he used to, but Sakumo’s the one insisting this time. He still has to try. Even if it takes more from him than it ever has before. But he has to feel like he can still do something, anything. The range of which seems to decrease by the day. When the boy topples to the floor after a badly timed kick, he slaps away his father’s hand.

“Why?! Why did you do that? You went against orders, and everything went wrong! They all say these horrible things now! You’re not supposed to-” Kakashi stops himself, panting. His little body struggles to keep up with his rage and his words.

Strange, Sakumo thinks, as his dreary eyes meet the boy’s tearful ones. His reprimands match those of the adults he’s no doubt heard, but he’s never sounded more like the child he is. How can he understand? It must feel like a punishment, for all the pride and admiration he’s held for him until now. To have it snatched away like that. He can only apologise, but a father has no right to expect forgiveness from his son. Still, Kakashi lets him hold him close, just this once.

Then one day, it happens.

Cruelty is cruelty, no matter the source and no matter the recipient, and it isn’t long before the son bears the sins of the father. Kakashi does the best he can to take it in his stride, as usual, but when Sakumo asks if he can walk him to the academy, the sacred, persisting ritual comes to an end.

“I can go myself. Don’t worry,” he dismisses, gently enough, but he barely glances back before disappearing, before Sakumo even responds. It seemed so long ago, when he’d say the exact same words but he’d smile under his mask and grab his hand. Now he seems like an adult, resigned and reluctant. Hurt and tired. Bearing so much, for everyone else’s sake. For Sakumo’s sake

Whether it’s out of self-preservation, pity - or worst of all, an attempt to spare his father from the villagers’ scowls, it’s unacceptable. They all mean the same thing. Pretending he’s still needed, that his existence isn’t superfluous, is exhausting both of them. And he’s slipped one level further. Kakashi never mentions it, but he knows being Sakumo’s son is akin to damnation now.

He’s holding him back. Kakashi’s still the talk of the academy, but it’s opposite in nature now. There’s no more talk of his progress, of his graduation, of the illustrious road he was so sure to have ahead of him. It’s all snatched away in an instant. Kakashi has no future as long as Sakumo keeps breathing. What father can live with himself knowing that?

Everything is so difficult now. Standing takes all he has. He feels like a fraud for even doing that, for anything he says, anything he does. A soul-sucking, lacklustre performance. Every bodily function only spirals him down further into an abyss. He’s a ghost among the living. He’s always wondering why the hell he’s still here. He’s been able to convince himself, to a point, that he should still fight, he should still eat - but it’s undeniable now. He’s a burden.

And as burdensome as he is, the most important thing still remains.

He’ll do whatever he has to for his son. That much he can do.

Anything that Sakumo regrets is out of his control. He’s never been able to control anything where it counts. Not her death, not the mission, not sparing Kakashi from any pain. He’s even failing at his own modest goal - to ensure that the boy has the tools to bear anything and everything he might have to. So he can’t say he regrets this. What he regrets is far beyond anything he can express. This is the only thing he can do now.

Kakashi rejects his offer to accompany him before he even makes it. But he hangs on for a second, long enough for Sakumo to whisper one sentence.

“I love you, kiddo. I’m sorry.”

The little boy stops - silently studying his father’s expression. But he doesn’t have the same energy he used to either, to draw any real conclusions from it, to have the patience for his father’s random lamentations.“What are you sorry for? I’m fine. See you.”

It’s surprisingly easy to put things in order. The note is succinct, but it’ll do what it’s supposed to. Lift the sins that stick unfairly to Kakashi’s scrawny back, if nothing else. His possessions have dwindled, his paperwork is minimal, the deeds on the house are finalised. He’s determined to leave this world with as little fuss as he deserves, as he can manage. It’s the least he can do.

Then, Sakumo kneels, and takes out his tanto. The tanto that’d accompanied him as long as he could remember. Something he inherited from his father when he became a genin. Something he’d give to Kakashi as a graduation gift.

Who says a gift can’t be posthumous? It’s the same blade that’s going to wash away his and its sins. It’s ready for a reset with new honour, a new owner.

He inhales. He closes his eyes. He plunges the blade into his gut. It sinks in smoothly. The pain starts, spreading slowly and surely through his body like electricity. He exhales. He glides it along. It moves easily. Everything empties and he is exalted. His body, his being, his soul. His sins. His virtues. His love, his hate. His joy and his rage. His life and his death. He’s gone now, fading away into the whiteness. The warrior’s body is meek, inconsequential as it falls unceremoniously on its side.

And just like that, the boy is pure once again. He’s his own, as he should be. He’s no longer just the son of the hero-turned-pariah (maybe it was better to have never been a hero at all?), but Kakashi. Kakashi the prodigy. Kakashi the genius. Kakashi who he trusts will understand all this one day. That his father isn’t so wrong in what he did, but he knows he still has to do this, he still has to make up for it. They’re all just victims of circumstance. That he’s sorry, and that he loves him more than anything, but the last thing he needs is a father like him. He’s already doing so well. And he’ll do better now. After all, he’s never needed him.

The child raised himself.

The fire’s rustling becomes louder as the flames grow larger. A welcome distraction, Sakumo chuckles to himself. It’s almost as if he’s not supposed to concentrate on his mistakes and shortcomings.

(Or maybe the embers somehow know he doesn’t really want to)

Everything had seemed so urgent back then. Hasty. Not like now, where he’s neither here nor there, there’s no past and no future.

It must have seemed cruel, on the surface, he admits that. And his justifications probably seemed like excuses, like cowardice. He has the clarity to see that now. But it didn’t make them feel any less true, not at the time.

It was the best thing for Kakashi, how could it not have been? Not only that - he pauses, before he finally lets himself admit it. It was a relief. He was just so tired.

(But he’s still tired now. It’s just more bearable.)

Did any of it work? Or had it all been in vain? As much as he held out hope that when Kakashi did come here - and he would - he’d have been older, lived a long life of love. Where the village respected him, praised him, honoured him. Maybe with a family too.

(…Could any of that have happened if he’d stayed alive?

No. The answer has to be no.)

Or had he ended up too similar to his father?

Regardless, he knows why he’s here now. No matter how it turned out after, he did what he did. And he has to take responsibility for it. It’s all so much more demanding than he thought it would be. He chose death to take responsibility, and now he has to do the same for his death.

But then again, a father has no right to expect forgiveness from his son.

Especially not one like him.

The flame settles down. It’s calmer now, like its wish has been granted, like it’s satisfied.

It won’t be long now.

And as usual, he’s right. Soon, he hears footsteps. They’re measured, relaxed, but emphatic.

“That you, Kakashi?” Sakumo affirms, but he doesn’t know why. He already knows. Just like Kakashi doesn’t seem surprised to see him, or even be here at all.

“So this is where you’ve been,” Kakashi answers just as superfluously.

The deep voice should have thrown him, it should have been unfamiliar, but everything seems to make sense. Everything is natural. Everything is easy.

He’s a man now. Another superfluous statement, one Sakumo doesn’t voice. But here he is. He’s grown, a different person from the one Sakumo knew. But it still seems like he knows him, like he never really stopped knowing him. As if time has been the obstacle between them. He looks more like him now, even though he’s still wearing that damn mask. It’s amusing, the way his stubbornness appears to have persisted for no reason at all. It’s typical. There’s a scar across his eye. There’s a story there, as there always is. He carries himself with a rare combination of decorum and drudgery. Subtle acquiescence, controlled to his core.

