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variousqueerthings · 6 months

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VERY RAMBLY BUT I think rose and martha are like the inverse of one another in terms of narrative, in that they both meet a doctor who is deeply deeply hurt, but the doctor interacts with them about it so differently, because of where they're at with that hurt, and the doctor is like "hey, I'm suave and vulnerable beneath the surface, which is quite attractive, want to travel in space and time in my whimsical timeship?" and they both go "oh heck yes!" and then it's like splintered glass from that point on, like martha lives in a funhouse mirror of rose's story -- up until she makes it her own of course and she does call the doctor out on it relatively early on, although rose continues to have that haunting effect

so rose has this bubble created around her that is perfect and unchangeable almost, in which nothing bad can ever happen (except for all the times it does but huuush, we'll be together forever forrealsies don't look at that big ol hurricane hurtling our way), which then inevitably bursts, but is always there-as-memory, because rose becomes something of an impossible ideal to some extent

and martha isn't protected at all, and has all the badness spilling out on her because the doctor is unable to contain any of it (and maybe is relieved to finally give up on being strong), and subsequently all of the promise of wonder has an air of sourness to it, and the doctor will always feel incredibly guilty about how it all ended

but crucially there's a lot they have in common, that is quite different to, say, donna (who is woven in in her own, interesting, way) -- they both become attracted to this powerful, interesting, and suuuper traumatised being, they're both taken along on a journey of promised wonders, they're both incredibly reliable to the point that the narrative is retroactively fitted around how much the doctor's belief-systems revolve around belief in their companions, with many others from the past given their dues (starting with sarah-jane), and they both do see wonders beyond their comprehension (and so does donna, but again, there's something a bit different there to poke at in another post...),

except where for rose this wonder helps her break out of the path that was set down for her and become who she always had the potential to be in a way that is mostly framed as a positive (although with some -- I think -- under-analysed caveats...) and she will be forever thankful for the doctor arriving in her life, martha's is more like an awe that the universe is so hostile and so lonely and so heartbreaking, and so she needs to become more resilient and more ready to make choices that are terrible (from travelling the broken world for a year to the osterhagen key....), and so there's another story about someone who becomes strong and tough (just like rose) but it's because the doctor wasn't really able to be there for her, and while I don't think the show (from memory) ever has her totally regretting the doctor dropping into her life, there for sure is some solemnity to how her story ends, a bit of a dampener in comparison (even tbh in comparison to donna, who yeah, gets her memory taken, but is suggested -- now confirmed perhaps? -- to get more of her life in order/feel more self-confident, also partially because of that subliminal influence of her time with the doctor)

and this isn't to say that it's all-bad for martha! her working for UNIT and Torchwood has a lot of very interesting facets to it, and she is fulfilling her potential to be this impressive, capable person, but the ways all of this was built up to is so heartrending

rose coming in and "saving" the doctor, except it was a bit of a lie, because the second she wasn't there they crashed even harder than before, and martha coming in with the idea that she could save the doctor and walking away when realising what it was doing to her life, and both rose and martha irrevocably changed to the point that the person pre-doctor is barely recognisable in them anymore, both take on the doctor's self-sacrificial traits...

and also the idea that rose gets the fantasy, but it's the fantasy a-bit-to-the-left (funhouse again) because there's always something a bit disconcerting about the lengths the doctor goes to to maintain the bubble, to the point of offering up the alternate-him/tentoo so that she can still have it, even though the actual physical doctor that shared it with her isn't actually there! and martha gets the glimpse of the fantasy, and then has to come to terms with the fact that she's not the person it's "for" and reassess her relationship to the idea of a fantasy in the first place (it helps that martha is an incredibly practical, pragmatic person, but it's still so... ouch)

I don't think it was intentional, but this also fascinating from the perspective of rose as a white woman and martha as a black woman -- who is the fantasy for, to the extent that strange and universe-breaking events go into maintaining it, and who has to be practical and pragmatic and self-reliant?

and also, it's got more tragedy in both cases -- rose as a spectre/haunter of the narrative is always a little bit intangible when she's looked back on (even though in the story she's in she's incredibly real and well-rounded, every time I go back to s1 I am struck by how grounded she is in reality), and I think that's something interesting in terms of her mother's warning in s2, how if she travels with the doctor "forever" she'll become something else, something not her

and martha's mother warns her as well, although she's not completely sure of what, and in contrast to rose this warning comes into very painful fruition, harming her entire family (except, maybe her brother? I wonder if there's anything written about that), but where rose is so omnipresent, martha tries several times to take herself out

(also something about both of their mothers being their anchor-points)

there's something there that's at the centre of both rose's and martha's arcs:

is the change they're going through because of the doctor... good? good for them? good for their families? good as in they're becoming better people than before? good for the world they inhabit? is it good for the person they used to be? did they become better than that person? can they ever truly deal with or even begin to comprehend how these events made them who they are? can they even connect who they are now to who they were then? was this good?

they both become these larger-than-life people, somewhat without noticing on both parts (but the narrative does notice), one of them a ghost, and the other a soldier -- one of them an increasingly intangible, ever-present idea, and the other someone who has to fight every step of the way

it's just a bunch of things I've had going through my head that I can't quite formulate in coherent essay-like sentences, but for sure it's there

opposite sides of the coin, rose tyler and martha jones

I do wish they'd had space in the story for them to talk

#martha jones #rose tyler #doctor who #dw #i also wish they'd had space in the narrative for them to make out but youknow #i know that rose and tentoo is generally interpreted as a net-positive -- including in a subsequent comic #but it was always very eerie to me #this also to deal with the fact that while i looove martha's arc in s4 #hers was the weakest goodbye scene in the final episode imo #because the pair the spares makes it seem like there wasn't a lot of thought put into it/where she is now #and like sure they're both hanging out with jack at torchwood but it's so out of the blue #and then she finishes up with a gun in her hand -- far cry from where we met her even in poison sky #working for UNIT but! --- but does fit somewhat from where we saw her end s4 when she was ready to destroy the world #but it's still sort of disconnected from the story? why is she there? why is there a sontaran there? why gun and not medicine? questions #questions for which the answer presumably was: because she looks badass but i need More than that! I need Answers!#argh martha i want so badly for them to at least mention you in the specials. where are you 🥺🥺🥺#gun to your head rtd do it!#doctor who meta

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haru-chi · 3 months

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Okay, let's talk about the recent Natuyuu chapter for a little bit ... and something that just moved me to tears ><

let's ignore that the appearance they teased was for the cats and not what I wanted and wished for which's fine I'm fine I knew it was impossible .. yet hoped nonetheless

the chapter was really cute indeed, but I was shocked that the Reiko's pic was gonna be addressed right after the reveal !!! that took me by surprise yet a very happy one to confirm what I was saying back then ...

but before that, the way Natsume started to realize and know for sure that that might've been Reiko by remembering his father was too much for me ...

this chapter was such a good demonstration of how much our little sunshine has grown so much emotionally ... I was tearing up seeing him trying very hard to remember that blurry memory of his father taking him to an amusement park T^T

the boy who forced the memories out of his system so as not be broken down by it .. the same boy who refused to see the only parents' picture he had so that he won't be hurt or cry when he sees them ... who always pretending to be fine talking about his real family .. who ran away from any mention of them that he just purged any faint memory he once had till the point he really forgot everything related to them despite how this act of itself was hurting him deeply ...

this same boy right now is doing his best to remember his own father .. to remember a said precious memory .. he was trying really hard something the past Natsume would never do .. but sadly, all he managed was those blurry images .. he no longer remembers his father's face .. yet he wasn't broken down or sad .. he was actually happy as if he holds something dear to him .. that even if it's blurry, even if he no longer remembers it much ... the fact that it exists no matter how faint it was was enough for him .. he does have such a happy memory inside of him afterall .. he was content by this alone .. not pain or sadness but happy to know it was there ..

