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split-spectrum · 1 year ago

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 8

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: explicit content, slow burn, smut, dubcon, angst

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

When the holomessage flickers off, the spell over you is broken. You finish taking off your coat and immediately start keying in codes on the holoreceiver. After minutes of waiting, the image of Mace Windu appears before you.

"Master Windu," you greet. "I'm glad to see you are well."

He nods respectfully. "And you, Commander. I trust you've received the Council's message?"

"I have. I thought perhaps we could discuss it further."

"Of course. What further discussion is needed?"

"To be honest, Master, I feel there are many other Jedi who would be able to complete this mission with more success than me."

You shift your gaze uneasily, but bring it back to meet his eyes quickly. "Is my presence on this mission... absolutely necessary?"

His tone remains even, although there's a little more authority in his voice. "We don't have 'many other Jedi' available at the moment. We are spread more thinly every day the war goes on. If we did not require your presence, we would not have asked for it."

You nod. "I understand."

You hesitate, not wanting to push the issue further, but not wanting to end the conversation until you've tried all options. "But at the present time, I'm... not entirely sure I'm ready to return to full duty."

He's silent for a moment, eyebrow slightly raised. "Might I remind you, Commander, that you are currently on full duty? Your assignment was changed, but your efforts are of no less value on Ilum."

You silently curse the lack of tact in your wording. Being away from Coruscant for so long as made you forget how easily your words can be twisted. You bow your head in acknowledgement.

"Yes, of course."

He regards you for a moment before speaking again. "If you are refusing the orders, you may say so. You will be relieved of duty."

It isn't a threat. Like everything Master Windu says, it's a clear statement of truth without hidden meaning. He is simply reminding you of the options available. You can report for duty, or you can admit that despite your year of light service to focus inward and reconnect with the force, you still aren't ready to face combat again, and you can leave the Jedi Order.

"That is not my intent," you assure him. "I will accept the orders and report. I simply wanted to ensure that... I had a full understanding of the circumstances."

His face remains neutral. "Then, unless there's anything else, Commander, good luck on your mission. May the force be with you."

You nod respectfully. "And with you, Master."

The hologram flickers out, and you stare at the empty space. Perhaps if you'd had a few more months to find balance... even a few weeks to prepare for this mission...

But no. You shake the thoughts from your head. It would have made no difference. This is the most dedicated you have ever been in your training, and you are the strongest you've ever felt in the force. Yet, for all the time you'd spent in meditation, you're still unbalanced, and you know that no amount of time would have been enough to bring you back to center.

When you'd first arrived for your new assignment, you'd spent a great deal of your time expressly trying not to reach out in the force. It went against everything you'd been taught by all of your masters, but in your experience, there had been many times you'd needed to trust in the force, and a few times you'd needed to trust in yourself. You knew your thoughts were in turmoil and your emotions were not in your control. To connect with the force in such a state, you knew, would be a mistake.

So you focused on your daily tasks, using the dull repetition of cycling screens as a form of meditation, and the arduous perimeter checks around the temple as a method of clearing your mind. Although your days were long and tiresome, you were grateful for the blank feeling it afforded you. It was better than the alternative, which was what you exerperienced each night before sleep. Sometimes, all too often, during sleep.

The screams you'd heard, each guard pleading for their life before a vicious silence permeated the air, sometimes preceeded with the grinding of bones or the thick pop of dislocating joints...

The hallway filled with bodies in poses crawling away from their attacker, some with faces darkened by lack of blood flow, some missing multiple appendages - not just the hands that had held their weapons, but their arms, and their legs...

He would have done it on the way back... He would have disarmed them already. They weren't a threat by the time he'd retrieved your sabers. He would have killed them on his way down the hallway, back to you, as they lay there...

The most disturbing part of all of it, though, was the feeling, deep within you, of pure contentment. It had stroked a part of your mind that you hadn't known existed. It was so pleasing to you, knowing that he was out of control. It soothed you. He was safe.

In every battle you'd fought by his side, you'd tried to let go of your fear of death. In many of your missions, you'd left people alive who easily could have killed you in return. This was part of the path you chose to walk - to fight with the knowledge that taking an enemy's life wasn't the goal. You fought to protect others, not yourselves. If you could manage to leave an enemy alive, but disarmed, it was always attempted.

But sometimes, enemies didn't stay disarmed once defeated. Sometimes it managed to create a bigger threat. These were the choices you lived with, in order to protect the sanctity of all life. But for one shining moment, you had felt the weight of those choices lift from your shoulders.

When you had watched Obi Wan remove the shackles of compassion, mercy, and restraint, you'd felt a relief like nothing you'd ever experienced before. It was intoxicating, to a level that terrified you.

Because of this, you had spent many months on Ilum without allowing yourself to even attempt a connection with the force. The feeling was still too near, the power too overwhelming. But as time passed and you felt more like yourself each day, you eventually began short meditations with all of your mental barriers firmly in place. Over the weeks which turned into months, you managed to restore your connection, grow in it, and surpass your previous experiences.

But even now, with your strength returned to you, as you contemplate the mission ahead, you can feel the imbalance within yourself. Your desire to do good in the universe will always be tinged with the knowledge of what it felt like to let go of your obligations and use your power to protect what you want to protect.

As you board your ship and make the short journey to the rendezvous point with the Republic cruiser, nervous thoughts of your potential shortcomings are slowly replaced with nervous thoughts of another sort.

It's been over a year, and you haven't spoken.

You went to your frozen outpost with every intention to write after a few weeks, as you always did. Even in the midst of countless assignments, you'd always made time to leave an occasional friendly message to one another. You'd kept ties with all your previous masters - some more closely than others. But Obi Wan was your true Master, and you never went more than a couple of months without at least a simple "Hope all is well" message or a quick chat over the holonet to discuss your latest mission reports.

He'd stopped calling after six months, evidently taking the hint that you hadn't been trying to send. You'd played the few short messages he'd left repeatedly just to hear his voice, hanging on his every word. But you couldn't bear to respond; to pretend as if you were okay. You didn't want to lie to him. It was easier to ignore him.

Now, as you dock with the cruiser and make your way onboard, you have no idea what you can say to him. Perhaps, you think optimistically, you won't need to say much. After all, you're here to do a job. You were ordered to report to him as your commanding officer. You didn't receive your orders together, meaning it's likely a solo mission he'll be sending you on.

You turn down a hallway approaching the main bridge and let out a long-held breath, trying to calm yourself. As you sink into the force to steady your nerves, you sense him. You knew you would, but you aren't prepared for the way you feel when his familiar aura makes gentle contact with the edge of your own. Now he knows you're here, too.

His presence grows stronger as you get closer to the ship's center, and you pass a door marked as the general's personal quarters. Your gait slows just a little as you consider knocking. But you hardly miss a step, reminding yourself you have orders to report to the captain. You convince yourself this is the reason you keep walking, and not because you're too afraid to stop.

As you approach the bridge, the scene around you gets markedly busier. The ship's crew is hard at work monitoring status reports and managing the daily operation of the cruiser, and as you step onto the main bridge, you're careful to keep out of the way. A couple of clones you recognize greet you in passing and you give a friendly nod in return. When you reach the captain, he's engaged in a conversation with another clone with whom you're familiar.

"Captain Shrike," you greet, a genuine smile on your face. You've completed a few missions together, and it puts you slightly more at ease to see him.

The clone captain gives you a warm grin, his stance softening slightly to a more open posture as he turns toward you. "Commander! It's been a while. Looking forward to another easy one?"

You laugh, and he introduces you to the captain, the three of you making polite conversation until the topic of the mission is brought up. The captain, whose last name you've now learned is Pais, tells you they plan to discuss it momentarily.

"We were awaiting your arrival so that the General- ah, there he is now." He looks behind you. "General Kenobi wanted to brief everyone at once."

You turn and follow the captain's line of sight to the person who's just entered the room, and there he is.

His beard is neatly trimmed, his hair perfectly finger-combed back from his bright eyes. He's clad in his familiar white armor, likely having returned from battle recently, but looking none worse for the wear. His gaze is as piercing as ever.

"Commander," he acknowledges you with a muted smile. "Welcome aboard. It's good to see you."

"Thank you, General." You say nothing more, unable to return his warm greeting without it sounding forced.

With his usual amount of grace, he continues on to the task at hand, dropping eye contact with you too quickly for anyone to notice your stiff moment of pause. He circles around to the other side of the holoprojector table at the center of the bridge and keys in coordinates to bring up a softly glowing map. The scale model is instantly recognizable to you as a nearby listening post - one which you've personally spent several rotations mapping.

The lights on the bridge automatically darken to allow for better viewing, and the captain joins you at the table along with the clone captain and several of the higher ranking bridge officers. Obi Wan folds his arms behind his back and begins the brief.

"This is a Separatist listening post, located on the lesser moon of Asar-2. We have reason to believe that a Republic vessel traveling in this area had communications intercepted and possibly decoded, revealing our plan of attack on a Separatist blockade in the Gaulus sector. A plan which is set to go into effect in less than fourty standard hours."

He pauses briefly, glancing around the room. "These battle plans are our best chance of breaching the blockade and successfully bringing humanitarian aid to the people of Aaloth. If we were to call off the attack, we may not have another opportunity. However, if the Separatists are already aware of the offensive fleet's coordinates, they will be flying directly into a trap. It is our mission to prevent this by infiltrating the listening station and accessing their transmission logs. We must confirm whether the Separatists were able to decode whatever information they may have gathered, and relay our findings before the planned attack."

He turns to the clone captain beside him. "Captain Shrike, you and I will be approaching from the west, here."

He taps a spot on the map to zoom in. "Their security forces are concentrated at this entrance, and their numbers are limited. To make it to the turbolift on the first floor and reach the comms center, we need only bypass the main guard unit. We will be disguised as Separatist soldiers."

He lifts his eyes to yours, tapping the map again to zoom out and show a path leading to the main entrance. "Commander, that is where you come in. We will need your skills to convince the guards that we have the appropriate security clearances. I presume if you are within this area, it would be close enough to get the job done?"

You follow his motion as he gestures to a wide expanse of land along the path. You open your mouth hesitantly. "It... would."

He nods. "Very well-"

"If I may," you interrupt before the subject can move on. "...sir," you add hastily.

His posture tightens just slightly at the interjection. "Go ahead, Commander."

You reach out and use your fingers to widen the angle of the holographic model. Then you turn it, inspecting it carefully, first on one side, then the other. "When was the layout of this station last updated?"

"The latest recon available was from sixteen months ago. Why?"

Your head shoots upward from the table. "Sixteen months? I submitted several updated reports on this post just a few weeks ago. These details are completely wrong."

His brow furrows and an air of uncertainty falls over the rest of the briefing attendees.