“Will you tell me your story?”

He knows it’s only a pale substitute for not laying witness to it himself, but Kakashi seems happy to oblige. He agrees, joining him at the fireside. It rustles in approval.

“Yeah. But it’s a long one. I want to tell you everything.”

Sakumo agrees.

Kakashi’s smile is so relaxed, so wide that it’s visible - that he may as well be that same little boy again. It’s even a little bit contagious. “So, Dad…”

The conversation flows like water. Kakashi is unrestrained, serene, even as the terrible stories come out of him. Though they’re not all terrible. Some have Sakumo hanging his head in shame, others have him laughing out loud with a freedom he hasn’t had in years. Some are ridiculous. Some are stupid. He talks as if they’re not - as if they’re just that, stories. Happenstance.

But still, the terrible ones are the most memorable ones. It’s shocking, how much he’s been through. How many times he’s been failed, how many times he’s failed. How he’d been through more before puberty than most had been through by their deaths. The boy was always destined for that, though. He’d graduated not long after Sakumo died, and was promoted again within a year after. It’s only a few years after that that he makes jounin, the same rank as his father. Most everyone important to him is gone by then too. He’s made a name for himself as a legend, as a hero, even as the disgrace’s son. And he’s made sure to pass on all the lessons he’s learnt.

He doesn’t expect sympathy, or pity. He’s long made peace with it - well, to the extent he can. He’s just never had anyone to tell this to, without judgement. With ease. Where it’s streamed out of him without thought. Where he’s not using his pain as a warning for others, to try and protect others. Just the kind of acknowledgement you want from your father.

Gone is his cocky demeanour - Sakumo knew it would probably have to some day, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to go through so much to learn that lesson. Instead, there’s a humility about him, an ease. If she were here, she’d say Kakashi’s even more like him, and scoff at the injustice.

It’s like he’s happy to be here. Sakumo doesn’t know if it’s just the situation. Kakashi doesn’t seem like he’s ever done this before - but then, how could he? It’s the comfort you can only have with a father, and Sakumo’s grateful that he’s still considered one. But he can’t help but wonder if Kakashi’s smiling because he’s happier to be dead.

He acts older than he is, sometimes. He always did, but it has more weight now that he’s grown. Sakumo points it out, but Kakashi just chuckles.

“This job ages you. I feel older than I am.”

He can’t argue with that.

Soon, the conversation turns to other things. Philosophies, mutual experiences, women. He’s a little more subdued on that last one. He hesitates now, he’s more cryptic. There does seem to be one, Sakumo figures that much, though Kakashi’s reluctant to call it that. He isn’t as open out there as he is here. It’s no wonder. Everything that’s meant anything has been snatched away regardless of his will. Still, it seems that she’s a source of infuriation and confusion. She’s stubborn, but endlessly kind. She sees through Kakashi’s reluctant attempts at distance, and he’s drawn to her, whether he likes it or not. He shows absolutely no regret for being dead, but the only clue of it is when he talks about her. Sakumo lets it end there.

Eventually, they both have to acknowledge it. How miserable their lives have been, how they’ve died so young. A cursed pair. The burden of the suicide hangs over them both, their stories and their fates, like a cloud, in this strange place that has no sky.

“You did the best you could. You knew what the consequences would be, but you chose your friends anyway,” Kakashi says first. He’s only stating facts, but they’re heavy on his tongue. His gaze is locked on the fire ahead, and his voice takes on a gruff timber, one that ensures Sakumo of the depth of his words. He pauses. “And I understand you. I’m proud to be your son now.”

Sakumo’s eyes widen.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

It’s all he can say. After everything, it’s too much, too difficult to accept. It took hearing it to actually realise it, for the weight he’s carried on his shoulders for so long to begin to dissipate. It’s not entirely dissimilar to the first time Kakashi had wrapped his tiny fist so fiercely and as-a-matter-of-factly around his finger all those years ago. Where his confidence and courage promptly returned. He never knew he needed it so badly, that it would be more freeing than his death was - forgiveness - even if he was never going to ask for it.

It’s a miracle, but somehow, it’s happened. He’ll never admit it has anything to do with him, but Kakashi’s grown. He’s grown well. He’s learnt everything he hoped he would, and he’s more than he could have ever hoped. It wasn’t easy. Life had put him through the wringer to say the least - that much was obvious before Kakashi even joined him at the fire. But he did it. He managed.

A father’s most important and most horrible duty is to leave their children to the wilderness - was that how the old adage went? He can’t remember. But they have to, because he won’t be there forever, because the world will eat them alive if they don’t. You offer up your only son up to the world, in the hopes it won’t chew him up and spit it out, and that he might come out better for it. It’s as much of a horror as it is an honour. He didn’t mean to leave him that viscerally, and he’s still so sorry - but he can’t deny that for the first time in God knows how long, he feels lucky. He doesn’t deserve Kakashi’s forgiveness, for him to grow up to be the man he is, but here he is.

Still, Kakashi’s a little too eager to come here. It’s the most wrenching thing about this, that he seems too comfortable, that he seems to have been waiting for his death. It’s the only thing he can’t accept, as a father. He doesn’t want to accept that his son’s life has been that miserable, with so little to show for it. Even if he seems satisfied to be here.

Before he can even voice it, a light emerges, starting at Kakashi’s core and soon engulfing his entire being. The fire beside them stills for a moment, but then it sizzles with a vengeance. He turns to his father in shock, looking for an explanation in the wordless way a child does.

Sakumo provides it immediately. He’s not sure, but he wants it to be true. “My guess is… It’s too soon for you. There must be something you still have to do.”

He doesn’t offer any explanation as to what, but it has to be true. He should get more than he has. He can’t be so happy to come here. They both could’t have been in such a hurry to die. It’s too tragic, too terrible. A son shouldn’t be lonelier than his father.

Kakashi ruminates on it, and he suddenly looks like the young man he is. Not a tired war veteran. It’s even more obvious how untimely this all is.

But it hasn’t been meaningless.

“I’m grateful we had a chance to talk. Thank you forgiving me. Now I can move on, and finally see your mother again,” he continues. I’m proud of you too, Sakumo thinks, just like he thought so many times during the boy’s childhood, and countless times during this strange meeting. But he has no right to say it. Still, Kakashi looks at him with those same wide eyes from all those years ago, heeding his words with the same awe.

The harsh, green glow rips Kakashi away from this world and back. Just like his birth. Sakumo smiles and stands, the stretch alighting and aching through his soul - it feels physical, even though he’s no longer corporeal. Tall, encouraged, proud and determined.

(It’s been so long since he last stood.)

It won’t be long now. He has his own exit now.

The fire suddenly quickens, expanding, expanding, expanding, fighting for its last breath, its rustling turning into a desperate roar, sparks flying out past the wood - until at long last, its energy dwindles. It hisses in protest.

Instead, there’s a new warmth. Somewhere, somewhere far away yet somewhere so close. An amused, feminine hum of his name travels through his being and invigorates his soul. He smiles.

The flame flickers out.

親はなくても子は育つ

Even without parents, children grow up.