I can't say it well enough how much he has grown up now ...

and when by the end he did remember this faint memory very clearly .. he didn't cry or was sad (I sure was tho) No, he was very happy as if he was above the clouds dreaming something nice ... even Madara comment that he was weirdly happy and daydreaming ...

this was just ... how to say it ... it just moved me to tears with happiness ..

and his father ... his father was such a kind loving father which just break my heart even further .... Natsume didn't cry but I cried in his place ... even tho I was also happy and proud of him so much ..

Now to Reiko ...

I really was happy how Midorikawa-sensei proved my point when I said that Natsume lacks the ability to recognize a happy Reiko because he just never seen her like that, so even when that picture was indeed Reiko Natsume's mind was like "a girl that looked like Reiko" ... I won't dig deeper for this since I already did for a bit in a different post.

"if that picture was indeed Reiko, is the reason I didn't recognize her because that was an expression I have never seen before ?? I think that smile perhaps was ...."

the way Midorikawa-sensei let Natsume realize that through his father's memory was clever yet cruel to me .. while also proving that that smile was indeed toward someone she loved (her husband) .. a kind of smile that you show to someone dear to you like the loving smile Natsume's father showed to him in that memory ...

now was the artist her husband ?? or was it a 3rd party who knows both of them, so they only captured the moment ?? in the first place why was her picture in an exorcist auction ?? I guess that the next question that Natsume needs to address now that he confirmed she was indeed Reiko :)

slowly but surely, the grandfather reveal is upon us and I'm here for it and all the pain he will bring with Reiko's full story :)

PS : a funny thought that occurred to me when Natsume was thinking " what kind of person will buy that picture I wonder?" and my mind went "who knows, maybe he will be Yorishima as plot twist" as if that shut-in exorcist will go to auctions or even leave his house for that matter xDD

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #now back to the long wait ......#-heavy sigh- I'm fine #why isn't it monthly at least ???#I'm scared with any future plot point in the future ...#no matter who will it be next ... I know it will be big and painful or full of emotions ...#now that Natsume is indeed more emotionally strong and stable .. I guess ... now he can face any harsh truth or situations #the kind that no way he could handle it in the past ...#be it about himself ..his family... Natori... Seiji etc etc ...#but I'm just proud of him ... this chapter alone is a good demonstration of his character development of the personal level

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sheerluxk · 7 months

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not good at goodbyes part 1/3 - s. geto x f!reader

synopsis: two weeks had passed since the village incident and you haven’t seen suguru since then, until he showed up one night for one last goodbye. you didn’t know that his goodbye would be expressed in that way, but it had only made things worse for you.

warnings: angst; sad themes; mentions of crying; mention of yuki tsukumo; reader loves suguru but would end up sleeping with gojo; characters are aged-up appropriately

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“Suguru?”

You could hear the faintest of cracks on the wooden floor as a dark figure approached you.

Your previously asleep form was trying to take in the surroundings, and eventually your eyes adjusted well enough so that you could see the outline of Suguru’s form roaming like a ghost in the corridors of Jujutsu High, where he hasn’t stepped foot in over two weeks.

Two weeks since the village incident, and two weeks since a cavity in your heart had opened, and even his appearance now could fail to mend it. You were angry, and you were heartbroken.

And yet, you were happy that he was well. But then why did it hurt so much? You knew what he was here for. The anticipation stung so badly that you wanted to turn away and have him chase you one last time.

Maybe grab onto you and hold you forever, but that would be wishful thinking.

He stopped in front of you with a bitter smile that you swore had a different accent to it. You always felt that his smiles when you, Satoru and Shoko would hangout were genuine, yet there was a suppressed emotion, like sadness hidden underneath . It made you wonder if your other two classmates ever picked up on that, or it was only you in this wretched world who understood how he felt, yet was utterly helpless to bring out a fully satisfied and guttural laugh out of him.

So you unknowingly felt a bit of betrayal as you noticed how his smile looked complete now. You couldn’t do that to him. He only had to act out on his urges so he would be truly happy. You hated yourself, but you couldn’t hate him.

Suguru was just another person who started with good intentions, but eventually began to rot along with the system. You always wished you knew how to say the right words to him, so that maybe you could convince him otherwise, and yet you were essentially miles ahead better at it than Yuki Tsukumo.

You happened to overhear their conversation as you were passing along Haibara on your way down to the bathhouse area. In a way you felt that she had influenced his dark descent, but you also blamed yourself for never butting in. Maybe if you had, the outcome would’ve been different. You hated that Tsukumo was left scot- free while you and Satoru were drowning in your sadness for over 15 days now. Shoko was really good at hiding her emotions, but the prominent eyebags that were forming on her face and the many empty packs of cigarettes told a tale of its own. Jujutsu High was in mourning, except for the higher-ups who wanted him dead. It was their fault in the first place, and you saw firsthand how disposable all of you are. All of you, except Satoru. And even still, he was resented by them, which somewhat gave you hope that the system could change.

But it couldn’t change on time for Suguru to be saved.

You fisted the blanket that was draped over your shoulders as you fought the urge to break down in tears and jump into his arms. Maybe you should, at this point.

He called out your name with the same bitter smile, “You don’t look too well.”

He was saddened by that fact, because he always chased your happiness and satisfaction over his own, except for that one recent time. And he saw how it had completely broken you.

You sniffled a bit, “Yeah, you should see Satoru. He’s absolutely crushed.”

“That’s why I don’t have the guts to face him,” he chuckled, “Perhaps we’ll cross paths soon, and then…”

He stayed quiet for a moment as he observed you. He laid his arms upon your shoulders, like he was preparing to tell you something gut-wrenching. Spoiler alert, you already knew that he was going to say goodbye and leave for God knows where. Without you, without Satoru and Shoko. He’d eventually replace you all.

But instead of saying anything, he closed the distance between you two. You being way smaller than him, you were practically eye level with his collarbones, who were covered up by a black sweatshirt that you remember you wore a few times. His scent was always amazing, as it was even now. And yet, it was way sweeter in that moment, which made you all the more closer to the brink of tears.

You slowly looked up to meet his eyes, who were gazing at your face with a sincere and soft expression. It irked you so badly,

“God, Suguru! Why do you have to look at me like that when I know you’re about to do this horrible thing!” you whisper-shouted, feeling the lump in your throat get heavier by the second.

He chuckled quietly and shook his head, “I’m not good at goodbyes. But, I came here to get something out of my chest. Something that I could only tell you.”

His sharp eyes looked like they could hold galaxies, and even still they couldn’t hold a place for you. You were wrong, though, because Suguru only had eyes for you, but his goals were set somewhere else. Maybe in another life, he thought.

He didn’t know that this wouldn’t be your last meeting, but neither did you in the moment. For now, he treated it like a last meeting.

That’s why he pulled you even closer and pressed his soft lips on yours, who were rather dehydrated from all the previous crying you had done. They complimented yours though, as you already felt them plump up by the way he was hungrily biting onto yours when you had returned the kiss. He fought the urge to push you back into your room, but he knew that he wasn’t here for that. So he slowly pulled away from you, even a bit shyly as he shook away the thoughts that didn’t fit the current situation. He didn’t know you were trying your best, too.

You both looked into each other’s eyes as you tried to catch your breath. You had somehow forgotten about all of the bad things when he was kissing you, and now you realized how much you wished you could kiss him forever if that would be the case.

“I have to go now.”

The gap between your bodies slowly got larger, as you no longer felt the heat radiating from him. It felt dull and cold, and you knew that you would only feel like that from now on.