"What do you mean, 'completely wrong'?"

You give a small shake of your head in disbelief. "They've made considerable increases in security since this. For one thing, there's no 'main guard'. Security forces are spread throughout the many additional levels which aren't shown on this map. And the rest of those levels are filled with soldiers, not automated. Aside from that, they have a failsafe for their security system - rayshielded entrances that lock into place when activated from a remote base of operations which is in orbit. Intruders can't shut down the security from the ground; it's a two-part countermeasure."

Silence falls over the briefing group, and Obi Wan brings his arms out from behind his back, folding them over his chest and bringing a hand up to stroke his chin. After a moment of contemplation, he looks back at you.

"How certain are you of these changes?"

"I've done multiple inspections and received reliable information from inside their supply lines. I sent all the details in my reports."

"Then why did we not receive them?" he asks plainly. The question isn't directed at you; more rhetorical, or open for discussion.

You shake your head again. "I sent them directly to the chancellor's office, as instructed."

His hand drops from his chin. "The chancellor's office?"

You tilt your head just slightly, giving him a careful look at his surprised response. "I received orders several months ago that all reports in this sector were to be submitted through encrypted channels to the office of the chancellor, for more direct communication."

When he continues staring at you, you add, "The orders came from the Council."

His frown deepens. "I remember no such order."

"Regardless of the reason," Captain Pais observes delicately, "It appears we are missing crucial intelligence. How do you suggest we proceed?"

"I have the updated reports in my personal logs. We may be able to come up with something if we reevaluate."

Obi Wan doesn't give another moment's hesitation at your offer. "We have very little time as it is. Please, get them. I'll come with you."

Turning back to the group around the table, he adds, "You are dismissed, for now," and then follows as you leave the room.

Your pace is quick and a little nervous as he falls into step beside you, his footsteps as confident as ever. You glance over at him. "I have to say, I'm a little confused."

"Confused?"

"When I arrived, I wondered why you'd requested me for this mission. Then I saw the location, and I assumed my knowledge of the outpost would be helpful. Now it turns out that you never even received my reports."

You shake your head a bit. "If you'll forgive my asking, why me? Any Jedi would be capable of accessing a station like the basic one you thought this was."

He's quiet for a beat. "It wasn't my request. The Council assigned you here."

You reach the hatch to your ship and open it, turning your face away from him to hide how foolish you feel for asking. "Ah."

"I believe they had good reason. These listening posts are known to destroy all records as soon as any breach is detected. Normal attack or infiltration wouldn't be an adequate plan. Your skills were -are needed to ensure we retrieve the data with as little chance of detection as possible. If we're discovered before we reach it, all will be lost."

"I see," you answer, logging into your personal records and pulling up your reports. "That explains it."

He looks at you for a moment, then continues, "I did mean what I said on the bridge, you know."

Your eyes flicker from the screen over to him and you look at him questioningly.

"I may not have asked you here, but it is good to see you."

The heat in your cheeks intensifies and you turn back to the screen, retrieving the report and sending it to him.

"It's... good to see you, too."

He gives you an amiable look, if not quite a smile, then pulls it up on the datapad in his hand and walks a few paces away.

As he reads through the material, you're left without much to do. You're already intimately familiar with the information, but you pass your eyes over the screen in front of you to skim the material anyway, and when you finish, your eyes slowly drift back to him.

He's concentrating deeply on the datapad, eyes focused and darting quickly over words and diagrams. Without your permission, your gaze falls down the profile of his face, fixating on the rigidness of his jaw, the whispers of grey at his temple now spreading into more noticeable patches, the once warm tan at his neck, now turned to a deep and lasting bronze. You let yourself stare for just a moment longer, trailing over his shoulders and falling down to where the armor defines the cut at his waist. The way he's holding himself is the same as always, and yet something is different.

When he'd kept his hair long, when you'd been his Padawan, he'd had such strength and tenacity, his chest full and upright, his shoulders broad and stiff, his back creating a hard, straight line. All of those things are the same now, but there's something else. The war seems to have softened and hardened him all at once. His posture is more self-assured than ever, and yet it lacks the bravado of his youth. It's melted into true confidence, a commanding air of expertise about him, exuded with every movement.

It had been true the last time you'd seen him, but a year later, it's more evident than ever before - he had been a warrior. Now, he's a general.

You're about to pull your gaze back to the screen when he slowly takes a few steps while reading and settles himself into a chair. Your ship is a small transport vessel, so there's not much space, and the seat is small. It's surrounded by a ledge, and he leans back in the chair to hold the datapad in front of himself with one hand, letting his other arm stretch over the ledge behind him.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him spreading out, and though you know there's nothing inherently sexual about it - he's probably more comfortable sitting this way in full armor - you can't stop staring. You fixate on the way he's holding the datapad in his lap. You imagine the way he held your head in his hands...

He's looking at you. Your eyes snap up. You flick your gaze back down to the datapad and then meet his eyes again. "Do you have any questions so far?" Your voice comes out higher than usual, and you try to play it off as casual lightness.

He blinks, seeming deep in thought. "No. It's quite comprehensive, thank you. I just wondered if there might be something here."

He stands and brings the datapad over to you, zooming in on a small access panel on the eastern side of the station.

"It's underwater so it isn't monitored by these security checks you've indicated. The only problem is that it is covered by the electromagnetic barrier that surrounds the entire outpost. We could access it, but not using technology. Not even rebreathers."

You try to ignore the way your chest flutters when he leans into you so you can both see the datapad clearly, and you think for a moment, despite the fact that he smells so good.

"I might have a solution. Storne. He's amphibious."

"Your friend from Bespin?" he clarifies, and you nod in return.

"If we make the payment worth his while, I'm sure he could be here within a matter of hours."

He regards you carefully, then looks back at the image of the outpost as if reconsidering all the options. After a long pause, he lowers the pad. "Very well; contact him. It may be our best chance."

You nod again, turning back to the main screen to send him a message. When you finish, Obi Wan is still dragging his fingers down either side of his beard, deep in thought.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea?" you offer. You don't have much on board besides tea and a few ration packs, while the main ship will have plenty more options for food and drink, but you still feel you should say something to break the silence.

He glances over at you as if he'd forgotten he was in the room. "Tea... yes, thank you."

You switch on the kettle while he seats himself again, and while the water quickly comes to a boil, you speak over your shoulder.

"I do have one other suggestion."

"I'm open to anything."

"I should be the one going inside the station, not Shrike. It'll be more effective for me to actively participate than to stay outside and work through the force. If I can use my eyes and ears to evaluate as we go, it will be easier to prevent any mistakes."

You turn to look at him as you add the tea leaves to the boiling kettle. His expression is hesitant.

"I would consider that risk to be greater than the reward."

"In what way?" you ask, frowning.

"There is a high likelihood that this will end in a fight for escape. With the level of security and the numbers of the enemy, our only goal is to make it inside without issue. Getting out is another matter. You would be of better use outside the line of fire."

Your hands still on the handle of the kettle. You place it back down on the counter without pouring. "I've always been useful enough in combat before."

"And you are certain that you still are?"

Your breath halts. His words sting. But you reach out calmly and pour the tea anyway, not wanting to show any sign of emotional response.

"I may have taken some time away, but I'm still capable of handling myself."

You turn and bring both of your cups with you, handing one over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then places the cup on a shelf beside him as he continues looking at you.

"Commander, you may feel that you are prepared, but I... have doubts."

He says it slowly and softly, but the message is no less painful. You meet his eyes.

"I don't believe that you're more qualified to evaluate my own abilities than I am." Your face flushes hot when the words leave you, and you quickly add, "...sir."

He doesn't rise to your bait. He just looks at you with the same compassion he's always shown you. "It is my duty to evaluate the abilities of all those under my command, as well as my own."

The silence stretches between you, your embarrassment at arguing with your general only compounded by his grace in response. He looks to the side, as if gathering his words, and then looks back at you again.

"You are unbalanced."

He says it simply, not accusing or disappointed. You can't meet his eyes.

"I can still perform my duties," you say, seeing no point in trying to deny it.

"Perhaps I can help."

You shake your head. "There's nothing you can do for me."

"I have my doubts," he retorts, his unfailing confidence in his own abilities as frustrating as it is consoling.

"I am lost," you admit. "But I know I can only find the path I need on my own."

He raises his brows gently. "How can you be so sure?"

You let out a deep sigh, then take a sip of your tea while he watches you. Finally, you take a seat across from him, and you answer.

"Master," you start, allowing yourself to slip back into familiar terms and knowing he'll allow you to do so. "When you connect with the force, what do you feel?"

He pauses to consider before giving his response. "I feel warmth and comfort, as if I am grounded in something permanent and unchanging. I feel surrounded and filled with a presence of peace and certainty."

You nod slowly. "I also feel a sense of warmth and comfort. But when I reach out to the force, it doesn't feel unchanging or steady to me. It's like immersing myself in a flood. I'm filled with the purpose of the universe and I feel the current of every living being around me."

He nods along with you, encouraging you to go on.

"...but there's nothing to hold onto. When I was younger, it was hard for me to surrender to the force because it felt so much like losing myself. You showed me how to find myself within the force, and everything changed. It was wonderful."

You take another breath before continuing. "Until... until what happened on Oba Diah showed me the consequences of losing myself entirely."

He's quiet for a long time. "And... you feel that you can no longer trust in the force because of this?"

You bite your lip. "I've never felt I could trust in the force enough to give myself over completely to its will. Something has always held me back. Maybe I've always been unbalanced, to some degree."

He sighs softly. "I have told you for many years, young one, the force is balance. You must not hold back from it. You will find your balance if you release yourself to its will."

You swallow. Some part of you knows he'll never be able to understand that it's because he is balanced that he believes the force is in perfect balance as well. He can find himself in it so easily.

"I understand, Master. And I will try. But, I must trust in myself as well. In my own judgement."

He looks at you uncertainly. Then he stands. "How long before Storne will arrive?"

You glance over at the comms screen, standing up to go over and check the pending response. After you read it, you report, "Eleven hours."

"Plenty of time for meditation. Would you like to join me?"

You sigh internally, appreciating the gesture but wishing you could explain to him the certainty you feel that it will make no difference.

"Of course."

You close the main hatch of the ship for privacy, then sit next to him on the floor, folding your legs to mirror his posture. His eyes are already closed, and you close yours as well.

"Quiet your thoughts. Let them pass. Listen only to the force."

His words are familiar. It's a mantra he's used with you for countless sessions. You sink into the sound of his voice and try to obey.

Minutes pass as you settle into your own mind, lowering your barriers and reaching out into the ether. The force answers your beckon, enveloping you as always - predictably, comfortingly. As more time passes, you let the soft hum of your own aura open itself to the force's stronger current, releasing yourself to its embrace. You repeat Obi Wan's words in your mind, listening only to the force.