#sakumo hatake #kakashi hatake #naruto #hatake kakashi #hatake sakumo #kakashi #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #pfwrites #anyway i'm finally done #i'm so sorry if you were expecting something super long given how long i've been talking about this #but consider that i'm stupid can't write and can't concentrate and it'll make sense #i would love to know your thoughts on this cuz i'm trying a lot of new things here #and this is a very vulnerable thing to share for me #because the themes and ideas have been in my head for so long #also read my author's notes in the ao3 link if you want more context because THEY ARE LONG #i'm thinking of writing a kakashi POV version which i'm sure'll be less depressing... probably #but not sure yet. let me know if you think i should #btw i know my music taste is extremely roast-worthy #also tmi but i have zero relationship with my father and i'm neither a father nor a son why do i have so much empathy for fatherhood???

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years ago

Text

FUCK OFF!

Masterlist

You and Bruce get to the bottom of your youngests Anxiety fueled Mutism.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst ,Bullying ,Racial bullying? ,Fluff , Humor

A/N: This is a request from @babydork10 Tried to make this as accurate as I could did have to do a bit of reading up on the topic and hope I have done it justice and you all enjoy xx

Taglist: @125bluemachine125 @iloveyouyen @thefangirlsblog

You and Bruce looked at one another across the kitchen, you where having a disagreement. Not an argument. Bruce thinks that its time to start helping your youngest with his selective mutism by taking him to the funday fundraiser for the brand new Martha Wayne foundation, a new charity for the underprivileged children of Gotham. It was going to try and build a new school with decent education giving these kids equal opportunities to go to college and university, to make it out of the...Harsher side of Gotham city. Sure the day was going to be fun for the kids, Bruce had pulled in a small fair ground and one of those ridiculous inflatable playgrounds you how ever think its to soon.

"Look the Drs said its caused by a severe anxiety, fear! I just- I want to help him y/n I don't want my boy to grow up..." he cut him self off and you growled hissing at him.

"Mute? Is that it Bruce? You don't want him to be mute? I mean he can't grow up to be the next Robin if he can't talk right?" He growled voice dropping low and dangerous he slammed his hands down on the counter.

"THAT'S FUCKING!-that was unfair..you know I didn't mean that at all!" You held his gaze not the least bit intimidated you know he would never hurt you deep down. You sighed and leaned back against the counter crossing you arms.

"I-I don't want him to grow up scared...Thought that we could-if it was with other kids he might open up a little" you sighed rolling your eyes

"Its anxiety based Bruce social anxiety fuck-sure sure lets put our boy our socially anxious little boy into a fucking fairground with hundreds of kids he doesn't know! where there will be cameras and reporters and and-fuck Bruce it will be hell for him there!" He growled

"He will know some of them! Some of his class mates are coming...And you know what!? At least its something god damn it! Its fear he is scared don't you get that! He is frightened to interact! To speak to anyone fuck sake he won't even speak to Damien or Tim! Y/n! And they live here...fucking hell, woman..You know? at least I'm trying!" You flew from the counted to the island he was leaning on pointing at him really pissed now.

"OH WHAT AND I’M FUCKING NOT? COME ON TELL ME? HONESTLY BRUCE YOU THINK I’M NOT TRYING? THAT I DON'T SPEND HOURS UPON HOURS UP AT NIGHT TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHERE I WENT WRONG? THAT-THAT SOMEHOW THIS COULD BE MY FAULT!?" you screamed at him across the kitchen your shout echoing off every surface tears streaming down your face a you shook in anger and despair you were so happy the boys where at school you never ever wanted them to see this back and forth especially Roman.

Bruce shook his head at you and made his way to you he opened his arms holding you softly as you wept into your hands.

"Shh shh I-I'm sorry I didn't mean that its not your fault...its not anyone’s fault...I just I see my boy hurting, he wants to interact to play and make friends and I want to help him but I don’t know how....I was just hoping you know the rides and games would take his mind off of the people around him and he could...I don’t know prove to himself its okay, he can make friends and talk to others...That was all love, I wanted to give him the chance" you whined into his shoulder as he help you cupping the back of your head ruffling your hair you turned placing a kiss on his neck before nodding.

"....Okay, we can-we can give it a shot but don't push him Bruce they said he could grow out of it"

"They also said it can be a confidence thing...Fuck it could be o many things! We-I just want to help him, he is such a sweet funny kid I just want everyone to see what an amazing little boy he is!" You smiled nodding up at him.

"I know you want to show him off, a big proud papa... I do to I- I just worry to much" Bruce wrapped his arms around you holding you tight. He was worried for Romans future you both were, he place a soft kiss on your head rocking you back and forth.

"I know you are worried I am to...But we have to try, the boys will be around watching and Alfred to I just want to give him what he needs but-" you took a deep breath on his cologne then moved to rest your ear over his heart listening to the soothing pulse beneath.

"I-I know its hard not knowing what he needs...As parents its our job but...But with this? Its- your right as uncomfortable as it is for us we need to try for his sake...never know he might make a friend" Bruce took a shaking breath and rubbed your arms encouragingly.

"He might do, we do whats best, we try and that's all we can do...come on lets go let Alfred know we don't need him to babysit"

You moved across your youngest bed room he was looking at you slowly blinking his hazel eyes followed you as you ran around grabbing his new outfit. A pair of dark wash ripped jeans and a loose fitting button up shirt. Hopefully he would be able to climb and play in it.

"Mummy...What are you doing?" You took a deep breath and looked down you dreaded this. You smiled and twisted round sitting on the bed and patted for Roman to sit beside you. He did still looking at you cutely as you handed him his clothes he instantly began pulling on the shirt waiting for your reply.

"Well.. Your father and I....As you know we are having a fundraiser today...And its for your Nana's charity....And we were going to take you with us...Its going to be some much fun! your father pulled out all the stops! Theres going to be a fairground with rides and popcorn and candyfloss and a big inflatable playground-"

"Why?" What? You faltered

"What do you mean love? Why what?" He looked down fiddling with a thread on his 'trendy' ripped jeans that his father hated but you wanted him to fit in today to have the best chance, you leaned in placing a hand to his back rubbing slowly.

"Why are you taking me? Won't I embarrass you?" You frowned and kneeled down before him

"Embarrass- OH Roman no! No you have never ever embarrassed us never- do you hear me? My sweet sweet child! Don't you ever think that for a second...Roman Thomas Wayne you look at me" At his full name he looked up at you blinking away tears sniffling softly.

"B-But I don't talk mummy?! isn't that bad? don't people laugh at you and daddy when you take me out?" you gasped

"Laugh? who? who laughs at you my love?"

"....everyone! At school they laugh! a-and when we go out to dinner and when i go with you to see daddy at the office! I try mummy I do try I promise! I just don't-Can't the other parents have to laugh to!..I don't want to go!" you shook your head trying to fight tears seeing how worked up he was getting panting and panicking...This was a bad idea!

"Roman-Roro listen to me...You are my son! My little boy and you have nothing-nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of and don't you worry about what other people think, they are just jealous...You are my special little man! I love you, We love you so very much and we will protect you your brothers included!"

"Damien he and Tim hate me-I cant even talk to them! I love them and Jason and Dick but I can't- they don't know that!-"

"That is one of the silliest things you've ever said and I don't ever want to hear you say that again Roman" you and Roman gasped seeing Bruce slink into the room silently creeping.

"But Daddy-" Bruce waved a hand at him.