You watched him leave once again as you stayed behind helplessly. You absolutely hated that part of yourself. Never finding the right words or right actions to take. That’s why you immediately rushed to Satoru’s room, holding back your tears, as you softly knocked a few times on the oak door.

You heard footsteps approach from inside, as he opened the door with confusion ridden on his face. You didn’t even wait to enter as you flung yourself onto him, locking him in in a feverish kiss. You had to mend your feelings for Suguru somehow, or express them through your classmate Satoru, who didn’t deny your advances.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #getou suguru x you #geto suguru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru

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jabbage · 11 months

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I keep seeing a post floating around from an aspec person saying how they'd been made to feel monstrous and broken and wrong.

I went through those feelings in my teens and twenties and had some really dark times. I think that society gives us such limited views of what happiness and success look like, and it can be crushing. If you're someone who knows you're not going to pair off or get married or have kids, it's hard to know what a happy domesticity looks like?

I'm in my early 30s now, and I'm so contented with my life. I thought I'd share a little, in case it gives anyone a bit of hope to see one form a happy life can take which isn't perhaps the mainstream?

I wake up to find my little cat purring on my chest, and I give her a cuddle.

I get dressed in a new suit I've brought. I realised recently that off-the-shelf clothes never fit me right, so I've been saving up money to have them adjusted at a tailor. It fits perfectly now and I feel great in it. It's taken a while, but I feel like I've finally nailed a style for myself.

I walk to work, through the park so I can admire the flowers. This takes longer, but it gives me some exercise and I enjoy having the time to think. I stop off at a shop on the way and get some nice sandwiches, my favourite kind of pastry and a drink. Normally I make a pack lunch, but this is my weekly Tuesday Treat.

I have a morning meeting with some of my coworkers, who I feel value me and my work. Personal organisation in my worklife has been a struggle for me, but recently I realised I'm one of those folks who probably has ADHD and wasn't caught by the system. Just knowing this has given me so many new tools which are designed for the way by brain works, and I feel so much more confidant.

For the rest of the day instead of staying in my office I work on a picnic table in the sunshine, occasionally stopping to watch some skateboarders. At lunchtime I eat the food I bought, and I chec discord and catch up with online shenanigans. I enjoy having friendships I've forged with people across the world. I love to visit people and to travel, and my independent lifestyle gives me chance to do that. I also like having people over to stay. I like to say I'm like Bilbo Baggins, I live along in my little hobbit hole but if you come round I'll cook you an elaborate dinner and put you up for the night.

After work I go on a free guided history walk around my local area, and find out about lots of little historical things of interest I hadn't seen before. I also meet new people. Even if I never see them again, it's nice to have that moment of connection. When I get home, I video call with my parents and we share our news with each other.

I cook a quick dinner - these days I don't put pressure on myself to do anything too elaborate. I figure if frozen chopped onion and ready meals help me to eat moderately well and keep healthy, I'll use them. I have some cream which needs using, so eat it with some absolutely monstrous strawberries.

I check my personal emails with my cat purring away on my lap. I've got a little side gig writing and illustrating. I worry that I'm not very good and It doesn't make me much money and I know I'll never be famous (do I even want to be?!), but I do enjoy it. Sometimes I'm confronted with a pile of rejections which can hurt, but it's all good stuff today: the money from a book I worked on came in. There are some more details about a talk I'm giving at the British Library later this year. My agent is sending some possible opportunities my way.

I still have a few hours before bed, so I work on a creative project for a bit. Not something I'm being paid for today: it's a personal craft project. I realised a while ago I have a bad habit of monetising everything, so now I make sure to set aside time in the week to work on things that will be presents for myself or friends.

And then when it gets to about 11, I snuggle under the covers and read PG Wodehouse. I giggle. A lot.

It's been a hard slog, but I suddenly find that I'm a very happy person. There's no partner-shaped or child-shaped hole in my life. I'm content. Every life has highs and lows of course, some days are better than others. I'm sure I'll have many troubles to face in the future, but I consider my asexuality to be a positive and joyful facet of my life.

#asexual #asexuality #aroace #aromantic #aromanticism

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meshlasolus · 2 years

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House Of Memories (44/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: a lil angst, mostly fluff, again, mace windu

Summary: Still trapped alongside Mace Windu, you figure out a method of escape, but time is running out, along with the oxygen.

A/n: hey everyone, guess who's super excited bc she finally cut and dyed the fabric for the padme lake dress? MEEEE!!! anyway, enjoy this, it was a product of a case of mountain dew... yes you read that correctly, a case. (i'm adhd so it actually calms me and helps me focus lol)

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 2.4k

The oxygen levels were depleting, as in this room, with the doors tightly sealed, and a limited amount of airflow from the broken venting system, there wasn't enough breathable air for both you and Master Windu.

You'd suggested to him that perhaps you could try crawling back through the vent to the original entrance, hoping that maybe there would be some progress made, but he explained to you that, 'if there wasn't enough air in the vent to circulate in this small room, then there sure as hell wouldn't be any to last you both through the entire crawl space, and you'd both suffocate to death in a vent.'

You almost laughed at that comment, but your air supply was limited, so you figured you better not waste it so frivolously.

"Do you think they know where we are?" You asked, leaning your head against the wall to elongate your breathing, as if it would help with the lack of oxygen.

"If they knew, we'd be out of here by now, but if I know Master Kenobi, and I do, he's probably sent out every squadron he has to look for you," he narrowed his gaze at you, and it was only now that you felt he might know more about you and Obi-Wan then he will admit or let on to.

"As if I'm the only person of importance in this situation," you replied sarcastically to him, and though he was used to your snarky attitude by now, he found himself not minding it so much anymore. He'd seen a different side to you, the good, and honest, and reliable side of you.

"The only one of importance to him. You always have been," he breathed out, rolling his eyes and moving his head to the side to emphasize that. "Ever since you came to the temple, you've had him wrapped around your finger, you just didn't know it."

"Even if that's true, you're still of great importance to him. I believe that after Master Qui Gon was killed, he began to look up to you as a mentor," you'd seen him, even at your age, and watched the way he acted around Mace Windu. It was the same way he would act around his former Master, and it sometimes hurt you to remember that he'd lost his only father figure and was trying desperately to find a new one. You'd never had that problem, because you lacked a father your entire life, it wasn't like you knew what you were missing out on. You didn't know any better. If you had to pick someone, you might say that Master Yoda had shown you the most kindness and fatherly guidance in your time as a youngling than you had received otherwise.

"That's strange to hear, coming from you," he crossed his arms, intrigued, but also a bit shocked. Here you were, already forgiven him for all of the things the council has ever done against you because of his influence, and you were talking as if no bad blood was kept between you. You were easy to forgive, because keeping a grudge, and keeping the anger from a past dispute was against the Jedi way. You were a firm believer of the first lesson you ever learned as Jedi, which was to let go.

"It's the truth," you shrugged your shoulders. He seemed to be pleased with that bit of information and stored it away for another time. "I know that when they find us, he'll be equally as happy to see you as he is to see me."

"If, they find us..."

"When," you corrected him. Obi-Wan's lessons had helped you immensely in only the last twenty-four hours. His training was flowing through you consistently at all times, but even now, it was more pronounced in every action. Do not focus on the negative.

He gave you a look that told you that you were being impractical, but really, he was holding on to just as much hope as you were that they were going to come, because this was not his ideal or preferred way of death.

"I'm going to try and reach him again," you said, with optimism lacing your features. He waved his hand as if to say 'go ahead, knock yourself out.'

You let your eyes flutter closed and straightened your seated position. A Jedi's Posture was to be held when meditating in any form.