"You have grown strong, my Padawan," his voice echoes richly in your mind, padded with the energy of the force when he speaks.

Your face remains neutral as you answer him with your eyes still closed, although his choice to use your old title makes your heartbeat quicken. "I've had plenty of time for meditation and practice."

You feel his aura at the edge of your own, starting to nudge for your acceptance. You let him in gratefully, welcoming his steadying presence. It's been so many years since you've felt it. It nearly overwhelms you.

You take in a deep breath, leveling out your breathing, reminding yourself to keep your focus on the force.

"And yet your faith is lessened. You have said you trust in your own abilities, as I trust in my own. Use that trust. Reach into the force, and let go."

Your pulse picks up even more. His presence is surrounding you, asking to give yourself over. You remain steadfast within yourself. "I... know what will happen."

"You are afraid."

"Yes."

His voice somehow soothes you and fills you with apprehension at the same time. "Fear is not real. Only the force is real."

"My fear is based in reality. How can I ignore it?" Your eyes are still closed but your brows are pushing together, almost in a frown.

"We all experience fears. But they are not a part of you. You can separate yourself from those thoughts."

You're quiet again for a long stretch of time. It could be minutes, or it could be hours. Your only concentration is on doing as he's instructed. But no matter how you reach into the force to take your fears from you, they stay. He speaks again softly when he feels you struggling.

"You're holding on."

"I'm not trying to," you say back, a little too quickly.

"Yes, you are."

He says it with perfect clarity. He's not disparaging or chiding you. He's simply pointing out the truth. But it gets to you. It evokes a reaction, finally, because you know that it's true.

You feel your presence in the force become uneven, wavering and malformed. "You don't understand. I know you're trying to help, but you can't understand."

"Then help me to understand," he responds, his tone still firm and neutral, as if he hasn't noticed your change in demeanor.

You fight for a moment longer, and then you give in. "I am... not the Jedi I was before. Or maybe I never was the Jedi I should be. I feel... things I shouldn't feel. And I can't set them aside. Not like you."

You feel him pulling away from you, almost imperceptibly. "It is not that I set my feelings aside. I surrender them to the will of the force. The burden can only be lifted when you stop trying to carry it."

You squeeze your eyes more tightly shut. "I am trying, Master, but you don't know the burden I carry."

This time, you really feel it when he pulls away. "That is not true."

"I..." you flounder, surprised at his reaction. "I didn't mean that you don't have your own burdens. But yours are not like mine."

He takes in a long, slow breath and releases it. "I know what you carry."

His aura dims a little, almost flickering like a candle.

"I live with the knowledge each day that I took unnecessary lives. Undefended lives. I remember the fear in their eyes as I..." he breaks off, swallowing. "I remember all of it."

You continue to sit in silence, each of you reflecting. When his presence beside you becomes steady again, he goes on.

"And the other mistakes I made... The thoughts and actions of that night will be with me for the rest of my life."

Your stomach tightens, the blood in your face heating. "I... can't forget, either."

"We don't need to. We only need to rely on the strength of the force."

"And..." your throat goes dry. "What if these thoughts have... continued?"

Your connection slips apart for a moment, and he doesn't answer. His presence his hazy, hard to read. You regret your words immensely, until he speaks again.

"I've already told you, you don't carry your burden alone."

You're about to ask what he means when his aura surrounds you again. This time, though, it's like nothing you've ever felt from him. It is heavy, sweet and carnal. The thoughts within him are so clear, the images so bright. He's only allowing you to see a small part of himself, but that part is howling.

You feel yourself immediately getting wet, watching the memory of him brushing a thumb over your nipple while he kisses your neck, thrusting into you from behind. His moan fills your ears, although there's no sound in the room. You feel the heat of his mouth on your neck, a phantom touch that sends shivers over your entire body. You're drawn in, almost reaching for more of the feeling, but it's buried within an endless stream of filthy vision after filthy vision, and you can only see the very top of the collection.

It's like looking into one of your own dreams.

As quickly as he opened it, he severs the connection and you blink your eyes open, finding yourself staring into his. You're almost panting from the whiplash. He clears his throat, appearing completely unaffected.

"I have struggled. I will continue to struggle. But I will continue to seek guidance in the force. As should you. It is not an easy path, as you have said. But it is not one that you walk alone."

Your mind is spinning. Your heart is racing. Your eyes are fixated on his mouth as he speaks, and for all the wrong reasons.

Then he releases another long breath and settles back, closing his eyes to return to his meditation.

"So, shall we begin again?"

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procrastiel · 5 months ago

Note

Having listened to the podcast, waiting for the courts to clear the issue is pointless. The police chose not to investigate because the evidence Scarlett provided reflected a consensual relationship with no indication of abuse. The podcast itself makes it abundantly clear that whether or not you think Neil did anything immoral, the legal case against him is non-existent. This is based on statements by both the police and a defence lawyer they interviewed. The evidence we have now IS the evidence as far as the legal system is concerned. Unless substantial new evidence emerges, the police aren't going to pursue this. I'm pretty sure that the reason the podcast is so aggressively asserting that BDSM is unlawful is that this is the only situation under which Neil could possibly be prosecuted.

Great point anon and I’m glad you put it that way. I can understand that people want to stand with the victim even if the court or the law decided there isn’t enough evidence, but that’s why I encourage people to listen to the podcast because that is where the actual messages and voice messages from the victim are. Listen to the victim herself and then make up your mind.

#neil gaiman #believe the victims #leo’s Q&A

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bonebabbles · 10 months ago

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Chapter 12: the thunderclannining

GOD I love when people call Clear Sky out. It only ever lasts like 5 minutes but it is as euphoric as the brief, blissful taste of a chocolate-covered raspberry gracing your tastebuds.

"How could you believe that I'm obsessed with being right after all the times I chose not to murder you :( ????"

"I let you eat food in land that you used to just be able to walk into, even though you're disabled! I thought you were eternally grateful :(((( IM LOSING CONTROL!!"

"YOU'RE ABANDONING US BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU DESERVE RESPECT????????"

He feels like the world's worst boss and crappiest father rolled into one monstrous fusion.

There's just one problem with all this catharsis; Thunder is still whining about Star Flower, insisting that she's going to betray Clear Sky. It's frustrating because he is wrong.

Star Flower is a lot closer to another victim of Clear Sky than a manipulator, but the narrative will not ultimately conclude this.

But at NO point does it show her actually manipulating anyone. Not even Thunder. NO she did not "manipulate" and betray him. I am once again reminding everyone that Thunder offered all that information apropos of nothing, against all warnings.

Yet, "betraying" the Clan cats by warning her father of an ambush is so unforgivable that several cats agree she should be chased out of the forest.

All this emphasis on how hurt Thunder is shows that his judgement is clouded by jealousy.

All this Star Flower whinging takes away from Clear Sky being abusive. THAT should be the major issue here. This is an entire book of Clear Sky returning to the same kind of emotional abuse he was displaying back in Thunder Rising, only without murder, and what this LONG AWAITED confrontation ends up spiraling back to is the Father/Son Love Triangle

You can't even get catharsis without some incredibly weird, unpleasant bullshit dripping into it.

Im glad that Thunder has finally come to the point where he's rejecting the dumbass statement he made when they killed One Eye together, where he was gushing about, "We're not like One Eye and never have been <3" Yes. Clear Sky IS like One Eye-- a weaker version of him, someone who got out-dictator'd and needed to call in the OTHER cats to ambush him and win his group back.

but again this is meant to be his jealousy speaking. Not straight facts. He JUST had a confrontation with Star Flower about her daddy issues and he's saying that Clear Sky fits them.

CRY ABOUT IT!!!! GET BOOHOO'D LOSER! CRY ME A RIVER AND DROWN IN IT

"I always end up alone waaaaaah!!!" fucking when in your life have you ended up alone? Someone was ALWAYS behind you to hand you a binkie and a safety blanket. When you didn't have a massive group of violent rogues to back you up, the moor cats always took your sorry ass in and clapped at you for doing the bare fucking minimum. People always nonsensically stood by you because the plot demands it, after you get them and dozens of their friends injured and killed

Here comes the binkie and the safety blanket, btw

In a good series this would have been her intentionally manipulating him, bringing out his worst traits again, encouraging him to be the worst version of himself as he once again ignores all good advice.

But Star Flower never did anything wrong. She never DOES anything at all. She's JUST Clear Sky's controversial wife that Thunder has to "get over himself" about, an item to cause conflict, a mate extra supportive of him because he "deserves" to have someone by his side unlike all the other times where people were by his side.

The pack of 3 dogs that mauled you to death wasn't enough. I wish they had guns

#WORTHY OF HIM.............#WORTHY OF THE FILTH UNDER MY FOOT #who the fuck thought this was a good romance im throwing up #Star Flower GET OUT OF THERE!!!!#OH MY GODDD #dotc hate #bones reads dotc #clear sky

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thenightfolknetwork · 10 months ago

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Due to a combination of bad genes and bad luck, I suffer from various physical and mental difficulties and pains. Technically I count as disabled, but the term has never felt right for me; it doesn't FEEL like the problem is in my body and brain, even though I know it is, it feels more like the world rearranges itself to be just a bit harder for me than for other people. This isn't something I've talked about much, it's always seemed like it would be horribly rude, plus I have more important issues to work on with my therapist than "how much a particular word does or does not match how I parse my subjective experience".

Then I came across an expression, and for the first time, something felt like it fit. "Cursed by a wizard". It's not that I lose energy quickly, it's that I've been cursed with fatigue; to give one example. I know it's not literally true. Even aside from my diagnoses and symptoms and treatments, a year or so back I got screened as part of a workplace health and safety initiative, and no curses. Still, it's not like the language we use is literally true all of the time; expressions exist for a reason.

You know how it is, whenever you find something cool and new, you want to share it with everyone. Nobody else cared as much as I did, of course, but general reactions were polite, "I'm glad you've found something that works for you". Except for one person, who immediately got a Look on her face -- the kind you get when a foreigner says a word they don't know is a slur over here, or when someone bad-mouths a person they don't realize is nearby -- and changed the subject.

I'm not going to change how I think about myself. "Cursed by a wizard" is a useful mental framework. However, my question is whether it should stay solely within my own mind. I'm worried now that it might be insensitive to people who've actually been cursed, or to wizards.

Thank you for getting in touch, reader. I have one small point to make regarding the start of your letter, particularly regarding the word “disabled”.

To be clear, you are absolutely entitled to your own personal relationship with the term, and I don't mean to suggest that you need to adopt it if you don't feel it reflects your experience. However, I don't agree that “the problem” is in your body and brain. It is, as you say, in the way the world is arranged to make life that much more difficult for you.