"No buts about it Roman...Your brothers love you to death! all four of them and they always will you here me? you might not say it but they know you love them back....There is nothing to be embarrassed about, today is about having some fun you can play with the other kids or stay with your mother and I its your choice...I hope you have a little fun at least go on some rides!" His face lit up

"Re-really daddy? they love me?" You smiled as Roman peeked at Bruce hopefully

"Of course they do! today I want you to enjoy yourself and eat as much cotton candy as you can! Now enough of all this get your- are you really wearing those?" Roman looked down to the jeans on his lap and nodded then quickly slipped them on slowly getting himself all excited he had one hell of a sweet tooth and you can get much sweeter then cotton candy...You'd be lying if you said you wasn't looking forward to it yourself.

"Okay...I will come and...Mummy? Willl-will there be pictures?" You blinked looking to Bruce this was new.

"Pictures? Like the press you mean?" He nodded

"Uh huh Like uncle Clark and aunt Lois" Bruce and you shared a look frowning why was Roman worried about the press?

"Yeah buddy just a few...Your uncle and aunt wont be there though just some people from Gotham....But after we have a picture of the family then will leave us alone...Don't you worry about them you just have fun tonight!" You had a horrid sinking feeling...why the fuck was your seven year old wary of the fucking paps? What has happened for him to be dubious over photos? Roman have an uneasy look but kept quiet prompting you to ask

"Roman love....Is everything alright? You know if anyone has done anything you can tell your father and I? We can fix it..." he smiled a false smile.

"I'm okay mummy....Can we go now?"you looked incredulously as Bruce but nodded."Sure honey go get your shoes on...the black hi-tops your going to need grip on the rides!" He smiled running down the hall

"Bruce-"

"I know love...I will look into it tonight but I picked upon it to"

The car ride was fairly quiet the tension was thick, you knew both Tim and Damien were wondering about how roman would take this but they chose to keep their comments to themselves. You and Bruce were up front Damien and Tim in the back with Roman snugly tuck in the middle. Damien and Tim were bickering over there younger brothers head. you rolled your eyes at them.

"I'm gonna kick your ass drake!" Tim grumbled

"Whatever you helps you sleep at night hell spawn! mini games are my thing!"

"Fuck you-"

"Damien language! and that's enough both of you- if you start this competitive bullshit today you'll get Jason involved and I don't want to have to deal with your bitching when he kicks both your asses on the shoot a duck!!" you looked back to the three boys. both teens grumbled you frowned.

"Roman are you alright honey? your pale...Is it your tummy?" he nodded and both brothers shared a look over him. Bruce did a quick check in the mirror and took a breath.

"In your bag I'm sure I put some in there" you nodded pulling your bag to your lap and puled out a small bottle of pills, What people didn't realize about Romans condition is there was a whole host of symptoms. Just like adult anxiety there were tummy aches, migraines, diarrhea, sickness, nausea and the most frightening of all was chest pains. you huffed you didn't have a water bottle. Fuck.

"Damien? Tim? you got any water for your brother to take his medicine?" at your request they both quickly routed around in their man bags for a water bottle Tim was first handing it to Roman who took the medicine quickly as always. you smiled to him reassuringly.

"Trust me love...There is nothing to worry over- just a fun day at the fair! okay? Just stick with one of us" Damien nodded

"Yeah you can come play with us! we can beat drake together on the mini games! he can fall to our superior genes!" Roman smiled to Damien warily making the teen smile and ruffle the boys hair.

"ha! as if Roro wants to help me wipe the floor with you! don't you Ro? after all if your as good as you say then you wont need the help!" you rolled your eyes as the two began their bickering again

"oh for fuck sake-" you were stopped by Bruce placing a hand on your thigh nodding subtly to them and you of what he was hinting to. Roman was happy smiling wide looking between his brothers, seemingly happy to be included. you sat back facing forward .

"He will be fine just give him a little space today see where it leads, I've asked the boys to watch the other parents and paps today...I have an idea about something want to confirm it first"

"About what? Roman? what do you think-" you were cut off with a patt on the leg from Bruce and a raised eyebrow.

"Just leave it with me...I will know by the end of the day but...with what he was saying to you i think...well i think he is stressing over what people think of us because of him..just let me do my thing today okay? I'm not the worlds greatest detective for nothing~" you nodded still not understanding fully but you trusted Bruce and the boys they would sort it you hoped.

Finally you arrived Jason and Dick came over giving both you and Bruce hugs and picking up roman making him release a soundless squeal at being spun around. Damien was quick to bitch at them about his tummy ache and snatch him away giving the small boy a piggy back waltzing to the fair muttering about the imbeciles.

Hhow the little boy could doubt any of his brothers could hate him was beyond you, they each doted on him spoilt him rotten! if mum and dad said no you can guarantee Dick, Jason,Damien or Tim would make it happen. Much to the annoyance of you and Bruce. Once the initial speech was over and Bruce had convinced the wealthy to start digging into their pockets a few family photos were taken. you had noticed a few whispers about Romans appearance and quickly shut up the gossipers with a deadly glare as Roman clung to either you or his dad refusing to go with Damien and Tim to the mini shooting games. You sighed when you finally got a moment to breath away from the cameras who seemed to cling to you and Roman.

It was true you didn't normally have your youngest about, it was common knowledge that he was mute and shy so the paps had been adamant that they got as many photos of the boy as they could,much to your annoyance. you swore as he held you tighter as you moved quickly loosing them in the crowds. you turned a corner and rested a hand on Romans head calming him looking around spotting Bruce who was bombarded by his 'friends' a bunch of puffed up ignorant posh clingy twats! wanting to be seen with the infamous Wayne patriarch. you looked down as Roman tugged your sleeve and pointed, you followed hi gaze to the small cup stack mini game where there was a bunch of kids lining up. you smiled down at him and nodded patting his back.

"Go on then baby, go have fun and don't let anyone ask for money! your father has paid for free reign for everyone okay?" he nodded and walked over to the back of the line. you sighed standing stiff watching him closely you noticed that Dick was also near by watching over his baby brother closely making you feel better.

Roman came to a stop looking up at the nets of huge stuffed animals they had a wide selection he smiled seeing a massive great white shark! it was taller then him! he lined up behind the other kids waiting his turn."Hi!" he turned to around seeing a little girl around his age she was dark skinned with a mass of wild natural hair in two pompoms on her head. Roman gulped looking around seeing if sh could be talking to anyone else and she giggled.

"Yes you! that shark is cool huh?" Roman was unsure what to do he didn't want to be rude but at the same time was out of his comfort zone. he settled for nodding and looked back up at it.

"Oh...your shy huh? that's okay! I'm not...You think that's the size of a real one?" she asked looking to the toy hanging above them as the line moved forward. Roman shook his head at her, he knew they were bigger his uncle Arthur had shown him a real great white shark...His mother had to be dragged off of him by uncle Clark after...even uncle Clark had trouble getting her off him..

Roman shook his head and gulped deciding to try and communicate...this girl looked nice and...he doubted she was going away soon the line was long. he blinked and took a deep breath before releasing trying to calm his heart down and made a move signaling to the toy then made a 'smaller' motion hoping she understood. She looked to him then the toy nodding.

"Yeah! your right its probably to small!! but its cool right? I've been trying to win it all day!...Got the seal though see!!" roman smiled a warm feeling slowly bubbling up she had understood. she held out her seal to him letting him prod it, it was fat and squishy making him smile.

"I'm gonna get that shark!" Roman smirked a little looking back up taking another step to the front as more kids left holding various sized sea life prizes, some looked up longingly to the line of huge sharks on the nets you had to knock all ten cups down five times to get one...