You branched out your signature to all living things around you, trying to locate his being on this maker-forsaken planet. You felt the grass that grew through the dirt, and the trees that covered the mountains. You could even sync yourself with the worms and other small creatures hidden within the soils of this richly earthed planet.

You could feel the force in every living being, and once you finally found the presence you were searching for, you stopped, exhaling a short breath, as all the breaths you took now were unable to be deeply inhaled. You let your signature wrap around him and hoped he would no longer be too preoccupied to grab ahold of it. He had either been speaking to someone the last time you attempted, or he was busy on using his force abilities, unable to focus enough to let you in.

Thankfully, he quickly synced it with his own, letting your minds become a way of communication.

'Obi,' you tested your connection, hoping he could hear your voice echoing in his head.

'My love, where are you?' he was fast to respond with his question, and you didn't hesitate to let him know exactly where he could find you.

'In a room by the ventilation shaft,' was not a good enough response apparently, because his next thought spilled into your mind, which was that they'd been looking for said ventilation shaft and could not seem to find it, as it was likely buried beneath the rubble. 'Can you feel me?'

'Yes,' he knew what your meaning was, but waited for your direction anyway.

'Follow that feeling, I'll lead you to us.'

Without breaking contact over the bond, he was able to summon some troopers, telling them to come in the direction he was headed. Anakin noticed their leave and decided that Obi-Wan had probably been able to connect with you and find out your location, so he advised his own troops to follow along with the others, and he would catch up soon.

You'd been mediating for a while now, and Mace had wondered if you were still trying, or if you'd failed to reach out to him. Little did he know that your extended signature was like a beacon, lighting the pathway to your rescue.

He watched on with great curiosity, wondering how you were able to stay so optimistic in a situation such as this. It seemed impossible for anyone to be so hopeful while trapped in a room where soon neither of you would be able to breathe. He hated to admit it, but from his point of view, things were looking very grim. He'd even though once or twice already that this could be the day that he dies. He's lived a long while, and supposed it wouldn't be so horrible, but his ideal death would be something meaningful, a sacrifice of some kind. Perhaps he'd wish to take on a worthy opponent, and fall only because it was to save another life. He would have been fine to have known that all the other Jedi escaped off this planet because he held the droids off long enough, but then you came and attempted to save him. You'd succeeded halfway, but even still, you were trapped along with him, and he felt guilty for it.

"Padawan, if we don't make it out of here, I-"

"Shh," you said aloud, keeping your brain focused, your eyes remaining closed, and the force signature surrounding you staying strongly intact.

"Excuse me?" he said in a sassy tone, because honestly, he couldn't believe that you'd just shushed him, in this dire situation, you just shushed him, the ex-Grand Master of the council.

"I need to concentrate."

He figured that much, but given that every breath he took was shallow, he imagined you'd be giving up soon for lack of air to meditate on. Breathing was essential to the act, and he knew you couldn't be better off than he was, as you were taking in far more air than he did.

"I don't think there's any point in continuing your attempt, they haven-"

"I'm guiding him," you said shortly, never breaking your intense hold on the focus you'd built. Obi-Wan was the center, and everything else was in the peripheral.

Master Windu was surprised to hear it, but having now the words of confirmation, his hope was reignited. He couldn't help but think though, there isn't enough oxygen to last much longer, and should you pass out from lack of air, this guidance you were giving would subside, and you both would die here, more than six feet under.

"They're close," you informed him, your face never breaking or showing emotion. Everything was clear and even about your expression, complete serenity, basking in the presence of another. He couldn't help but wonder what it should feel like to have a friend and mentor that a connection like this was possible. You were meditating on him- however unconventional that sounded- and it was working.

Above his head, he could hear the faint sound of drills, and he looked to the cavern like ceiling to see the dirt begin to fall from it. He stood up, ready to be out of this place, and supposed you would be to, but when he glanced over at you, you had indeed passed out, from lack of air and major use of the force. He moved over to your side of the room and tried his best to cover you from falling debris, and once there was a hole, big enough to let in the light of the setting sun, he breathed in deeply, feeling the air begin to infiltrate the room once again.

A rope was dropped, and low and behold, Commander Cody slid down it, ready to help them out. "General, I've got them."

Mace bent down, however in a delicate state he still was, and scooped you from the ground, knowing it would be harder to wake you from a weakness induced slumber. He turned around to see a ladder being lowered into the newly formed pit, and figured he should probably let Cody help him carry you, as he was still feeble from lack of fresh air all this time.

Going up the ladder, he could see the light of day, and from the length of the ladder to the surface, he could see that all this time you'd both been about seven feet below the ground. Perhaps if he'd known that, he would have tried a more upward escape. He climbed out the top and was met with the worried face of Master Kenobi. He nodded to him, and turned back to see that Cody had you, safely nestled against him.

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, but a moment later, he was beginning to let fear arise in him for a whole other reason. He took you from Cody immediately, kneeling down and holding you in his arms, inspecting every little part of you to see what the trouble was, and why you were unconscious.

"She needs an oxygen tank," Mace told him, loud enough for the medical team to hear him, and rush off in the direction of the supplies to obtain it for you.

Master Windu, as strange as it sounded, watched the scene unfold before him with great sympathy. Attachments were forbidden amongst the Jedi, and yet, there you both sat, and as he'd learned today, you were both more capable because of your attachment then you would have been without it. He could see the care your Master had for you, worn on his face as he looked upon you, concerned for your well-being. He didn't even know the full extent of things between you, but he could tell the bond you had was strong, and great power was in it.

"I have seen great things from your Padawan today. Strength, courage, wisdom, and overall, perseverance," he said, and Obi-Wan lifted his head to face him when he heard this. He was shocked, to say the least. He knew, of course, that having spent that long in an enclosed space, he might get to see a different side of you, the real side of you, but never did he imagine his old friend would change his opinion so quickly. He was always so set in his ways, determined to keep things traditional at all times, and you were by no means traditional, but you were a true Jedi, and now he could see that.

"These qualities have been in her a long time," he agreed, hoping that there was not an upcoming 'but' to follow in Mace's words.

"I understand that. It is my belief that she is now ready for the trials."

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide, and he couldn't help the smile that come across his face. He'd known you were ready for a long time now, but through your dedication and patience, it was now that the opposing forces would grant you the opportunity.

"As soon as there is a lull in the war, she will take them under your guidance," and with this, Mace Windu concluded his speech, standing, and leaving with a small bow. Obi-Wan ducked his head in a show of reverence before he was gone. He smiled from ear to ear, his pride showing through the massive grin he wore.

He leaned down and kissed your head, and when he pulled away, he noticed your eyes beginning to blink open slowly. You smiled right back at him as soon as your vision allowed for clear sight, and his heart started pounding in his chest.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," you whispered, your lungs not strong enough to support your words yet. He was still waiting on the medic team to bring you that oxygen tank, but given that the station was further away from here, he had to make sure you didn't tire yourself out too much.

"And I you... Rest your voice, little one. We'll talk later, alright?"

You nodded the best you could against his arm, and leaned into it, letting your eyes close once more.

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

#obi wan x padawan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #ewan mcgregor #hayden christensen #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan fanart #obi wan smut #kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan x oc #obi wan angst #obi wan fluff

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roguelemon · 9 months

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Iiiiits metaphor time!!!

So, it's been shown a few times that Crowley and Aziraphale are opposite but similar, different sides of the same coin, ect, etc.

One very important metaphor for this is the yin/yang. Its been mentioned in interviews multiple times and I think its very true "little bit of a nice person"/"just enough of a bastard" fit this SO well.

But those lines are s1, they fit together because they both represent one side and everything is balanced. They fit together, they dine at the Ritz.