A framing I have seen from some disability activists is to speak of themselves as disabled by society, rather than by their condition. They don't consider disability to be a trait in and of itself, but a condition put upon them by an ableist society.

I don't know if this framing is a helpful one for you personally, and as I said, I don't wish to tell you how you “ought” to describe yourself. But I wanted to mention it as a possible alternative way of thinking, in case it proves useful to you.

But that, I know, was not the point of your letter. Unfortunately, reader, I don't have a clear cut answer for you. People who have been cursed are not a uniform group – neither their experiences, nor the way they speak about those experiences, are identical.

The fact is, yes, some people will be offended by your use of “the wizard's curse” to describe your experiences. Others will find it an expressive, even entertaining way of viewing your situation.

You also run the risk that some people will simply not understand the metaphorical nature of your statement, so please be prepared for those well-meaning folk who hear this and immediately start recommending salt baths and smoke cleanses.

I can reassure you that this is not a term that carries any particular historical reason to avoid its usage – it isn't comparable to such out-dated idioms as referring to public outcry as a “witch hunt” or the use of the phrase “Frankenstein's monster” when speaking of a messy, difficult situation, and implicitly associating reanimation with negativity and failure.

Instead, it is rather like the English language use of the word “slimy” to mean “dishonest” or “morally corrupt”. Certainly some people see the usage as offensive, but it isn't actually rooted in any specific anti-liminal sentiment and those voices are the minority.

In fact, some people argue that it is more offensive to assume “slimy” must somehow be associated with people of viscosity. But I think we are getting rather into the weeds of what is, to be honest, a largely online debate with very little real-world application.

In short, reader, it is up to you how you proceed. You need to decide for yourself whether you're comfortable with the ambiguity of your language and with the diverse ways you may be interpreted.

There are rarely any clear cut answers on the topic of language, and it may be that your feelings on the matter change over time. But the fact remains that only you can decide how best to describe yourself, and only you have the power to make this decision.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

#the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies #answered

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ciaossu-imagines · 7 months ago

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I'm new here but I've read almost all your mm prompts and head canons and i reallllly loved the way you described the characters. That's why i want to ask you a rather wierd question....

I was wondering how you imagine saeyoung's sex life...like what is sex to him? How important s it to him in a relationship? Will he be fine with an asexual partner?

Almost everyone that writes about him describe him as a person who has a lot of fun with sex but i think he as someone who worked in the dark side of the world for a long time might have seen and understood things that made him repulsive towards sex and the whole sex industry from porn to even nightclubs

I would love to know your opinion on this

Hello there, my lovely anon! I’m so glad you found my blog and thank you so much for reading and enjoying what I write 😊 That’s really sweet of you to say and makes me really happy. Now, I’m answering this less with actual headcanons but just kind of a blanket statement that I’ve made a couple of times and then I’ll share some of my views! I apologize in advance if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted though, and as a note, this definitely isn’t a weird question at all!!

So, plain out and out blanket statement that I will always hammer home – I might write Saeyoung one way. A lot of the writer’s might write him a certain way too, a lot more sexual than you see him being. But that doesn’t mean that you’re wrong in how you view him in any way or that we’re wrong in viewing him as we do. That’s the wonderful thing about the characters, that we can all see and write them however we want, unless the creators tell us specifically not too.

So, if you see Saeyoung as sex-repulsed, that’s a valid interpretation and you should feel free to continue thinking and writing that, even if others write otherwise!

Another blanket statement that I cannot make clear enough – If you are asexual and are wondering if your favourite character would like you and be okay with it, YES. YES, A MILLION YESES. Your favourite character is going to love you and want to be with you no matter what you look like, no matter your sexual orientation or lack thereof, your gender identity or lack thereof, no matter if you have mental health struggles, no matter what really. I will never, ever, EVER tell anyone their favourite character wouldn’t like them; the only time I ever take my personal headcanons about sexual orientations or how important sex or any other big issues regarding the characters is when I do matchups, when it’s part of my job to do so, so to speak.

So yeah, Saeyoung will be okay with an asexual partner because my writing is meant to make people feel happy, not to make them feel excluded or like their favourite character wouldn’t be cool with who they are.

Also going along with that, I do think asexuality or being sex repulsed is not necessarily caused by trauma, in the majority of cases actually. And just as a reminder, from someone who hasn’t been a virgin since I was seven, trauma related to sex can actually lead to just the opposite, hyper-sexuality where a person starts to heavily tie their self-worth into sex.

Now, we’ll get into my opinion around Saeyoung and his views on sex. I don’t actually think he has a lot of trauma tied around sex itself, but I do think his religious views really do impact his views on sex. I think that he does believe in waiting for marriage to have sex, whenever at all possible, or at least a firm commitment towards marriage, so he does have some surprisingly traditional views on sex.

To him, in my opinion, sex is a way to not only connect with his lover and feel closer to them, but he gets a lot of his physical affection through sex, and it helps how touch-starved and affection-starved he really is as a person. It’s not quite healthy, I’m not going to lie, but I do think that he does rely on sex for just that feeling of connection and love from someone else in a physical sense.

On top of that, in bonus stories from the same, we do see Saeyoung get very flirty, touchy, and seductive in a very playful way, which really is where a lot of the fandom, including me, does get the impression that sexually speaking, once his sex life with his partner does begin, he is someone who brings a lot of fun to sex, who isn’t afraid to instigate, and who does find the fun in the experience.

That being said, I do want to point out that I actually heavily agree with you in that Saeyoung has a pretty low view of nightclubs, they’re not something he would enjoy in any sort of way, but I think that’s less to do with anything sexual. I do think his mother was a drunk, that Saeyoung has very poor attitudes towards alcohol. The pure amount of people getting absolutely piss-ass drunk at a nightclub? It’s not going to be something he can deal with, and the situation would make him exceptionally anxious and unable to deal well.

#replies #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme headcanons #headcanons #saeyoung choi #707 #luciel choi

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04tenno · 1 year ago

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sorry to bother but I saw ya talk about kirin lore and Mine etc? Specifically about kirin and the full moon? Do you have any stuff I could look at about kirin myth that I could look at? (its cool if its a Japanese source I'll force myself to learn to read it) Or just any thoughts on kirin and Mine in general I've been going ham on stupid kirin-Mine AU lately and its relevant fhdkfd

I'm glad you asked! Unfortunately I'm not positive I saved any of my sources... anywhere, but the good news is I do remember most of my findings in detail and have been itching to post about them. So! I'm taking this opportunity to analyze Mine's tattoo top-to-bottom.

And I'm also approaching this as a sort of redemption arc, because a lot of interpretations of Mine's tattoo out there are based on what I wrote on the wiki. It's not that they're incorrect per se, but there is so much more to it than what the wiki currently goes into, and I'd like to share that with you all today.

I'll start off with some official statements, and because it comes up later, establish the original version of the tattoo Horitomo designed is actually this version with green fur (pictured below):

Like the word kirin-ji, this is a design that evokes the image of a genius. To be honest, the majority of depictions give kirins the face of a dragon, but with a composition like this where it's soaring upwards, you risk ending up with a tattoo that looks too much like Kiryu's. So I looked into some older material, and while it's not too common, I went with a type of kirin that more closely resembles a deer. — Horitomo

It wants to rise above, but chooses to put itself second and use its talent and intellect to support the "king"—the kirin suits Mine, doesn't it? So, with that general concept in mind, we went through several designs done in pencil, went back and forth on various aspects, until we settled on the direction we wanted to take. And after that, the detailed version of the design was produced. — Masayoshi Yokoyama

With Yokoyama's comment, it's clear what the core meaning of his tattoo was meant to be from the beginning. Because a Like a Dragon tattoo represents more than just a summation of who the character is as the audience knows them or their role in the narrative, but who they were before joining the yakuza, why they joined the yakuza, what the motivation was behind their choice of subject, how elements of the tattoo reflect on characters who share the same elements (and vice versa), and how the meaning the tattoo evolves over time in relation to the character's fate.

So my main... misgiving, let's say... with popular interpretations of Mine's tattoo is that they focus solely on Daigo without examining how it relates to anything else. Again, partly my fault, I'll cop to that, but this is an issue with a lot of analysis of Mine as a character... and it's a little frustrating, isn't it? It is for me. But enough complaining, it's showtime:

Some notes design-wise: the decision to portray Mine's kirin as deer-like rather than dragon-like specifically to distance him from Kiryu says a lot about their characters to me. Because Mine is, in a lot of ways, "the complete opposite, or antithesis, of Kiryu." (Yokoyama) But the kirin is ultimately in the "dragon" family of mythological creatures; as such, Mine, no matter how much he tries to set himself apart from Kiryu, will always parallel Kiryu. This is exactly what I was talking about with regard to how tattoos come to change in meaning over time; it's not insanely prophetic, it's something that makes complete sense in-universe, makes sense for Mine to get at the time he got it, but it also ends up representing his relationship with Kiryu so well. The fact the kirin is in the "dragon" family of mythological creatures, in combination with the original green coloring, is also notable. Because the dragon depicted in Daigo's tattoo is the same shade of green.

There are multiple "species" of kirin, denoted by the color of their fur, which corresponds to one of the five phases (五行, gogyō), originating from the concept of wuxing in Chinese philosophy. The word "kirin," strictly speaking, refers to kirin with yellow fur and corresponds to Earth, which is associated with stability, hard work, ambition, and stubbornness. Kirin with green fur are known as shoko (聳孤, shōko) and correspond to Wood, which is associated with luxuriant growth, vitality, strength, and co-operation. Speaking of the five phases, that also ties into the concept of the Four Gods, a motif explored with the protagonists of Yakuza 4: Kiryu is the Azure Dragon, Akiyama is the Vermillion Bird, Saejima is the Black Turtle, and Tanimura is the White Tiger, representing Wood, Fire, Water, and Metal respectively. The "Fifth God," representing Earth, is widely considered to be a kirin. This doesn't really relate to anything though, just food for thought for the Protagonist Mine enjoyers (me <3)

A great deal of the meaning behind Mine's tattoo is etymological in nature. The word "qilin" itself represents a duality: "qi" refers to a female kirin, "lin" refers to a male kirin, and "qilin" refers to the species as whole. The kirin is said to embody yin and yang. And I think this aspect works perfectly with who Mine is as a character often torn between two extremes. He, like the kirin, has the capacity for both benevolence and ferocity, and like the kirin, only becomes violent in retaliation to violence or out of a sense of protectiveness. Also, in a very literal sense, Mine has both Yin cards and Yang cards in Ryu Ga Gotoku Online, which very few characters do due to their contradictory nature. As Horitomo mentions, the design has basis in the word "kirin-ji" (麒麟児, child prodigy, lit. "kirin child"). A lot of people already know this (anyone who's read this post certainly does, at any rate), but fewer are familiar with the origin of the term. In Ancient China, there was a belief that the appearance of a kirin heralds the birth (and death) of a gifted son with a promising future, beliefs held around Confucius being a famous example. Of course, this relates to Daigo in terms of the association with leaders, but it also relates to Mine himself, who views his younger self as a sort of diamond-in-the-rough, a "gem shining brilliantly by the wayside." This reinforces that the tattoo is not just a meta representation of him, but directly relates to how he views himself. Additionally, the kanji that comprise "shoko" read as "soar" (聳, shō; as in, to rise above something) and "orphan" (孤, ko) respectively.