"Oooo look! look a tiger shark!! wow I want that one you think I can?!" Libby go excited bouncing up and down placing her hands on Roman’s shoulders. He turned seeing the one at the back with light blue stripes and nodded then pointed to the octopus on the shelf below

"Wow that's cool to...You gonna go for that one? or jaws~" he tilted his head and pointed to the Great white. Libby smiled standing next to him.

"I'm gonna win the tiger shark today!" Roman's eye widened as he heard a familiar laugh

"Ha like you can get that one! scrawny arms like that! you know I'm gonna get it just so you cant have it move!" Roman frowned as some bullies from his class pushed him and Libby shoving the two of them behind their group cutting the line.

"HEY! YOU CANT DO THAT! I'M TELLING ON YOU!" Roman glared at them standing between the small group and Libby. Micky the leader sneered at him.

"What Wayne got something to say? well come on spit it out! oh wait you can't- Dumbo...Don't even know how to talk~ tell me this your little girlfriend? won't even stand up for her-" Roman growled angrily as two of the boys starting mocking them

"Romans got a little girlfriend! ha! what daddy paying her to be friends with you?!" Libby began whining as they began pulling at her pompoms tugging her curly hair harshly.

"Ew look this is her hair! god its gross and fluffy!" Roman panicked and slapped at the boys hands stopping their attempts but one pushed the smaller girl to the floor out of the line as Libby began crying loudly drawing the attention of the adults around them...More specifically the attention of Romans family.

"FUCK OFF!!!" everyone froze as roman shouted to the boys loud and clear.

You had been watching as a little girl approached Roman with her toy, she seemed nice and unfazed by Romans...Situation and you felt a rush of relief as she continued making conversation with him...well Roman-esque chatter as he began pointing at the toys. You looked away as dick came over to you.

"So? things are going well...Looks like today is working huh Mum?" you smiled nodding looking to your oldest.

"Yes- I was worried but...you know I underestimate your father sometimes especially with roman.." dick smiled slinging an arm around your shoulder kissing your head.

"Do-do you know whats going on your father said something about Roman’s issue? that he as an idea but wouldn't explain more then that" dick hissed through his teeth.

"Not entirely sure myself-" you were both interrupted as you heard a loud crying form where roman was. some kids- boys from Romans class had come over and pushed the little girl down and were pulling her hair as Roman was trying to slap them away then-

"FUCK OFF!" you froze momentarily as Roman screamed at the boys and pushed with all his might making the boy loose balance and fall before crying himself. Roman stood in front of the now whining little girl shielding her from the other mean boys. You made your way over but it was to late some photographers had gotten there first and was surrounding your boy taking photos shouting out at him asking hims to 'say something else' Jason and Bruce had swooped in shoving the men out of his sons face collecting Roman and the little girl; knowing that she would also find herself questioned by the pushy journalists. you followed as Bruce continued to one of the public toilets with roman Jason followed with the little girl.

"Shit- Ro-roman oh god are you okay?" you entered just as Bruce had set him down he was bawling his eyes out panicking and holding his breath. shit shit shit. you noticed the little girl was upset and confused, she hadn't known who roman was.

you moved to crouch beside her.

"Hey poppet...are you okay?" she blinked back tears and pointed to her cut knee.

"Oh no! did those mean boys do that?" she nodded sniffling

"A-And they pulled my h-hair saying it was funny looking!! I-I like my h-hair!!" you frowned and moved to hug her careful of her cut knee.

"Oh shh shh Its okay...your hair is very pretty!" she cried louder

"I-I w-ant my mummy!"

"Whats you mummy's name- Jason can go find her do you remember what she was wearing?" she nodded choking and coughing on her sobs. you concentrated on her as Bruce and Dick helped calm down Roman.

"Joy...she has a blue dress!" you stood up but Jason was out the door returning a few moments later with the little girls mother. She looked to you and nodded thankfully as the little girl ran to her getting picked up still tearful

"Oh god Libby what happened to you? why the tears?"

"T-they were mean to him to- th-they called him names! and and made fun of him! and he tr-tried to stop them from pu-lling my hair! and-and then they p-pushed me down and I cut my knee!!!" you looked to the little girl Libby. Then Bruce who has roman in his arms now calm.

"Roman ..Those boys? they are from your school aren't they?" he nodded and you shared a look with Bruce who was rocking him back and forth still panicked himself wondering if this really was a good idea or not. But to everyone's surprise Roman spoke up in a tiny timid voice

"T-they are mean-Call me dumb....Laugh when I make sounds and laugh...Try to make me talk..Poke me with pens so I make noises" you gasped...He had never said that before...Was that? could this be it? the issues was when he made sounds they made fun and picked on him? Bruce grunted

"How long Ro? how long have they done this?" Roman shrugged and shook his head not answering for a second and Bruce pulled him back and continued in his stern no room for arguments voice

"Roman? how long have they been making fun?" Roman looked down

"Since...forever" you gasped he was being bullied at school...no wonder nothing had gotten better! normally with selective mutism as they grew up safe spaces like home and school were just that safe spaces and he'd talk confidently interact and make friends if he was being hurt at school then obviously the opposite would happen.

Damien and Tim was quiet, this was the most they'd never heard their little brother say before and it was- they were gobsmacked. Bruce sighed and nodded.

"Thank you son for telling me- you were very brave! and I'm very very proud of you...Even if it was a swear word he lifted his gaze to Damien and Tim who both gulped.

"And you were very brave to protect your friend today from those bully's....now you leave the school with me I will deal with them...Or better yet I will let your mother loose on them" as he said that all your sons shivered not wanting to cross paths with you ever they felt sorry for the teacher already. Roman gasped and looked at Bruce

"Pictures-" Bruce cupped his sons head kissing his temple

"Leave it to me- now do you want to stay and play with-" he looked to the now quiet little girl

"L-Libby sir" Bruce smiled to the polite child

"Do you want to stay and play with Libby?" roman looked to Libby who stared hopeful and nodded Bruce put him down letting him stand next to the girl he spoke in a whisper barely being heard now that he wasn't tucking himself into his fathers neck for comfort.

"I-I-I'M Ro-Roman" she smiled at him

"HI roman!! can we?- do you wanna get the sharks? and then sweets-LET GET SWEETS!!"

"Shark's?...." Roman nodded grinning looking up at Tim and Damien as they both interrupted"we will go win you the sharks...and then sweets" they looked to Libby's mother

"We will watch out for them, come on you two" you looked as the Libby looked to her mum who nodded before running over holding Tims hand Roman joined her holding Damien's.

"We will take care of them today mother meet you at the gates at four this afternoon"

"Yes you go have fun mum- I know you like the waltzers leave these two with us" you watched as they made for the exit with the tow youngsters

"Roman come and point out these kids to me and Dami-" you gasped chasing them out

"Oh no you don't!...Timothy! Damien don't you dare! you leave those boys alone! I will sort this out-" you were stopped by Bruce who was making his way out allowing the girls mother to exit first

"Y/n leave them~"

"Bruce they will beat the shit out of those kids-" he laughed winding an arm around your waist.

"No they wont...Scare them but not beat them to many witnesses~" you looked to the other woman and smiled

"Sorry about all this- would you like to get coffee? I'm sure the boys will look after them now....It seems they are on guard duty now~" she smiled and nodded still a little on edge but you were determined to become friends with this women...her little girl has done more good for your son in the last ten minuets then you and your family have managed in the last seven years!