In season 2 however, they don't. At all. Aziraphale makes a point to do more "good deeds" even if they arnet in line with heaven. The whole "very good at forgiveness" and him being visibly upset in the Edinburgh minisode where there are no solid lines to be drawn for morality indicate a bit of negative development on his part. Perhaps the fact that he no longer reports to heaven makes him feel like he has to do more good to make up for it. Hence why Az gets defensive about telling Crowley the good things he's done in the coffee shop scene.

I mean, he was almost about to get Crowley to kill a child in s1, his ability to bastard has decreased.

On the opposing side, Crowley is better this season. Infact I'd say he isn't good or bad. Bad for heaven sure but he is just entirely indifferent to the humans for the most part.

At least that's what I thought until I rewatched it. It's in the way he let's Maggie and nine out of the shop without hesitation, even when he could be mischievous. Its in the way he guides the shopowners out the bookshop trying desperately to stop people getting hurt. Hell, even in the minisodes (ESPECIALLY THE EDINBURGH ONE) he's just floating somewhere between chaotic neutral and chaotic good. (Possibly even neutral good).

While he does also do good in s1, he denies it much more strongly, so perhaps being distanced from hell has allowed crowley to just, do whatever he wants (which just so happens to be good).

There is a point here, let's get back to it.

So, using the colours black and white as in the yin/yang symbol. They both get more white. Obviously, this causes an imbalance. I reckon, crowley pretty much becomes his own symbol, having equal good and bad in him (lets be honest, the "bad" is just him beign a silly little guy). Now I'm deffinetly not saying he doesn't need Az at all, only that he functions as moraly independent. His biggest flaw is that he wants to get away from things instead of fixing them, probably becaue3 he's to scared to try.

Az on the other hand, still refuses he can be bad at all. He's an antihero at worst, doing bad things for perfectly good reason, (hiding Gabriel to PROTECT him). Its this inability to compromise that eventually leads to him blurring the lines between actual good and heaven good, causing him to be delusional and fall back into his old way of thinking at the end.

Pair this with the whole "they want the same thing but are going about it in diff ways", "they don't talk", ect.

They are no longer the yin and yang, they no longer fit together as a pair because Crowley is trying to make himself whole and Az is either ignoring the problem altogether, or trying to be only good. He is trying to have a calm life on earth without letting go of the divine good of heaven and its just not going to work.

I have a feeling that next season Crowley is going to be shifting between emotional and nilhistic (just because he's more moraly stable doesn't mean he is emotionally, bless). Az is going to have to struggle with trying to fix a system that is broken in the name of the one leading the system (god). HOPEFULLY these cause them both to reevaluate their flaws (crowleys running away, Az with his inability to do so) and just erase the moral obligations altogether.

#good omens 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens #go2 #i heard michael sheen mention this once in an interview and proceeded to DIG #their vibes are off your honour #this makes so little sense on its own but when you pair it with other analysis its somewhat cohesive #im not crazy (i promise)#ineffable divorce #ineffable divorcees

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pavi-kinnie · 9 months

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This is a theory I have been working on for a bit, feel free to use it in a fanfiction or art if you want :)

What if Laura Victoriano never died?

Logically, I am aware that Laura’s death is the driving point of the series, without her death most of the events of the franchise would never have happened, but what if Laura never died at all?

Now what we know about Laura’s death is incredibly vague. We know she was left in a coma after the fire, and was likely in the care of either Marcelo or Valerio, since Valerio ran the hospice in Elk River and Marcelo was involved with Beacon, both were heavy in the medical field. Now there is never a single document found in the game that shows proof that Laura died. We have the newspaper that mentions that Laura and Ruben survived the fire, although Laura was in a coma, and we know that Ernesto told Ruben that Laura died. Overall, that’s not any kind of proof about her death. Ruben himself believes it to be true because he knows they were both horrifically injured during the fire, so he never digs any deeper.

My theory is that Laura did not die, and is likely either still in the coma or awake and kept away from her brother. With the Jimenez brothers’ involvement with not only Ruben and Laura’s care but also Mobius, it’s not a complete stretch to say that Mobius may have been involved. In the canon timeline Marcelo met Ruben in 1984 and already saw how intelligent Ruben was. The fire happened in 1985, so Marcelo met Ruben prior to the fire. Given how intelligent we know Ruben to be, even though he would have only been around 9 at the time he met Marcelo, it’s highly likely that Marcelo told people in Mobius about Ruben’s intelligence. Perhaps after the fire happened and Laura was left in a coma, Mobius saw this as an opportunity to shape Ruben into what they wanted him to be. Mobius wanted Ruben to work for them, and wanted him to be completely obedient to their every command. What better way than to use the one person Ruben cares about? Mobius could have transferred her to one of their facilities and faked Laura’s death, waiting for the moment they might need to use her to blackmail Ruben. Now Ruben stayed mostly in Mobius’ good graces until the STEM project was almost complete. We know canonically that Mobius had much different intentions for the STEM system than Ruben did, and when Ruben would not comply they wanted to get rid of him. Laura may not have been used as blackmail at this time for a specific reason: If they were trying to convince Ruben to adapt the STEM project into what they wanted, using Laura against him would only make the situation worse. Ruben was building STEM to be able to reunite with his sister, and revealing that she was alive, even for blackmail purposes, would only motivate Ruben to drop the project altogether. As influential as Laura would be against Ruben, she would only make the situation worse.

This would also explain Laura’s weird manifestation within the STEM system. The monster version of Laura that we fight against in the game is a creature born from Ruben’s mind, that symbolizes his vengeance. This monster takes the appearance of Laura because he wants vengeance against the people who hurt him and his sister. This makes sense that it’s a figment of Ruben’s twisted mind, because it wouldn’t make sense for her to appear in this form. But in the first DLC The Assignment, there’s the Laura easter egg with the two broken doors. In this easter egg where we play as Kidman, we see this version of Laura to resemble how she looked before the fire. This would not make sense at first, as we know that monster Laura is a figment of Ruben’s imagination. Furthermore, if he did manage to bring a non-corrupted version of Laura into the system, he would immediately look for her and try to find a way for both of them to escape the STEM system. But what if this version of Laura we see in the DLC is the real Laura? If we work under the previous assumption that Mobius would take Laura as a way to potentially blackmail Ruben, it would make sense to keep her at Beacon where he worked. She would be nearby if they needed to blackmail him, and knowing how close she was to him could motivate him to do what they wanted. Everyone in Beacon was pulled into STEM when Mobius turned the system on, so if Laura was inside Beacon, she would be pulled in with it. As to why Laura resembled how she looked before the fire, it is possible that if she was still in the coma, her mind would take the form of what it last remembered her to look like. Since Laura would have still been in the coma she had no way to know what she looked like post-fire, and so she would take the form of what she looked like before the fire. Therefore, the easter egg may be more than just something the developers put in for fun, as it could be the real Laura if we can prove that she is alive. Ruben would not have been aware of this version of Laura in STEM, because he believes her to be dead, and if he did see her he would likely think she was just a hallucination, as we know after he was told she died he suffered from hallucinations of her for a time.

Laura’s status as potentially being alive could also serve as a future plot point if another game is ever made in the series. The end of the first game highly suggests that Ruben was successful in escaping STEM inside of Leslie, due to Sebastian seeing that Leslie acts completely unlike himself as he leaves Beacon before Leslie completely disappears. If Ruben managed to make it out through Leslie, he likely would have been captured again by Mobius, and this time they could use Laura to blackmail him, perhaps into working on STEM again. Ruben could have secretly helped with Union, and if a third game is ever made, Ruben and Laura could play a vital role in it.

Once again, feel free to use this idea for any work (fanfiction, art, etc.) if this inspires you, just please tag me in it if you do, I would love to see it!