On that note, kirin are capable of flight, which can obviously be connected to his ambition ("rising above" his origins), his theme, and his method of suicide. They hover off of the ground so as to not trample blades of grass, and are often depicted as walking on clouds (which are, of course, depicted in Mine's tattoo). Some kirin even have wings!

Circling back to the note about violence to talk about the kirin's ability in battle: kirin are ferocious combatants and known to have a very strong hind kick; Mine mainly uses his legs to fight. I believe his "red heat state," where he's at his most aggressive, also represents the fire surrounding his kirin. Kirin may use flames to attack. Kirin are also thought to be the only creatures who can defeat a dragon, and I would argue Mine is the only final boss who even manages to come close to defeating Kiryu. I actually would even argue he did win, since he had more stamina left.

Just reiterating for the sake of being thorough, but as mentioned in the ask, kirin are thought to be at their most volatile and at their most powerful during a full moon. You only see it in one shot, but the finale of Yakuza 3 does in fact take place under a full moon. Mine is, of course, shown to be both of those things in the finale.

There's also some sort of association between kirin and thunder/lightning, at least in popular media. Mine and his tattoo are depicted surrounded by lightning in one of his cards, and the "Hakuho Clan Pin" item that came out at the same time has an ability called Roaring Thunder. I'm not sure why this is the case. Perhaps it's to do with the kirin's association with the sky, since thunder and lightning are celestial phenomena.

With that, I believe I've covered everything I wanted to touch on. Thank you for reading and for the opportunity, and I hope I've "redeemed myself" adequately!

#long post #asks #my analysis #esotericephemera #yakuza 3 #yoshitaka mine #mine yoshitaka #kazuma kiryu #kiryu kazuma #daigo dojima #dojima daigo #THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE i love your kirin mine au btw :)#but yeah. sorry for the wait this goddamn tattoo got hands jesus christ #i love it though. genuinely SUCH a well-thought-out tattoo #also hi. Outline Of Mine's Butt. it makes him look like he's wearing thigh-highs i can't #did my DAMNEDEST not to inject trans mine propaganda into this when i was talking about qi and lin btw #IT REPRESENTS MALE AND FEMALE. MASCULINE AND FEMININE.#I DIDNT MENTION IT BUT IT LITERALLY REPRESENTS TRANSFORMATION WHATS NOT TO GETKLSGJKLGDSHJKLGDSHJK #“self-made man” 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️#ok. sorry. except not really #mine is SO trans to me i find myself genuinely baffled by depictions of him as cis #how else do you explain the misplaced nipples. top surgery [GONE WRONG] [GONE SEXUAL].#how else do you explain the Baby Mustache #how else do you explain hijikata having a notably deeper voice and more masculine features #enough said. i'll rest my case #all right have we stopped reading now.#we have? ok #the rggtattoos analysis sucks so bad SORRY #it's literally just copied and pasted from wikipedia without... actually examining what parts are RELEVANT to mine. that's all i'll say

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staycalmandhugaclone · 2 years ago

Text

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 2 Ch 4 - continuation to Flinching

Flinching – Med OC&TBB

Warnings: Summarized attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming. The first half is heavy, not gonna lie, but there's nothing explicit.

WC: 3,052

Back rigid, arms locked tight at my side, I stood at attention in perfect stillness; that relentless tremor of earlier anxiety overruled upon finding one of the most well-known jedi masters seated before me in the relatively small room, a curved desk lying between us with a chair clearly intended for me already pulled out expectantly across from them. I'd expected the soothing visage of General Shaak Ti, already familiar with the kindness in those dark eyes from fleeting interactions with her while meandering through Kamino’s labyrinth of halls, but General Kenobi’s presence took me by surprise.

“I hope it’s alright that it’s just the four of us. Given the unfortunate nature of this, I thought you might be more comfortable with fewer participants. If that's not the case, though, I'm sure we can make an exception.” Kenobi started, voice flowing in a gentle cadence that would have calmed anyone not trained to use it themselves.

“This is fine, General.” The automatic response was just shy of sharp, nerves tightening around my throat. He studied me a moment before letting his attention shift briefly to his datapad.

“Your squad offered a few… opinionated reports.” He risked only the lightest touch of humor in the statement. My brow quirked at that. A few? I’d known Tech reached out to the commander but hadn’t thought any of the others bothered adding their own report.

“It’s clear they care deeply for you, and I believe we have you to thank for ensuring this is handled through the proper channels rather than resolving the issue themselves.” General Ti added with a knowing smile, and I was glad for the cover of my armor shielding the blush creeping up my neck but cursed the ease with which the mic picked up my tiny huff of laughter, teeth immediately locking around my lip to silence it.

“An effort we very much appreciate.” Kenobi murmured. “From our understanding of what happened, I’d much rather his punishment be public – a reminder that such actions have no place in the Republic.” I felt the shift as vividly as if I’d just stepped into the icy waters of some forgotten lake; pleasantries were over. Their regretful expectation weighed heavily in the air around us, both pairs of eyes finding a sympathetic resolve as they watched me.

“Please,” Kenobi motioned toward the chair, “You’re welcome to take your helmet off if you’d like. We understand you recorded images of your injuries before tending them?” I stared at the offered seat for a beat too long, limbs frozen in a final moment of rebellion against tearing at wounds that hadn’t yet begun to heal. Air held trapped in burning lungs lest they hear how near to breaking I was, I forced myself across those few steps and sat stiffly before them, movements almost robotic as I stripped myself of that precious layer of concealment, unable to fully restrain the longing way my eyes watched my own hands set the helm atop the desk before finally meeting their gazes absent that cover of impenetrable transparasteel.

I knew the reason behind the sudden darkness in Kenobi’s eyes, the carefully restrained pity in Shaak Ti’s, and my jaw ground against the deep urge to turn away from them, to hide the ugly yellows still just tinted with purple that swelled over almost the entirety of the left half of my face, the thick lines of fresh scar tissue splitting my lower lip and stretching across the bridge of my nose.

“You should see the other guy.” There was a touch of disdain in my voice that I couldn’t help but let out, expression carefully blank as I pointedly returned their stares. Without giving them time to respond, I slipped the datapad from my waist, tongue darting out nervously to wet my lips as I blindly opened the file containing the collection of images I tried violently not to look at before passing the device across the table to them. It was Shaak Ti who reached out to take it, glancing only briefly at the screen before letting those dark eyes return to mine.

“I am sorry to ask this – I truly am… but would you tell us what happened?” She whispered, voice a quiet melody amidst the wretched stillness awaiting my answer. “No detail is too small. The more we know, the more we can help.” My gaze dropped once more to the gleaming white of my helmet, lingering over the strip I’d had to paint over after being pulled from my last squad at the heartbreaking understanding that I couldn’t wear their colors anymore.

I didn’t try to drag my attention away from that pristine surface again, barely noting the emotionless words trying vainly to tangle against my tongue as I recounted every moment I’d spent with the mercenary chosen to lead that mission. I told them of my quiet attentiveness in the briefing just prior to landing, of the seemingly pointless chats I’d found myself in with nearby soldiers but never directly with him, in the offhanded quip I’d made after their effortless victory of my job being the most difficult among them.

I didn’t pause as I spoke of him calling out to me just before I’d reached my room, the not-so subtle request for a medic’s attention and my equally unsubtle refusal. I recounted his every movement as though reading from an instruction manual, ridding even the tone of my voice of anything near to the panic I’d felt; the shock and rage and terror. I recounted each blow he’d landed with the same emptiness as I did when describing mine, the final kick to his knee that granted me enough time to dart through my door and engage the lock; how I’d kept myself trapped in there for the three days it took Hunter and the others to reach me, and the speed of my flight to reach the Marauder in hopes of avoiding even seeing the merc as I fled.

There was little comfort in the quiet that finally fell between us. I could feel them watching me, feel the tightness in their jaws as they forced back their own opinions to remain as outwardly impartial as possible. I expected nothing less, now awash with the dread of awaiting their judgement, terrified that they might disregard what had happened to me in favor of the military worth of a man capable of such success, or worse, that they’d feel my verbal attempts to dissuade him had been insufficient and that he held no fault for his actions.

The hiss of my datapad being pushed slowly across the table toward me finally drew my attention back to Kenobi. There was no blame in his eyes, and that, at least, granted me some small whisper of relief. Still, I found myself holding my breath, almost reluctantly returning the device to my waist.

“You must feel quite betrayed right now.” He offered quietly, and I felt myself cringing at whatever apologetic line he had prepared, “That was a man awarded a position of power by your superiors – an oversight that should never have happened. I understand-”

“With all due respect, General, I don’t think you do.” Soon, I would find myself horrified that I’d interrupted him. Soon, just thinking about the blatant disrespect of what I’d done would send my heart racing. Soon… but, as I met the crisp blue of his eyes, I didn’t shy from the title or power he himself seemed to disregard. I saw the pain he felt for me, the sincerity of his regret, and I spoke to him without reservation of rank or standing. “Having someone you’re supposed to trust do something like that… I hope it’s something you never have to understand.” My voice was soft. I didn’t blame him for this, but I needed to make sure he knew the weight of my words, the responsibility sharing them with him placed on his shoulders.

“I was lucky. I was able to fight back, and I have the support of my men to help me through it. But you’d be a fool to think this was his first time, and you’d be a greater fool to hope it’ll be his last.” He didn’t balk at the threat of insult, and I didn’t doubt the depth with which he felt everything I’d left unspoken; the dread that my words would go unheeded, the rage and guilt of what might happen if they did… the desperate plea for them to honor the horror of reliving that night that they might ensure it never happens again. He said nothing as his head dipped in a nod, and the sorrow he managed to portray in that simple gesture quieted me.

“If that’s all, Generals?” I asked, and I could hear the exhaustion finally creep into my voice. Kenobi’s gaze softened with a sympathy I wanted to balk at, but the gentle kindness in those eyes stilled even that.

“Of course. Thank you for trusting us with this. You’re dismissed… Cody?” Without another word, the commander nodded and stepped forward to lead me from the room.