At the end of the day you had become closer to Libby's mother Joy and had invited her over the next day for tea it turns out you and the woman had a lot in common which made things easier. you waited at the gates and laughed as not only were Tim and Dami walking out with huge stuffed animals but Dick and Jason were trailing behind each holding a collection of won prizes. Roman and Libby were both ecstatic each holding a huge shark and a few sealed bags of cotton candy.

"Oh my- Jason I never thought pink was your colour~"

"ha ha! mum real funny not these are for the little miss Libby!" the girl was bouncing on the spot

"Mummy-Mummy look Jason got me the unicorn and the minion and the batman!!! see see look mummy he won them for me! he is really good at the shooting games!!" Joy chuckled and moved around her buzzing child

"Thank you boys...she has been looking forward to this for a long time""Jason's my boyfriend to! see he won me a ring! we are getting married!" you and Bruce chuckled as Jason blushed as the Libby showed her mother the small plastic ring excitedly.

"Ah I see well we should be getting home now...Say bye bye and we will see Roman tomorrow"

"Tomorrow? oh are we coming back!!" you chuckled as she got all excited again

"No but you are coming over tomorrow to play with roman how does that sound?" she gasped and looked to you then her mum ,Roman looked hopeful at you to.

"Really?! can I bring my shark?!" you nodded

"Of course you can bring your shark now, we better get home for dinner...we will see you tomorrow Libby, see you Joy..Jason can you take them to Mrs Mouvins car!" Damien snickered

"Yeah go help your girlfriend~" Jason grunted

"Shes not my fucking-" he was interrupted by Libby coming up and grasping his hand dragging him away.

"Come on Jason! don't get lost!" you couldn't help it you laughed loudly with the boys as Jason flushed bright as the child dragged him to there car. you looked to roman

"So you have a good day?" he nodded then paused looking around blinking taking a deep shaky breath then stuttered out quiet words.

"Y-yes ....was f-fun with Dami and Tim" both of which beamed tugging him into hugs.

"Wait a go buddy!" Tim's said giving him a noogy with the flat of his fist making roman wince and chuckle softly Damien spoke up next pulling him into a tight hug.

"We knew you had it in you! first words of fuck you though? your kick ass"

"Yeah who'd of thunk it?" Tim continued Bruce folded his arms eye Damien again

"Yes I wound where he gets it from? huh Damien? I'm sure he must have heard it around the house isn't that right Damien"

"Oh shit" you smirked as you all began your trek to the car

"Oh shit is right my boy! your doing double drills tonight!"

"Huh that's not fucking fair-"

"Triple"

"What the fuck? Why?"

"Quadruple and for being a bad influence on your brother- I don't know what your laughing Timothy your spotting him to make sure he does it"

"What?! why? what about patrol?!"Tim admonished

"Dick and Jason are going with me and if there is so much as one more word about it you'll be doing it tomorrow night as well!" you snickered as both teens held there breath biting back retorts knowing Bruce wasn't fucking around. You turned peeking through the center console to look as Roman.

"AANYway Roman you don't mind having Libby around tomorrow for a play date do you?" Roman blushed as leaned back as Bruce started the car pulling away, smiling he shook his head. No he didn't mind he liked her a lot.

That was the day that changed everything. Roman had anxiety but it wasn't so much as social it was more over the family image. You learned he had been picked on for not speaking and then picked on to make him talk, then when it did make sounds they bullied him even more for making noise!! the whole vicious cycle had gone unnoticed but after one meeting with you everything was fixed. Roman still didn't speak at school it would take time but he was getting better. All in all he was stressed and anxious little boy terrified of screwing up! he didn't want to say the wrong thing in front of the paparazzi or cameras. He was aware of the family's status and had anxiety over that not necessarily people. All of this fear and stress built up on a seven year olds shoulders resulting in his Mutism. Which was now slowly going away! he spoke freely around the house, some times he stuttered and spoke in whispers but it was much much better.

Damien and Tim both loved hearing there little brother talk after going so long not hearing a peep. Both breaking down in tears when Roman first told them he loved them...Not that either would admit it but you had dealt with the sobbing teens that evening giving both long cuddles in the privacy of their rooms. thing's were looking up and with Libby coming around all the time it could only get better!. it was incredible! when with her it as like roman was free, a normal loud boisterous little boy. You were hopeful for the future especially when Bruce was paying for Libby to start school with Roman next term paying for her full education much to the reluctance of her mother. Joy didn't want to be indebted but you but had when you and Bruce explained what was going on... She couldn't refuse that it was a good idea, Libby would have a much better chance in life, for her daughters sake she agreed. and you hoped it was the next step in prying Roman out of his shell.

#bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce Wayne x batfam

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onisionisacanceronthisearth · 5 years ago

Text

Why we care about Onision and Coolguykai’s kids (Masterlist)

There’s a lot of information floating around about the kids but I don’t know if anyone has made a post compiling it all together so I figured I would do so. Also because an “argument” used again the anti-o community is that “we’re creepy for even thinking about kids” so I figured I’d show that we’re not just thinking about them for no real reason. For some slight background information, they have an older son around age 7 and a younger daughter around age 4. This is written in bullet form under the cut with bold sections for easier/quicker reading for those who would prefer that. Feel free to add more if you know anything and I’ll keep updating this post. Eli=Kai

Update: The girl fell 12 feat out the second story window to the ground giving her a depressed skull fracture. This was because Kai was cooking and left the child alone in a room with the tv and a caprisun while they were cooking and James was in the garage. The right side of her head was caved in and requires constant monitoring. The girl was known to climb the furniture and also known for standing at windows by the couple which is why the windows are supposedly kept locked to protect her. Even then, she was left totally without supervision and fell as far as she did right onto the driveway. She may have serious brain damage. James filmed her body while Kai comforted her because he was paranoid it would be seen as his fault (the video wouldn’t absolve him of anything, he’s just an low IQ dumbass). James also made a lot of awful sexually themed tweets while he was in the hospital with his potentially dying daughter. Here and here are links to the full police report, the daughter’s name was redacted due to her age

Greg refuses to talk with children who cannot speak properly yet. Besides the obvious stupidity behind this (children learn to talk from being spoken to), giving a child the impression that they are only recognized for what they can do for their parents is an emotionally damaging thing to do. It’s also damaging to show emotional neglect which Greg is doing by not caring for his children beyond the uses he has for them

Greg and Eli will have sex in front of their kids and while sharing a bed with them. Early exposure to sex is harmful for kids and despite the obvious fact that Greg isn’t a dom, he still does have rough and harmful sex with Eli and the other girls they bring in for threesomes. We have seen the marks on Eli’s neck, we now know those kids likely have seen Greg give them to him. There was an incident where the boy was in the room on a tablet while his parents were going at it right in front of him as well as the now infamous story that the first time Sarah had a threesome with the couple (Greg and Eli suddenly started having sex without Sarah’s knowledge or consent then she joined after), the daughter was in the bed with them too. They would start and stop sex as the girl kept waking up because they were right beside her on the same bed

During a blackout once, Eli decided to vlog about it. In the video you can see one of the children under the table with a tablet shining in their eyes. Instead of comforting the kids they were told to hide under the table with a tablet while their parents vlogged about it. The parents then promptly went out to eat. It’s unsure if the kids went with them (we didn’t see them in the vlog) so either the kids were out with them while their parents spoke quite vulgar in the car, or the “loving” parents left their two very young children alone at home during a blackout with nothing but some tablets to keep them happy

Overall it does seem like the parents think that tablets are an adequate babysitter for toddlers. Even if that toddler isn’t in the same room as them. That is very obviously not safe nor a good substitute for caring for a child. Given the accident the girl had, it’s clear they think that if they leave an active toddler in a closed room, totally out of sight, with a tv that that’s safe

They chose to parent their children using the “gentle” and “attachment” parenting techniques. They do not implement these styles properly however on top of the possible negative effects of these parenting techniques. This has resulted in:

Not ending breastfeeding at an appropriate time or with the proper care required for prolonged feeding

Breastfeeding at night without brushing teeth afterwards resulting in the boy losing his teeth at age 2

The boy not being told to not be physically violent with his sister or dealing with the child’s violence but instead instructing him to punch Greg instead (the boy will push his sister off the couch for example).