#The Evil Within #laura victoriano #ruben victoriano #ruvik #theory

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password-door-lock · 7 months

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Mystictober Day 4-- Royal/Rebel

Maybe it's a weird way to think about a scruffy-looking stranger crashing into your apartment, boots first, through the window, but as far as you're concerned, your prince has come to rescue you. After all, Rika’s apartment may as well be an enchanted tower, and you may as well be an imprisoned royal heir straight out of a fairy tale, for the fact that you are stuck here alone. Anyway, the hacker isn’t really any more of a stranger than the members of the RFA , though he, at least, seems to want to get you out of here. That’s good enough for you.

Besides, you haven't been getting very much out of your guest coordination experience thus far— you feel a bit awkward talking to the RFA, so you've barely even used the messenger, only scrolling through the chat rooms once or twice a day to gather the contact information for potential guests. You're willing to send out invitations, but you have no interest in anything beyond a working relationship with the other members of the organization. Unfortunately for you, many of them strike you as being interested in something... more. You can't help but feel a bit trapped, waiting patiently to be rescued by the first person to get the better of the fire-breathing dragon— or, in this case, the bomb, but same difference— that guards you.

Well, here's your hero, then. He doesn't bother stepping over the shards of broken glass from the window he just tore through; instead, they crunch under the soles of his heavy boots as he crosses the room to reach you. "Stay where you are, okay?" His voice is smooth, even and measured, like he body-slams shatter-proof glass every day and has no reason to be at all shaken by the events of the past fifteen seconds. "You might hurt yourself if you step on glass."

He's got a point— you’re wearing no footwear more protective than a pair of fluffy slipper-socks. You bite your lip, nervous despite the relief you feel at the prospect of escape. You haven't so much as felt fresh air against your skin since the special security system was hacked three days ago, and the night breeze seeping through the gaping hole in the window is providing a very pleasant change of pace. "Who are you?" You already know, of course, but it's all that you can think of to say.

"I'm your knight in shining armor, prince(ss). I'm here to rescue you from your boring task," he cackles, making the threat that he poses abundantly clear. You would have to be a fool to actually go anywhere with this man, even if he seems more interesting than the members of the RFA. But, then again, you would also have to be a fool to break into a stranger’s apartment at the behest of a complete stranger, so perhaps your track record is working against you. "I thought you would have fun talking to those people, but you’ve barely even looked at the messenger. You must really hate it here— but I didn’t expect you to get bored of them so soon." He doesn't sound particularly apologetic. If anything, he sounds mildly amused by your refusal to be predictable, like you're a puzzle that he's looking forward to solving.

He's reached you by now; the hacker is close enough to see that you're shaking like a leaf. As much as you'd love to ask him why he thought you would cooperate in the first place, there are much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. "Somebody from the RFA will be here soon," you inform him. You're sure of it— they won't let you get away so easily. One of them will come, convinced that you need to be rescued, without bothering to ask for your opinion. They may mean well, but none of them seem to have considered your feelings, being lured into a strange, demanding organization in the middle of a work week— not that the hacker is any different. He has yet to ask you if you want to leave with him, although you suppose you could have refused to even humor his request when he sent you to the apartment in the first place. It's clear to you that you're nothing more than a pawn to the hacker; he is using you as a means to whatever end he desires, the same way that V and his followers are using you as an excuse to host a party. That being said, you have no interest in watching a battle between the hacker and the RFA unfold. When push comes to shove, you’d rather make the decision for yourself.

The hacker, for his part, seems to agree with your assessment of the situation. "You're sharper than I thought," he decides, appraising you with glimmering eyes. "Do you already know what’s going to happen? If you’re so excited to leave this place, then you and I must be a little bit similar... I think we'll have fun together." He reaches out, and his meaning is clear— maybe he's only giving you the illusion of choice, but it's your call whether you'll stay loyal to the RFA or transfer your allegiance to him, at least for the time being.

"We should probably get going." You've made your choice. Anything is better than staying in this stuffy apartment, even jumping out the window with someone you just met.

"Let's go, then, prince(ss)." The hacker smirks. This is all a game for him, but you don't care half as much as you probably should.

You could kiss him for how relieved you are to get out of Rika's apartment— to your surprise, he doesn't lead you to the window when you take his hand, but across the room to the door. He did say that he didn't want you stepping on glass— maybe he cares about your safety, or perhaps he only wants your loyalty. "Thanks for saving me." You give his hand a little squeeze in a vain attempt to demonstrate your gratitude.

"Of course." The hacker sounds amused as he walks you to the elevator. "You were already mine from the beginning, anyway."

"If you say so," you shrug. As far as you're concerned, anything is better than being trapped in this small suite, inviting strangers to a party about which you could not care less. It doesn't even occur to you that you might be trading one locked door for another, a picture window for a wall of glowing monitors.

#we love a bad ending #this month will probably be full of those lol #MM_mystictober2023 #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble

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ghastlybespoke · 1 year

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casualtyyyyy!!!

dylan and max friendship arc??

is the show kinda implying something between supriya and dylan, who man who canonically hates the police?

jacob's clearly not coping well :( hopefully he can forgive himself* and heal from this

*even tho it wasn't necessarily or entirely his fault

why does this episode have so much faith in it?

nauuur stop giving dylan potential love interests who are already married i hate this show. also they pretty much had him say in the past (although not so outright as far as I'm aware) that he hates the police?? if you're going to give this man a love interest please at least let it be someone who's not already in a romantic relationship unless they're polyam, and someone he's compatible with!!

this is a major blow to the dylan and max friendship arc

faith took those diazapam? bro what??

a mention of omo! but i wasn't aware she'd died? all i've seen of her is a bit of the storyline where blake seeks her out :(

jacob leaving as well was something i wasn't expecting but perhaps should have done, knowing that donna's going to be nurse manager from the casualty insta post,, although with the 'gotcha haha, just kidding 👉' and all the other stuff that the show's been pulling, idk whether to believe if he's actually gone or not

that felt like quite a quick end to the carehome abuse storyline - im glad that he can't hurt anyone anymore, but also for all the time they spent building it up, there's no justice for anyone (although the justice system is broken so there might not have been, but that's a topic for a post other than this)

on a slightly lighter note it's really funny to me on this show when a character appears for all of 2 seconds for basically no reason other than just to remind people they're there (stevie in this episode for instance)

#bbc casualty #live blog #tw abuse mention

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k-s-morgan · 2 years

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Why were Will and Francis so jealous of each other? The comments calling the other person ugly (and impotent lol) come to mind. Was it because Hannibal played them against one another so effectively or because they were both infatuated with him? It feels like they “respected” him as the apex predator and also as the only other person to know their true natures, but they weren’t willing to share. (Also I am sorry about your grandmother, I hope you and your family are doing okay considering ❤️)

Thank you so much <3 And yes, I think you got this right. Both Francis and Will were jealous of one another, and they were both infatuated with Hannibal in various ways and to differing degrees. To Francis, Hannibal was an idol. To Will, Hannibal was an annoying shit, but one he invested too much into to let go.

Francis

I actually have a separate post about it somewhere, but Tumblr’s search system is terrible sometimes, so I’ll just copy what I have in my drafts.

Francis apparently had such an overwhelming interest in Hannibal that it was even sexual. From his notes made for the show, this particular bit (transcribed by Bentley):

“I think we are so similar and could be the best partners that history could have seen. Let me show you what we could do together doctor. I am so eager to please you to be your friend your lover perhaps. Why not I think we could love each other doctor. Don’t you want to have someone that is the one in your life. That special someone that is always here for you. It is me doctor? I am!”