“That was well spoken.” He didn’t look at me as he said it, posture still every inch the visage of quiet power the Marshall Commander was renowned for as he walked at my side. “I’m sorry there was any need for this at all, but I’m impressed with how you’ve handled it.” I almost replied, throat already shifting around a quip about how that made it all worthwhile, but the words died well before being granted speech, gaze merely falling back to the path before us.

I’d spent the walk trying to let my mind wander about nothing, ignoring the suddenly interested looks of nearby clones at my change of companion, tried not to hear their whispered theories or teases before the slightest shift of Cody’s helmet sent them scurrying. It was done. I’d fulfilled my part to the fullest. Now all I could do was trust the jedi, and hope…

“Ma’am, if you wanted to take some time to recover from this,” It wasn’t until we’d nearly reached that final stretch of halls that he finally spoke again, “I can promise no one would think any less of you for it. General Kenobi already suggested paid medical leave. He also mentioned offering you a transfer.” My body froze, foot still hovering mere inches above that meticulously polished tile. “I know Hunter and the others had nothing to do with what happened, but going through something like that… it can alter the dynamic of a group, make it harder to move on.” I could barely force breath through the sudden mass in my throat, shoulders aching from the tension coursing through them.

“You don’t have to answer now, but the offer to rejoin your old squad is there.” He shifted to continue forward, but paused upon realizing I made no move to join him. Did he note the sudden harshness of my too-deep breaths? The way my hands had balled into fists? With a painfully controlled motion, I slowly removed my helmet once more, this time driven with the intention of letting him see every ounce of my emotion – the utter fury burning through my eyes and the rage just twisting my lips into the beginnings of a scowl.

“No.” I didn’t grant him the respect of ‘sir.’ Not after what he’d said. “If I leave now…” The tense words just managed to growl through ground teeth, “do you have… any idea what that would do to them?” His head lifted, and I couldn’t tell if it was out of insult or shock, but I didn’t care. “I leave, then it doesn’t matter what anyone tells them – they’ll blame themselves even more, and I will not let that happen.” Fingers straining against the rigid plastoid tucked under my arm, I stole a half step toward him, glare burring into the empty darkness of his visor. “They get enough osik from every kriffing reg in this force-forsaken city! You’re the only clone I know whose name doesn’t make them shut down. Do not do that to them.” I stole several tense breaths, granting myself a few seconds to find some echo of calm before letting my tongue slip over my lips and willing some of that rage to settle.

“I love my old squad.” I told him, voice dropping into something nearer to a whisper. “I would kill and die for them in a heartbeat… but they don’t need me.” I hated the subtle plea just bleeding into my words but couldn’t bring myself to force it back. “This is where I’m supposed to be – this is where I want to be.” I was begging him. “Don’t take me away from them… please.”

He was still for a long moment, broad shoulders dancing beneath the subtle movement of unhurried breaths, and it was hard to imagine that there was a person under the impassive image of armor and stillness before me, that there was a man of flesh and blood, and I felt a brief flash of fear. Would the simple existence of my emotional attachment be all the justification he needed to submit a transfer? Had I sealed my fate in my very attempt to avoid it?

I didn’t move as he finally broke the painful stillness, mimicking my earlier gesture in the slow removal of his own helmet. He wasn’t looking at me, gaze staring blinding that the floor just beyond my boots as he tucked the awkward piece of armor under his arm. When he let that strangely familiar face find mine, it was with a deep reverence that left me frozen, struck by the tension in his jaw; the crushing weight in eyes I’d seen a thousand times in a thousand faces, each carrying a lifetime of experiences and hopes and fears that left them all unique in stunningly beautiful ways.

“Thank you.” That was it. He said nothing more before returning to the anonymity of his bucket and continuing down the hall. I hesitated mere seconds before quickly moving to follow him.

Echo tread through the door well before we’d reached it, and I felt the fond smile pull at my lips the instant his golden eyes seemed to sweep over me in an instinctive search for injury before turning to greet the commander standing beside me.

“Everything settled?” He asked, voice deep with an anger I knew would be slow to fade. Cody nodded, arms absently folding behind his back as he addressed his brother.

“Take care of this one, Echo. She’s worth holding on to.” The shock that wrenched my gaze back to that orange-streaked bucket drew a chuckle from the intimidating clone that left me even more taken aback, lips just falling open in a gasp as the man turned and began his trek back as though nothing had happened.

“Well, you made an impression.” He teased, and I couldn’t dismiss my relief upon seeing that smirk on his pale lips.

“I… I guess?” I stammered, unsure how to respond to the commander’s words. Blowing out a deep breath, I tried to let the events of the past hour fade into the background, attention shifting away from the steadily retreating figure. “I hope you guys didn’t get into too much trouble without me?” His grin grew, nodding over his shoulder with a nearly threatening silence. Lips bunching against a whisper of uncertainty, I tread lightly behind him into the barracks. And I instantly stilled.

“W… what’s all this?” I asked, gaze shifting between the handful of small canisters littering the large table normally home to countless piles of electronics and half-broken gear. Hunter stepped forward at my question, a glint of something too raw to risk naming shining in those eyes.

“Paint.” He stated simply, allowing just a moment for my confusion to begin to shift into a tentative understanding as Wrecker moved to join him, beaming grin stretched across his excited face. “If you’re going to be on this squad, it’s time you look the part – make sure everyone knows who they’re dealing with if they try to give you trouble.” My jaw ground against the way my breath suddenly hitched, shattering as my brows pinched together over eyes burning beneath that first flood of tears. “If you want?” He added, only just letting it drop into a question.

In a burst of motion, I threw myself forward, arms latching around him with every ounce of strength in me, body shaking with some indistinguishable mixture of sobs and laughter. He’d only just begun to recover from the sudden attack, hands hesitantly moving to settle against my back when I released him to charge Wrecker with the same burst of adoration and gratitude. He didn’t share even an ounce of Hunter’s surprise, instantly crushing me against him in an unrestrained embrace, deep chest shaking with his own booming laughter.

After several unsteady breaths, I tried to turn my attention to Echo, but Wrecker’s arms held me fast, and a flood of giggles burst through the smile stretching across my face. I didn’t have to look to know it was Echo’s hand that reached up to settle fondly against my shoulder. When he finally set me down, the initial fit of manic glee was quelled into something quieter, gaze turning to find Tech and Crosshair in turn.

“Thank you.” The words threatened to break, just escaping in a whisper. Tech responded with the briefest hint of a smile, while Crosshair offered only a short nod before letting his eyes drift quickly away from mine. Hunter ruffled his hand through my hair, and I readily shot him a squinted glare, but stilled as he leaned over me, lips near enough to just feel brushing against my ear as the quiet rumble of his voice murmured almost silently between us.

“You forgot about Rex.” Those barely audible words sent a fire blossoming up my neck, cheeks instantly flushing deep red. With a quiet chuckle, he merely stepped back toward the awaiting supplies and, flashing a knowing smirk, offered me a paint-covered brush. With a helpless scoff, I let my lips pull up into a grateful smile and stepped toward him.

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shadowphoenixrider · 6 months ago

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Summer Dreams

(This fic is set before Sins of the Past, because of course I write a fic that precedes it...after I post it. XD This is from Shadow's 1st person POV, and it's mostly fluff and some banter. Hope you enjoy!)

"Shadow, outside on a summer's day?" I rolled my eyes at the familiar Cajun drawl coming up beside me. "Never thought Gambit'd see de day."

I gave the dark-eyed mutant a Look, although I was unable to hold it against his wide, playful grin.

"I've been outside plenty of times, Cajun." I replied, folding my arms. "I'm just not as athletically gifted as you or the others - I prefer my outdoor time be savouring it, not being reminded of PE at school."

"That why ya prefer de Danger Room?" Gambit asked, shoving a hand into the pocket of his ripped jeans.

"Yeah. Less baggage, more fun." I half-chuckled. "Even when I get my ass kicked by everyone. I do feel like I'm getting better at it though, slowly but surely."

"Reckon so. Next guy dat tangles wit ya ain't gonna know what hit him!" Gambit chuckled.

My smile faltered, and I looked away. Ah, yes. I was only here for as long as my admin leave lasted, and the need to keep me hidden from the Friends of Humanity. Luckily the latter seemed no longer an issue, yet...

When I was younger, I had dreamed of being spirited away to a place like Xavier's school, a place where I belonged and could escape to. A place I could be me, could be more. Those dreams had lingered, despite growing up, buried under adult responsibilities.

Now they had been all but laid in my lap, all for the taking, yet I was no longer the bright-eyed energetic teenager like Jubilee. And it was clear I could never measure up to the other X-Men; their powers were stronger, their fighting prowess leagues ahead, and I had the body of a nerd whose crowning achievement was climbing a hill in the Scottish Highlands.

Xavier had assured me numerous times I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted, even beyond the agreement. Even Wolverine was fairly convinced that I was not threat to the team, mostly through me being a wet noodle in sparring matches, though the time had helped.

And yet...

A cool wind gusted by us, stirring the long grasses over the grounds like a beautiful green ocean, rippling like the surface of the lake. It would be cut short soon, as pleasant as it would be to see the wild flowers bloom within - a reputation had to be upheld.

"Beautiful day, eh, petite?" Gambit said softly. His gaze had followed mine, looking out over the rolling grasses, the breeze playing with the long curls of his red-brown hair. I found my eyes tracing the line of his stubbled jaw, chiselled like marble, lingering long enough that his eyes flicked back to me, catching me staring.

I blushed, quickly looking away.

"Y-Yeah, it is. It's why I came out. Wanted to enjoy it."

I saw something flash across Gambit's face from corner of my eye.

"Hope I ain't disturbin' you, then." Something in that statement made me frown slightly, an undercurrent of negativity.

"No, not all." I shook my head, looking back to him. "I don't mind company." I considered a moment, rewording myself. "I like your company."

His eyebrows lifted for a moment, an enigmatic smile tugging at his lips.

"Merci, petite," he said. "Glad ya feel that way."

I held his gaze for a long moment; his black and red eyes had always captivated me from the first moment we met, and they did so once again. It seemed that I'd also gotten under Gambit's skin, both literally and metaphorically, as he'd appeared to have taken it upon himself to be my unofficial guardian whilst staying the mansion. According to Jubilee, he'd done similar for her, so it wasn't exactly a surprise.

However, I couldn't shake the feeling that the Cajun with kinetic mastery had taken a particular shine to me. When I took time to myself, he often would check up on me just once to make sure I was alright, always asking about the latest errand I was running for Doctor McCoy, and even reading over my shoulder when he thought I hadn't noticed him.

Not to mention how willing he was to goad me into verbal sparring matches...