Sleeping with the children despite the couple clearly wanting sex constantly as mentioned above

And all the other complications of never telling your child no, never introducing new things to them or imposing rules or restrictions, having one parent refuse to give you boundaries while another that doesn’t even care to talk to you half the time, etc. The parenting style is meant to be gentle, but this results in, as stated above, not telling the children not to hurt people either

The children supposedly only had one friend (or at least the boy did) which was Maddie’s daughter. Greg and Eli spontaneously decided to end their relationship with Maddie resulting in their son losing his only friend and playmate. Given the nature of the split from Maddie, it’s clear their son was not a factor in the decision at all (not saying you have to remain friends with someone for the sake of your kids but the decision to drop Maddie was bullshit and clearly selfish)

While baby sitting his and Maddie’s kids, Greg refused to change Maddie’s daughter’s diaper and didn’t even bother telling Maddie about the diaper being full. This resulted in Maddie coming back to find her daughter covered in feces and it had been on her daughter long enough that the resulting rash caused her daughter to bleed. Greg clearly doesn’t give a shit about babies (no pun intended) and makes me wonder how often his children’s diapers were messy and he did nothing about it

The Jackson house is FILTHY and not suitable for children. Just recently I posted one of Eli’s videos and it contained a part where Eli saw the dog walking around with food in its mouth that Eli didn’t even know where it came from and not even phased by it. Food being left out is a mold and bacterial hazard on its own, very harmful for children. But it’s also teaching kids bad habits and also if the dog could find it, kids could too and toddlers love putting things in their mouths

Greg used to have a large sex doll that had no business being in a small house with children running around with no supervision

Greg’s initial wetland work created a direct line to the lake they live on, that’s a serious drowning hazard, especially for someone who didn’t think he could watch to make sure his kids wouldn’t walk to a tree that could hurt them. He has also now planted (or at least bought) poisonous bright red berries among a bunch of edible ones. So much for worrying about the kids...

The diet of the Jackson family is atrocious. It’s already showing negative effects on the parents but that is much less dangerous than having malnutritioned children. The children are growing and developing and they require proper nutrition for this, not doing so can result in many dangerous complications on top of both mental and physical stunting of growth.

Update: Greg’s daughter has been seen recently in a video and yes, she is crazy small for her age

Greg has been reported as yelling at his child and blaming said child for “causing them to lose” a game. This was reported by Maya while the three of them were playing a video game and were teamed up together. Greg literally yelled at his toddler for not being perfect at a fucking video game not only turning the game into being about winning, but putting expectations on a child that just should not be the case. As a parent, and even as a younger sibling it can even be beneficial to let them win because otherwise it would be unfair to play any games with them, especially those requiring larger amounts of skill. You wouldn’t expect David Beckham to play soccer with his kids with the same vigor he’d play professionally would you? And if you’re playing a game as a team with your kid and you want to win, it’s up to you to play better to make up for the obvious difference in skill when a toddler is playing

Speaking of Maya, when yelling at her for refusing his advances he spontaneously laid on her without her consent and with no real warning (it was intended for her to be another one of Eli’s girlfriends and she was brought over, as far as she knew, to meet with Eli to see if they were compatible in person), Greg was actually holding his child and running in and out of the room screaming at her. The subject matter alone was inappropriate for a child to hear (Greg asking why she was not sexually attracted to him because “everyone was” for example), let alone being carried by a screaming man running around the house. It almost seemed as if Greg decided to use his child as a human shield because there was no other reason for him to pick up a child to bring to a room where he was going to scream at a young woman. The child couldn’t even leave if he wanted to because he was being held

There was audio in the background of one of Eli’s videos where you can hear Greg scream to “take some fucking responsibility for once”. This was either directed at one of his very young children, or yelled at someone else in the house or on the phone loud enough for the children to hear. Again, not a good environment for these children to grow up in

During a livestream the boy once entered the room to tell Greg that he loved him, Greg didn’t respond back in kind. I get that Greg likely wanted to get the kid out of the livestream for his so-called privacy, but that doesn’t stop him from from quickly responding to the kid while doing so. Especially in a private livestream with people who know of your kids and are waiting in line to enter into the household as a third

The children get to watch Eli flinch and otherwise act scared of Greg, they may not understand it, but their brains will remember this. It is also encouraging them to be more scared of their father than they already likely are

James gets mad if Kai turns on the heat even in January. Toddlers and children can be quite sensitive to the cold and it doesn’t matter how he feels, what matters is his children (which clearly isn’t how he feels)

Update: A recent video of the girl has shown that her hair is a sad mess. At that age the girl’s hair should be bright, shiney, and healthy looking. Unfortunately it is unkempt and dull. It would look like her hair is washed too often with bad products and not brushed as it should be on top of visual signs of deficiencies leading to unhealthy hair. I’d take a potshot and assume this child were deficient in amino acids and other healthy fats if she were brought to me (disclaimer: I cannot officially diagnose anyone over the internet). It may also be due to her horrific accident

#onision #coolguykai #laineybot #onision and his kids

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hirazuki · 4 years ago

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Ooo I'm curious about your hot takes on the Inuyasha reboot after reading your tags 👀

Ahaha, where to start XD Idk if they are hot takes, but here are my thoughts in bullet point form for coherency, I couldn’t figure out how else to organize them. Under a cut, as usual, because it got lengthy... as usual :D