Bentley transcribed other parts of the text, too, which seem to be referring to Will. Here’s an interesting part:

“He faces you, he traps you but in the end he is broken! Do you think he understands you? Do you think he really appreciates your magical power? Does he realize how special and unique and wonderful you are doctor. I have my doubts, I don’t think he really sings the wonder, the salvation that can come from following you, knowing you. ”

That’s extremely interesting because it gives a much deeper insight into Francis and his motivations. For one thing, one of the phrases that always bothered me in the show is his description of Will - namely, the mention that he’s “not very handsome”. It’s from the books, so it might apply there, but Will in the show is handsome, very much so. Francis seems to resent him.

Then, he gets hurt and believes that Hannibal betrayed him after the aborted phone call. But what was it that bothered him so? Hannibal did warn him on time and he wasn’t caught, he didn’t reveal his identity. However, after that, Francis talks about betrayal and stages the performance with Chilton that mirrors what Will did to Freddie. The burning ‘Freddie in a wheelchair’ is a symbol of betrayal that connects Will and Hannibal. Francis must have a particular reason to repeat it so literally. He knows about their history, he probably reads between the lines, too. So why he did get so angry now, to the point of wanting to kill Hannibal and recreating a scene from Hannibal and Will’s past?

My theory is, Francis believed that Hannibal is no longer interested in Will and is focused on him instead. He read the article about Will visiting Hannibal for 'consultation’ on his case and believed that Hannibal sent him away. After this, he calls Hannibal for the first time and tells him, “I’m delighted that you have taken an interest in me … I don’t think you’d reveal my identity even if you knew it.” But after Hannibal showed that he’s still associating with the FBI, one way or another (via the phone call), Francis must have realized Hannibal is playing with him, and that it’s Will who might be his end game. He must recall that Will stumbled upon him in the museum, that Hannibal urged him to attack Will’s family, and he connects the dotes, realizing that Will is the central player while he, Francis, is a pawn. He might have been conflicted about Will’s role all this time, hence his notes, but the phone call became the last straw. Hence 'betrayal’ symbol and talks of how Hannibal betrayed him while he just “wanted to share”.

It also explains Francis’ changing attitude to Will. He touched his photo once at the start, which denotes his interest. He threw him away like a toy in the museum, and while it’s just an interpretation, to me, he looked pissed at Will in particular. When he tells Hannibal later that Will interests him, it can’t be just from their museum encounter. Francis clearly knows a lot about Will (likely from Freddie’s articles), but he doesn’t like him because he thinks him unworthy of Hannibal, which his notes prove. But in TWOTL, Francis is very unsure about Will, when he attacks him at the motel. He is no longer certain what to think of him (since he thinks Hannibal has chosen him). He automatically treats him with some sort of respect because of who he is to Hannibal and what he must represent.

Notably, this respect turned into fury in the finale, where he attacked Will quite viciously. Interesting that he went to ruin his face first and foremost. Considering his own insecurity, it says a lot about his many-layered jealousy, from deep to superficial physical level.

Will

Will, unlike Francis, has a long history with Hannibal. He sees himself as someone who has a right to Hannibal after everything they’ve been through, and he hates the thought of not being special or even a sole object of his obsession. This explains Will’s reactions to Randall, Bedelia, and Francis.

An interesting conversation happens in S3 after the attack on Molly and Walter. Will came to yell at Hannibal for targeting them, then promptly forgot about them and got jealous of Hannibal’s interest toward Francis.

Hannibal: Before he became the Red Dragon, this shy boy would not have dared any of this.

Will: Now he thinks he can do anything. Anything. Anything (he's so emotional here, he's nearly shaking).

Hannibal: Fear brushes the walls of your chest, circling inside you like a bat in a house. Get hold of it.

Will: The Dragon's gotten hold of his.

So resentful.

Hannibal: The Dragon likely thinks you're as much a monster as you think he is.

Will: Is this a competition?

He sounds very pissed here, and my opinion is that he came to be angry about Molly but ended up being angry about Francis being more daring and impressing Hannibal. There is definitely some murder jealousy happening. Will sets up Chilton right after this - in my opinion, partly to show that he can do anything, too.

So the jealousy is both ‘professional’ and personal. Both Francis and Will crave Hannibal’s attention and admiration, but alas, only one of them actually holds them.

#hannibal #will graham #francis dolarhyde #hannigram #meta

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 9 months

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They Don't Even Deserve to Celebrate - Gil Grissom Self-therapy fic

(A/N: I've been writing this since father's day, but haven't had the spoons to finish til now... The parts are just, broken, short {like me}, because I didn't really want to dwell on it. I wanted to get it out of my system as quickly as possible. For those of you who are 18 years old and elder, there is a comfort sex version of this fic

Remember - only read it if you're 18 or older.

Warnings for this fic - child abuse and violence, and self-loathing. Also mention of sex, no description.

To clarify, I did not actually get hit, but I was threatened, and feared that my abuser would go through with the threats.)

"Do you want to come with me for Mother's Day?" Gil asked me as we were lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. We had skipped a night shift, and then worked a morning and afternoon shift to make up for it, so we could sleep through that night and wake up on Mother's Day.

Gil asked me this same question every year, always giving me the option of a way out of spending time with my parents in favour of doing something that would be actually pleasant for me. But, like every year, my response was the same. I put my arm over my eyes and groaned, "Ugh, you know my parents will drag me to be with them."

And I knew he understood. He nuzzled my cheek to comfort me. "I wish you all the best. You can talk to me when you get home okay? You can text or call when you need to. Or even come to my mother's house if you need an early escape." I nodded, taking in all these reminders for my survival. Needing his comfort and reassurance to last on me for the duration of my ordeal, I kissed him and hid myself in him; he happily obliged and encased me in his arms protectively.

We got ready to go and waited for each other to get out the front door at the same time. With one last parting kiss while holding hands, and a reminder from Gil to blast music I loved during my drive, we said our goodbyes and went to our cars. I connected my phone to my car's Bluetooth and put the Linkin Park Complete Playlist on shuffle, starting with Given Up because boy did I have to scream. When I got to my parents' house, I sat in the car and let the last song finish playing. I sighed shakily as I turned off my music, dreading what was to come in the immediate future. But, the quicker I started it, the sooner it would end, so I went to the front door and rang the bell. When my mother opened it, she greeted me with the love she thought she felt for me; I did not even bother to fake a smile. Our embrace was cold, stiff, as every bit as hateful I remembered it to be because I felt the love die out of it a long time ago.

I was not in a good mood and not really watching what I was saying. Nor was I keeping track of what my parents were thinking and feeling because I could not be bothered, so it was a great shock to me when my father yelled out with all the rage and venom he felt towards me and brought his arm across my face. "Fuck," I hissed, holding where it hurt. I did not know whether my tears were from how I felt or because he had hit my glasses and forced them into my face. Not hesitating a second longer, I shot up out of my seat and ran away, yanking the front door open and running to my car. I was used to driving in the dark; I could drive with obscured vision in the middle of the day. It was only when my tears were filling up the space between my glasses and my face that I even remembered to pull them off so that they were not pressed so tight. But I gave them a quick pass over my shirt to dry them before putting them on again, then harshly scrubbed the back of my hand over my eyes to dry my tears, not caring that it hurt because I did not care about myself.

Or, perhaps that was not true. Not entirely at least. For I was not driving aimlessly nor recklessly. I was driving to the place where I knew I was guaranteed safety and comfort and love - a home away from home. I had barely pulled up at Betty's house when Gil opened the door and ran towards me (Betty waited in the doorway). I opened the door and slid myself out - fuck, had I forgotten to put on my seatbelt? - and gingerly put my weight on the ground. "Hey (y/n)- what did that bastard do to you?" The change of his tone from concern to quiet anger was immediate. How did he know what happened? He answered my unasked question when he carefully touched his hand to my face, and I winced and flinched away; for fuck's sake, I had gotten a bruise where his elbow had hit my temple. Yet, despite his anger, Gil remained gentle. Always. He put his arm around me and guided me into the house, closing the car door and taking the key from me to lock it. He also took my glasses off and hung them on the collar of his shirt.