Suddenly, I heard a high-pitched twittering noise, rising and falling into a wheezy warble. Whipping my head to the side, I caught sight of a quick flash of blue across the grass, joined by another sweeping low with scythe shaped wings.

"Look! Swallows!" I gasped.

The swallows skimmed the grasses like fish through water, so impossibly fast that my eyes could barely keep up. Diving and twisting, their forked tail streamers flared whenever they changed direction in instants of a second, white bellies flashing in the sun. Bold or reckless, the swallows shot by us as streaks of blue, their bubbling song lifting up and around us.

"Ki-yar!" Gambit exclaimed as one wheeled inches from us, close enough to show the white spots under its tail. "Those birds can really move! Didn't know dey came out dis way."

"Neither did I!" I replied, giddy in my excitement as I watched them dance in the midday sun. "I was more expecting to see swifts!"

"Dere's a difference?" Gambit asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

"Yes - same family, different species. Look, watch this one!" I pointed to a swallow gliding low, just before it banked sharply, its tail streamers spread wide. "See how long its tail is? Swifts' tails are much shorter and stubbier. That and swifts are all black, look like miniature crescents when they're in the air. Swallows like these are blue and white, with a little red face."

The look on his face was one of intrigued wonder, almost like he was seeing me for the first time again.

"They both hunt similarly, though I've more often seen swallows hunt like this - snatching insects hovering above the long grass." I continued. "Swifts tend to fly high, so high you can barely see them circling above. But you definitely hear them - it's a sound you've probably heard before, though didn't know what it was. It's a high-pitched scream, very eerie." I chuckled. "There's tales that they used to be known as the Devil's Screamers because of it."

"That so?" Gambit raised an eyebrow. A smile pulled across his lips. "Sounds like dese birds mean a lot to you."

"Birds in general do." I lifted a shoulder. "I just...I just like them. Always a little annoyed my mutant powers never let me fly or become one, honestly."

Gambit chuckled richly.

"Ain't that the truth. Bein' able to fly would make things quite a bit easier. Don't mind being picked up by de ladies on missions, but it'd be nice not to have to rely on them, you know?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. You don't want to be seen as a burden all the time. Especially when you can't see how you could be an asset to them."

Gambit glanced at me, expression unreadable.

"The Professor says there always be somethin' you can give back. Even if ya don't see it yet," he said.

"Hah." I let my gaze drift back to the swallows. "I don't know what I can give aside from my powers, and they don't even work on two of you."

"Gambit can think of many things a beautiful woman like yourself can bring to de team, mon amie." Gambit said, one thick eyebrow arched. "Far beyond ya company an' excellent conversation."

"If you make a comment about my ass, I'm punching you." I shot back, annoyance prickling along my skin. Really?!

"Non, Gambit not gonna play with you like that," he said, his tone becoming contrite. "If ya did want to stay with us, you would be givin' back. Even if ya powers can't heal Rogue an' only sorta work on Wolverine, he don't need it. An' dat still leaves everyone else dat would appreciate ya healing touch after a bad day at de office."

"As for not bein' as fit as de rest of us - it come wit time, petite. Gambit had a bit of a headstart, but he had to get in shape too. Jubilee'll do de same when she gets old enough. An' maybe ya don't ever get to de same level as us." He shrugged. "Den dat's fine. Beast be more den happy to have someone wit him in de lab, or lookin' up things when we be out in de field. 'Nother fighter be useful, but that don't mean ya useless. Far from it."

A pair of swallows twisted and tumbled together, twittering excitedly. They seemed so free, unchained from worries and guilt and doubt. One arched away from its mate, barrelling towards us as it sang its reedy, warbling song, so close it stirred the hair covering my ear.

For a second, I wasn't on the grounds of the X-Mansion; I was back at school, young, feeling completely alone. Yet the swallows hurtled across the playing fields like blue bullets, whipping past my ears and filling the air with song. They lifted my heart, dancing around me without a care in the world, as free as the wind they soared through. How I longed to follow them, to escape the fear and the hurt and the-

"Shadow?" Gambit's voice snapped me from my memories. He was frowning slightly. "Doin' ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just...thinking."

"Anythin' you wanna share with Gambit?" He asked kindly.

"I..." I shut my mouth. Thought for a second. "I always liked birds, but swallows have always had a close place in my heart." I explained, Gambit watching me intently. "I remember always being so excited to see them arrive when I was little, seeing their little chicks all squashed into the nest. They're beautiful birds, both in how they look and how they fly. And they...they've always been a good sign, for me."

"How so?"

"I...When I went through a rough patch, growing up, I didn't see them as often. When I did, it would be an event to me. A good day, something I could cling to when everything was shit." I smiled. "They became my good luck charm."

The Cajun slowly turned his head to the swallows.

"Den it certainly be a good day for you," he said gently.

"Yes. Definitely." I nodded. That was it. My mind was made up.

Swallows made their own destinies, flying hundreds upon thousands of miles over fathomless oceans and burning deserts to where they'd been born to raise their own chicks. It was time I made my own.

"Hey Gambit?" I asked, stepping closer to him.

"Hmm?" He hummed pleasantly, turning his head to me.

"Think the Danger Room's free right now?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Bored of de outside already, petite?" He teased.

"Well, I wanted to do some practice with you, but now I think I want to kick your ass!" I grinned, folding my arms and straightening my back to my full height.

"Dem's fightin' words, mon amie! Gambit don't know if ya can deliver, though." He grinned back, tucking a finger under his chin. "Maybe if Gambit tie his hand behind his back?"

I shoved him playfully, making him laugh.

"You are such a twat!" I turned away from him, folding my arms again. "Maybe I'll ask Storm instead, if you're gonna be mean to me!"

"Ah come now petite, Gambit only razzin' ya!" His grin gentled into a smile, and I let him slide his arm around my shoulders. "Gambit always happy to practice wit ya. Got any other ideas if it be taken, though?"

"Not really, hadn't thought that far ahead." I admitted, looking up at him. "You got anything that doesn't involve a card game?"

"Pshht, not everythin' 'bout Gambit involves cards, petite."

"Only most things." I smirked, raising an eyebrow.

It was his turn to give me a side-eyed Look.

"Ok, now you be de mean one, mon amie."

"Hey look, you were the one who started this!" I replied, spreading my hands.

"Maybe Gambit should jus' go away den if ya gonna hurt his feelin's!" He declared dramatically, pulling an upset expression two degrees away from needing a fainting couch.

"Nooo, don't go." I giggled, grabbing his wrist as he tried to unwind his arm from me. "Where else am I going to find a handsome Cajun to keep me company?"

The switch in his demeanour was immediate and amusing, Gambit leering at me with an eyebrow quirked and a suggestive grin.

"Oh, you think Gambit's handsome, do you?" His voice sunk into a lower register that made my lower back shiver.

"You're not bad on the eyes, no." I said, trying to ignore the heat rising into my face. "Anyway, I was asking you about what other ideas you might have if the Danger Room's busy."

Gambit seemed to debate with himself for a second or two, before he blinked, softening his expression.

"It do be a bit of a shame to head to de Danger Room an' waste this beautiful day, petite," he said. "How about we take a walk down to de lake? Might not be as intense as de simulations, but ya might enjoy stretchin' ya legs a little more dis way."

I frowned thoughtfully.

"Gambit be happy to let ya walk alone though, if ya prefer." He added, slightly hurriedly. "Dere be a path ya can follow dat takes ya back to de mansion-"

"I enjoy your company, Gambit." I reminded him, smiling. "And you're right. We should enjoy this day whilst we've got it." I nodded towards the forest. "Shall we?"

For a moment, Gambit's smile was wide and genuine, almost...giddy? And then he stepped up next to me, and we began our stroll, the swallow-song following in our wake.

#sprs writing #x men #gambit #remy lebeau #oc/gambit #oc/canon #self insert #fluff #dialogue heavy #playful banter #shadow/gambit #self ship #self insert/gambit #self insert x gambit #x men oc: shadow #otp: heart of the cards

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updownlately · 9 months ago

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okay so bear with me here, but i just wanted to lay my personal opinion down on this because other opinions have been expressed regarding this and i didn't really say my piece on this specific part yet.

im not trying to drag lj down here, or bring this back up for her to be dragged. i just want to state my piece here in regards to the conversations we've been having since last night.

regarding the conversations that have been occurring on this blog in the past 24 hours about lj and katie's behaviour, and with lj's wc behaviour being brought up, i said that (and i quote) "the lack of apology irked me the most! that and how the attention was directed to racial abuse." and "the fact that such a key issue wasn’t even touched upon is frankly extremely disappointing from the lionesses, chelsea, and lj herself."

i honestly still stand firm in my stance and here is why.

***adding a cut bc this shit got kinda long

i've attached the two main apologies i've found, one from the lionesses, and one from lj (her tweet).

the reason that i personally am not satisfied with the response and why i said lack of apology, is because i feel that the words said were not enough. yes sorry was said. yes, it mentioned the actions and remorse that lj felt. but for me, 'really sorry' doesn't cut it. that combined with 'wholly out of character for her' doesn't sit right with me.

we know this isn't out of character. and personally, actions speak louder than words, and the immediate walk out without a single change in facial expression when the incident originally occurred + every. single. time. it has occurred since is insane. this isn't a one time behaviour. being 'really sorry' doesn't cut it. yes you can respect another player and whatnot, but if you're going to let your emotions consistently negatively dictate how you treat them on the pitch, and it being with anything other than respect, that is where i don't see the apology being more than pixels on a screen meant to placate the (rightfully) enraged public.

could i see it a fit apology if action was taken to prevent this from happening again in the future? abso-freaking-lutely!!

but that's the issue for me. nothing has changed. literally nothing.

i caught part of the city vs chelsea game that occurred a few days ago, and as the clock got closer to the end, it was clear how each of lj's tackles and shoves got more and more dangerous. heck, she absolutely bodied a player in the air when it was unnecessary. that could've ended so poorly and im glad it didn't, but i digress.

i'm thinking of the walti incident because its the first that comes to mind as an arsenal fan. the clearly placed stomp. the indifferent look. the walkout without a single hesitation or look of remorse. that isn't the behaviour of someone who is sorry for their actions. that behaviour then isn't 'out of character'.

so then coming back to lj's apology. is she really sorry? or is she sorry it was caught? that too at such a big stage? and where was the attempt to 'learn from my experience'? because honestly? i don't see it.

and i don't doubt there's been more instances like this, ones that i haven't seen (i don't watch chelsea games that often, the timing of most wsl games isn't convenient for me since many occur from 4-7 am and i have commitments during the day). but they seem to be a reoccurring theme.

so yes. there was an apology issued. no i don't think it was a good apology in the least and the behavioural aspect wasn't touched upon. the incident was treated like a one off occurrence (which it clearly isn't).

this all gets furthered by the fact (and i can't rmb who so please forgive me and educate me here if possible), but it was either chelsea or the lionesses that released a statement about racial abuse.

now, i'm not disagreeing that racial abuse occurred, and im definitely not saying that it was okay.

it wasn't okay. racial abuse is never okay and never will have a space in the football that i know of (or anywhere for that matter). period. full stop.

and so yes, i agree with their statement. but to me, it felt as if the red card situation was brushed under the rug.

now, don't get me wrong. racial abuse is totally is extremely important and should be kept to a zero in any situation whatsoever and im glad there was a statement released regarding that matter.

but i recall that when i read that statement, i personally felt as if it was more of a deflection than a stance, and that is what didn't sit right with me.

now, i could totally be wrong there. i understand there's a innumerable amount of perspectives here. i'm merely going off my opinion and what i felt when reading that statement. everyone had a different experience/reaction to it and i can recognize and respect that. all i ask if you respect my take even if you don't agree with it.