We are 13 episodes in, and I still have no idea wtf is going on or what the series is actually about. And yes, I’m aware that we didn’t know of Naraku’s existence or of the overarching plot until at least episode 16 of that series either and Inuyasha was still very episodic in nature at that early point too, but here’s the thing: Inuyasha did not build upon a pre-existing series. For better or for worse, Yashahime has certain expectations to live up to that the original anime didn’t, by virtue of its being a sequel. Unfair? Maybe, but tough; that’s what happens when you make a sequel. Additionally, despite us not knowing The Main Plot™ of Inuyasha until later, the basic framework for it was laid out clearly by... episode 2? I think? Find and collect the Shikon Jewel shards. Boom, done. Were there distractions or fillers? Sure, but you never got the sense that the characters simply up and forgot about the shards. Even in fillers, the shards often made some kind of appearance. With Yashahime, there’s like three potential storylines going on: 1. The most obvious: most of our main cast from the OG is missing; where are they? Apparently no one in-story cares! :D Inuyasha, who’s that lol. I’m all for a sequel focusing on the new generation with cameos of the old crew; after all, they already had their own series. But this is like... no one cares about them? No one talks about them? And the more characters go about not mentioning them, the stronger their absence is felt. Like, for instance, Kaede knows Moroha is InuKag’s daughter. Moroha grew up on her own, doesn’t know her parents. Kaede doesn’t mention them to Moroha, doesn’t even spare a passing thought about them for the audience’s benefit, Moroha doesn’t ask. Kagome’s family in the present day meet Moroha, recognize her as Kagome’s daughter and... say nothing??? Souta shows Towa Kagome and Inuyasha’s old photos, but doesn’t say a word to Moroha?! Like. It makes no sense. By people not even acknowledging their existence, it makes the fact that they are nowhere to be found even weirder. Also the new gen girls don’t care about their parents or finding out who they were/are... like, okay, it would maybe be in character for one or two of them, but all three don’t give a fuck??? 2. Kirinmaru/the rainbow pearls: Idk how familiar you are with the story, but similar deal with Naraku and the shards here. Kirinmaru is being set up as the villain, still a mysterious figure; our new gen trio is supposed to collect the rainbow pearls that... some of his henchmen have? Or he is after them? Or is that Riku? Unclear. ANYWAY the new gen girls often forget all about the pearls’ existence :D 3. Setsuna’s memories: Setsuna’s dreams have been stolen by the dream butterfly and they need to get them back, because without her dreams she has no memories and is unable to sleep. Cool! Finally a solid, easy-to-follow plot line! Except wait! Towa, who supposedly made it her goal to get Setsuna’s sleep back, forgets all about it! All the time! Like, none of them make an effort to look into this other than being like “oh yeah, know anything about the dream butterfly?” to random folks every now and then. The Inugang back in the day was putting some grad school level research towards their goals, just saying. It just feels like everything’s all wishy-washy and there’s nothing really solid tying the series together. People just remember shit exists when it’s convenient.

Character development is MIA. I’m not expecting ground-breaking char dev in 13 episodes (though I do know 12 episode series that were phenomenal in that regard), but like... I do expect the series to focus on building the dynamics between the main three characters. So far, the series is more focused on teasing the audience with glimpses and promises of the OG cast instead. The creators are using nostalgia and bait (esp of a certain pairing) to drive interest in the series, rather than developing the new characters as fully-fledged characters for their own sakes.

Moroha is was the only thing I actually liked about the series. She is a little spitfire and you can somehow instantly see both Inuyasha and Kagome in her, while she also remains very uniquely herself; I have never seen such a successfully developed main pairing child in any series. She featured quite prominently in the first few episodes -- and unlike both her parents, she’s got a great memory and knowledge of lore -- where she balanced funny moments with badass fighting moments and being the token supernatural encyclopedia. It was great! And then... they’ve like... forgotten her. She’s been left behind so many times by the twins. She’s the butt of every joke. She’s become the type of comic relief that’s, well, insulting. More like a buffoon than anything else. And it’s basically all for the sake of giving the floor to Towa :/

Setsuna is okay. Not offensive, but unremarkable. She’s got her dad’s personality but like way toned down due to her different growing up circumstances, which is nice, but like... I feel she isn’t given any room to grow or breathe or anything. She’s also basically there as a device to enhance Towa’s development.

Towa... oy. I tried to like her, I really did, but she just doesn’t work for me. They set her up having a very Kurosaki Ichigo type deal with beating up bullies and getting into trouble at school and shit -- I’m fine with that. That’s cool. Esp if it’s linked to not feeling like she fits in bc she’s a hanyou? Awesome. Except once she travels back in time to the feudal era it’s all “Oh killing is bad you shouldn’t kill people” and “even though they attacked me I can’t possibly hurt them” and “you need to empathize and talk things out” and “friendship is magic” and shit. It feels like she had a personality transplant, it literally makes no sense. Her design is totally nonsensical too -- out of everyone at her school, she’s the only one dressed in a bright white suit? Do protags not wear the school uniform? Someone should tell Kagome lmao. She’s a pro at hand to hand, and she can absorb demons’ powers and fling them back at them like a personified Tessaiga, and she has a lightsaber sword, and she’s immune to miasma, and -- like... you get it. It’s too much. It’s way too OP for the type of universe that Inuyasha/Yashahime is set in. She’s hanyou for fuck’s sake; remember all the training Inuyasha had to go through? When he couldn’t lift his sword? When his sword attacked him? Sango, Miroku, Kagome, even Sesshomaru all had trouble with their weapons and had to work to become stronger. But Towa? Nope. Towa is straight out of the Yas Queen/Girl Boss manual, so she gets a free pass on everything.

UGH they are doing the VLD/bad writing thing where things happen (like, BIG THINGS) and none of the characters actually react to them. Or stuff happens and there are no consequences. No one ever talks about anything. It’s wild.

Everyone has amnesia!! :D People either don’t know or don’t remember anything or anyone. People who absolutely should know things all of a sudden magically don’t know them. Like, Kohaku -- traveled with an undead priestess, spent years in the company of demons, traveled with Sesshomaru... and yet had NO CLUE that Setsuna is Sesshomaru’s daughter or that she is hanyou, despite her living and working with his team of demon slayers all this time. Like... how, man. How. And Kaede! Don’t get me started. Since when does she perpetuate random demon-boogeyman type stories as facts? Demon children will kill each other in the nest so that only the strongest one will survive, therefore Setsuna must have killed Towa when they were infants. O_O What are they, sharks? Has she been hanging out with Kisame? Wtf?? And she’s speaking about Sess’s kids as though she doesn’t know him or anything about him, when she has had Rin under her roof all these years. It just makes. no. sense.

Things that happened in the original series are happening again now! Because that’s the best we’ve got, recycled plot elements wooo! No, but really, characters that died or things that were resolved in Inuyasha keep coming back. Why? What was the purpose of bringing back Kinka and Ginka? To have a foil for Towa and Setsuna as twins? Someone please tell Sunrise they can just create new characters. Like, it’s one thing to have call backs to the original or cameos, references, whatever. But like... this is entire (dead) characters and interactions.

No one knows how long it’s been since the original series ended. Fans initially heard 20 years from promo material, then “over 15″ and “10 years since” in-series regarding two different events, and now in a future episode summary we’ve gotten 18 years since Hosenki II gave Inuyasha the black pearl. But like, which black pearl? Because the one in Inuyasha’s eye doesn’t exist anymore, but Hosenki II had told Inuyasha that it would take 100 years for him to produce one. So, are we retconning that or where the fuck did it come from? Also, this doesn’t help one bit, it just confuses things even more. Back to the point, though, we have no coherent timeline or real frame of reference whatsoever, and I’m betting it’s in large part to keep the mystery of who is Sesshomaru’s wife going, as it keeps Rin’s age very vague. Everything is vague and mysterious in Yashahime, to the point where no one knows what’s going on, in fandom or in-story even. It’s kinda like how too much plot twist/shock reveal ruins a story, too much mystery does the same. It’s insane that both shippers and antis of that ship can lay equal claim that the “18 years since” announcement works in their favor.

tl;dr: Idk man, Yashahime is a clusterfuck of a series. Even if the mother of Sess’s twins is either of the characters I ship him with, I will still not like the series. There’s no saving this writing. Every episode feels like this:

#baked-hylian #i've been wanting to rant for a while about this series thanks for enabling me! :D #i'm actually not upset about this sequel which is amazing; i thought for sure it would impact my love for the OG but nope!#it is so wild and out there that my brain literally cannot comprehend it as part of the same material #i'm just watching it out of the kind of morbid curiosity you'd watch a horrifying experiment with #and watching the fandom drama too ofc #popcorn in hand #so it's a win-win all around ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#talk: yh

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