(i've lost my train of thought so bear with me if it gets a bit murky here)

but yeah, for me, all of that combined really just made me feel that the apology wasn't adequate, given the severity of the situation.

don't get me wrong. i think lj's is a generational talent. i really do. her footwork, her body feints, her ability to score rockets and find pockets of space that barely exist for more than a second is absolutely insane!

but while i can recognize she's a fantastic player, i don't have to be satisfied with the apology she gave during those times. and i'm not.

is it a weird line to balance for me? 100%. it is something i think about quite often to be honest.

as someone who likes to say they have a concrete set of morals, ethics, values, and whatnot that i like to follow, this is tough for me to navigate. it's very much in the grey area and the lines do get blurred.

im astonished by lj's skill level, but i can't find it in myself to 'rep' her as a player like i do with my other favourites or players that i think are outstanding.

the behaviour doesn't sit right with me and it influences how i perceive her as a footballer and a person, and that's just the way it is.

so all in all, if you've made it this far: a) congrats on making it through my word vomit! thank you really. b) this is my personal take/opinion. all i ask is you try and understand where i may be coming from before you attack me, should you choose to do so. c) im a barely twenty-smt kid tryna navigate life. this is new territory for me, i'm not perfect and i know it. could i be absolutely wrong? yes. but does this stance feel correct to me right now? yes.

and yeah.

at the end of the day. no, that apology wasn't acceptable in my opinion. you can accept it should you choose to wish so, i just won't be. not yet atleast.

anyways, thanks for coming to my ted talk lmao

-blu

#holy fuck this got long #y'all wanted a fic? i give you this instead #sorry i just really wanted to put this out there even if only one person reads this #tho(ugh)ts #blu's takes #lauren james

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garbinge · 6 months ago

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Shotgun Rider

Frank Castle & OC Ana "Ty" Tyler 30 Day Fic Challenge (16/30)

Word Count: 1.7k

Continuation of this fic A/N: Okay so I've toyed with the idea of making these two a couple, but I'm always so hesitant because I feel like their platonic relationship is just so perfect (in their own way of course) and that they're both just sooo complicated and wrapped up in their own shit to really even think about that, but idk. Maybe one day??? But for now, enjoy their friendship lol.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of violence, blood, wounds, etc.

All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

“Thanks by the way.” Ty broke the silence in the car, she was pretty sure she snapped Frank out of some deep thought.

“For what?” He grunted as he readjusted himself, almost embarrassingly, like his inner thoughts had been broadcasted on a loud speaker.

“Coming with me, you didn’t even ask any questions you were just grabbing our shit and going.” Her legs were crisscrossed on the seat as her hands mindlessly played with the anklet sitting on her right foot.

“You came into my life with no fuckin’ warning, Ty.” Frank’s hood was over his ears but his face was still extremely visible. It was a statement she weren’t expecting from him and could honestly go in any direction. “And as much as I fought to have a simple fucking life without issue. I gotta say, if I was forced to spend my time with someone, I guess I’m glad it’s with you.” He shrugged.

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” Ty teased, now staring at Frank with a grin.

“To you.” He tipped his head towards her as he teased her back.

This caught Ty’s attention and her eyebrows raised and she gave him a questioning look. “What sweet things did you say to Karen.”

“Next.” He closed off immediately.

“For the record, if I was forced to spend my time with someone, I guess I’m glad it’s with you too.” She agreeably changed the topic back to their original one. “You’re my shotgun rider, Frank.”

“I think you’re my shotgun rider.” He pointed to the seat she was sitting in.

“It’s metaphorical, you came on this mission for me.” She corrected him. “So you’d be my shotgun rider.”

“My friend was in distress, I came to help a friend, not on a mission.” He tried to argue.

“So you admit it, I’m your friend.” She smiled, loving when she could trip him up like this.

“I really liked it when we were quiet, wasn’t that nice? Enjoying the view.” He pointed out the windshield.

“It’s Ohio, Frank. There isn’t shit to see it look all the same.”

“Don’t they say Ohio is the heart of it all?”

“I don’t know who says that but they’re on crack.” She leaned her head on the window and watched the same landscape pass her by as the miles ticked.

Eventually she opened the window, letting Roxy her dog sit calmly on her lap as the breeze hit her face while Ty let her hand out the side making waves in the wind.

“How old’s your niece?” Frank asked, knowing the both of them were approaching the destination.

“15. But not sure how 15 she really is. She was forced to grow up pretty quick, learn about shit that a kid had no business knowing.”

“Well, you have experience in that area.” Frank thought he was being helpful but it just added to the weight of all this.

“It’s because of me that she’s dealing with this.” Ty put all the blame on herself.

Frank wanted to argue but he knew it wouldn’t do anything, this was something she’d have to work through on her own.

“We’re like 15 minutes away. You got a game plan or are we improvising when we get there?”

“No, I have a game plan. I’m thinking we survey the area for 5, just laps, keep our eyes peeled. Once we’re in the clear or at least have markers on what to keep an eye on, I’ll go up to the door but gonna need you to have my six. I’m thinking grab and go, she should have her shit together, I don’t want to be there for more than 5 minutes tops in case anyone is moving in. But if they are, they won’t do it right away so it gives us a little bit of a window.” It was thought through because she had been planning it for the entire ride.

“Understood.” Frank nodded. “You want me to wait outside the door? In the car?” Frank knew outside the door was the closest to having her six but inside the car would be more stealth and keep their window open.

“Nah, with me in the room.” She responded so quickly, again, knowing exactly how she wanted this to go down.

“You realize in the car I have the element of surprise.” He was confused.

“But in the room we can communicate better.” It was a shitty excuse and Frank knew it.

“I could set up comms?” He was frowning. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything.” Her arms were crossed.

“Bullshit.” His hand waved and then gripped the wheel.

“If something happens to me, I need you there to take care of her. If we go in together I can introduce you to her quickly, she’ll know you’re my friend and have some sort of trust, if you wait in the car she won’t know you from them.”

Frank sighed, seeing how deeply traumatized Ty was from all this but also understanding her thought process.

“Alright inside it is.”

_______________

As Ty knocked on the door, a special knock Frank picked up on the rhythm of it to signal that it was her, it opened pretty immediately. Both Ty and Frank slipped into the room, Frank moving to the window, pulling his gun out of his waist band, and readjusting the one in his zip up hoodie out so it was strapped across his chest. He didn’t move the curtains by much, maybe a centimeter but his eye was on the marker he spotted during their scoping.

“Who the fuck is that?” THe voice he wasn’t familiar with spoke up and he knew she was referring to him.

“That’s Frank, he’s a friend of mine and he’s here helping us, okay? We like Frank, Frank is cool.”

“The coolest.” He chimed in, bringing up the scope from the gun strapped across his chest to get a better look out the window. “4 minutes, Ty.” He said, his voice staying calm.

“Where’s your stuff, let’s grab it and get in the car.” Ty’s voice was completely the opposite, it was breathy and stressed. Frank picked up on it immediately and adapted his mindset and expectations based on that.

“Right now? Can we just take a beat please. I feel like I’ve been on edge for days and now that you’re here I feel like I can breath.” The young girl’s voice was hopeful, Frank could hear that clear as day and he immediately realized he might be the only one on their 100% game right now.

“3 and a quarter.” Frank kept his neutral tone, hoping the warning would be enough to stap Ty back into it.

“We don’t have time. Grab your stuff, let’s go.”

There she was. That was what Frank said to himself in relief for a brief second before he saw movement in his scope.

“Time changed. We got 60 seconds. We go now or we prep for some type of interaction.”

“Fuck.” The stress in Ty’s voice came back.

Frank wished he could turn to look at her and snap her back into it but he needed to keep his eye on outside.

“Alright, you in the drawer.” Ty rolled out the bottom dresser drawer and placed the bible quickly in the top one so as to not leave a clue of where the girl was.

“The drawer? Forget it, let’s go in the car, I’m ready.” She had her bag in hand finally.

“Too late, in the drawer now.”

But unfortunately it was too late for everyone because someone was breaking into the bathroom window, the place where Frank wasn’t and almost immediately there was gunfire before everything went black.

________

As Frank opened his eyes, he looked around to see himself in the passenger seat of the van, one of Ty’s long black sleeves tied tight around his shoulder. His eyes looked over to see Ty driving the van, her eyes glued to the road, besides her occasional glance to the rearview and side mirror to see if we were being followed. Frank looked behind him to see the young girl who was her niece passed out, using Rox as a pillow.

“What happened?” Frank tried to adjust how he was situated without grunting too much.

“You got shot and passed out.” Her eyes still not moving from the road.

“I’ve been shot plenty of times, never passed out from a bullet wound.” He was confused.

“Yea you hit your head on the dresser drawer when you went down from the hit.”

It was then that Frank felt the throbbing pain in his head, he wasn’t anywhere near the dresser from what he could remember so he was confused how this all really went down.

“You played hero, took the bullet for me. Which turned out to be good because when you went down and hit the drawer, you knocked it off it’s tracks and it popped up so I could use it to knock out the guy shooting at us and get to the front door in time to shoot the two people coming from there. Good thinking on the silencer on your handgun.” She leaned forward and grabbed it from under the middle console.

“They follow us?” Frank was now leaning forward to look in his side mirror.

“Don’t think so, think we got them all, but I’ve been circling for a while keeping my eye out before I start heading back.”

“How’d you get me in the car?” He was curious, he wasn’t exactly light.

“Layla grabbed your feet and I grabbed your shoulders.”

“Layla, huh?” Frank looked back again to see her even more cuddled to Rox.

“Get some rest, I’ll drive us home.”

“Just kick me if you wanna switch.” He resituated himself again and closed his eyes.

‘For the record, you’re my shotgun rider forreal now.” The smirk could be heard in Ty’s voice.

“Shut up.”

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