When Betty saw my condition, her eyes and jaw widened slightly in shock. "What happened?"

I signed back, "My father hit me."

"Don't call him your father," she said before ushering us to the sitting room.

"Yeah well...what else am I supposed to call him," I murmured for Gil to hear, who laughed through his nose and kissed my head, avoiding where I had gotten hit. He sat me down on a couch and put my glasses on the coffee table. Then, he held me so I felt safe, kissing me periodically, while we waited for his mother to come back. I kept inhaling his scent, for it was the only thing sustaining me, and the only medicine to my pain.

Betty returned with a handkerchief wrapped around some ice. She held it to my left eye where the bruising was the most severe and Gil took over from her. She picked up my glasses and took them with her, presumably to clean them. "I'm sorry this happened to you," Gilbert said quietly.

I sighed and shook my head, my eyes closing in sadness. "It's not your fault Gil."

"I mean, I'm sorry you have to deal with this. No child should be hurt by the ones supposed to care for them..."

"Yeah well, my father believes that people deserve to be hurt if it means that'll discipline 'em," I said forlornly. I heard Gil let out a displeased, angry sound.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I wish I could have helped you much earlier on in life, or even prevented everything that happened from...happening." We both knew that was unrealistic, but I understood he wanted to express that he wished he could have always protected me and been there for me, and I was touched by that.

I put a hand on his chest and said, "It's impossible; you know that well as I do. What matters is that you're here now, and I couldn't be more grateful." He responded silently by tenderly kissing my forehead.

We heard Betty's footsteps and turned to see her with my glasses as well as a mug. She set both items down on the table, then explained, "Warm water. Drinking it helps with the headache."

"Thanks," I signed.

"You are most welcome." She left again.

Gil reached for the mug and put it to my lips. Even though I tried to take it into my hands, he insisted on holding it for me (precious angel). I carefully drank a sip and found it was temperate, so I drank more. Betty came back again with two plates of food. There was a fresh one and what was probably Gil's half-eaten one, which means that they had been in the kitchen and knew I was coming because Betty had felt my car on the road. "Eat. You must be hungry," she invited.

"Thank you." I would keep saying it. Gil and I released each other so we could bring food into our mouths. Betty went to bring her own lunch so she could join us. We could not converse, but the silent, pleasant company was welcome. However, I did ask Gil, "Who made this?"

His smile was cheeky. "My cooking is so similar to my mother's that you can't tell who made it. It was me." He put his spoon down on his plate to sign with one hand to tell Betty and she laughed. He then asked me, "What about you? How was brunch fixed at your parents' ?"

"My dad got takeout from some place my mom likes." He hummed in acknowledgement. I added in a soft voice, "I like it too, but..." Gilbert faced me. He leant his head down and we closed our eyes, leaning our foreheads on each other's to show solidarity.

Both mother and son graciously let me eat as much as I wanted to, and boy did I have to stress eat. Of course they indulged themselves as well. Between the three of us, the food was finished quickly, and Gil did the washing up; it was a chore I tried not to handle because of my eczema, and Gil was happy to do it so I would not have to as much as possible. When he was done, he joined me on the couch again and we cuddled. He had one arm around me while his other hand held both of mine, and he periodically kissed my head. Because of the odd hours we had been keeping the past few days, we felt drowsy; I soon fell asleep on Gil while he rested his chin on my head and fought to keep his eyes open. Betty noticed, and she went to get a blanket, wrapping it around us. When her hands were free, she said, "You're welcome to sleep until you have to go to work. But it's better if you lie down."

Gil nodded, gently as he could. "Thanks mom," he mouthed. She affectionately ran her finger across his cheek and went away. Gil fastened his arms around me and moved us so that I was lying face down on top of him with my arms dangling on his sides. He grabbed hold of one of the pillows on the couch and put it under his head. Finally, he fell asleep.

When we woke several hours later, we found ourselves in a completely dark room, because the sun had gone down completely and Betty had not turned on any lights so as to not disturb our sleep. She let us freshen up in her bathrooms.

After that, she made her excellent hot chocolate with marshmallows added in, and we enjoyed ourselves partaking in it with some chocolate biscuits out the tin, taking more marshmallows if we felt like it. That was our breakfast, or dinner; who even knew at that point?

When we wanted to leave for work, Betty saw us off at the door. She and Gil hugged and kissed affectionately. I hated that it made my heart sore, and I was crying. They must have felt me staring, because they turned to look at me, and in tandem, I jerked my head away, face burning with shame. To my shock, I felt Betty clutching me in her arms and pulling me towards her body; I gasped as my tears fell uncontrollably. Gil wiped my tears, making sure I felt how tender he wanted to be with me, and Betty let me sniffle and shake and gasp, obligating, unjudging...fully truly loving. She pushed me back only because she wanted to say something to me. "Even if your own parents don't love you, I do. Even if they hurt you, I won't. You are safe here."

I cleared my nose with one last sniffle as I smiled and ran a finger over the side of my eye. "Thanks mom." I could say that guiltlessly now. At that, she smiled brightly and held my cheeks, bringing my face down to kiss my forehead. When we could see each other again, I signed, "Happy Mother's Day." I turned to look at Gil because I could feel him staring heavily; I saw his achingly affectionate smile. He put an arm around me and walked me to his car, the both of us turning to wave at Betty one last time.

That was that for Mother's Day. Far too quickly for my liking, Father's Day rolled around. "Ugh..." I groaned into my pillow, for I was face down on our bed. "Ugh..."

Gil chuckled and petted my back, finding my fitting childish expression of reluctance amusing (and I was lucky that he always found me adorable anyway). "Come on. It's just for lunch. Then you can come home." This time, we were going out to a restaurant, so since we were in public, my parents were more likely to behave themselves...and my father was a lot less likely to hit me. I never wanted to Gil to come along with me to these things. Because...my parents already tried to force themselves into every other aspect of my life, and take control, and ruin me in that area. The thing I protected the most viciously was my work, including my job, and my family, which included Gil. My job and my people were sacred. I wanted them to be forever untouched by my parents, untainted so I could enjoy them without having the reminder of my parents' influence haunting me. Anyhow, with Gil's encouragement, I found the strength to go and get it over with, his warm hug, sweet kisses and smile and kind words lasted as protection on me, like a blessing from an angel.

I managed a stiff smile and wave as I neared my parents' table at the restaurant. "Hi guys." GOD that sounded forced.

"Hi (y/n)! Glad you could make it!" I internally shuddered at the excessive sugar-coating. Fortunately, I was not asked for a hug since they were already seated, and they bade me to sit too. We let my father order what he wanted, since this event was for him after all. Our conversation after that was awkward on my end; they conversed between themselves just fine, but when it came to me, I had to force myself to speak civilly to them. It was difficult, considering that there was the lingering fear that my father would repeat what he had done only a couple of weeks prior. Miraculously, I made it through the ordeal without any scathing, and I quickly hurried home to flop down in bed again.

Gilbert, the working bug that he was, had gone to partake in a little bit of the afternoon shift to occupy himself while I was with my parents; thus it was that he came home later than me and found me in the same position he had gotten me up from earlier. He laughed, and it was as if a soft blanket had been placed over me, individual parts of my body relaxing as his voice seemed to touch them, until I was relaxed completely. He came up to me and brought his hand down on my back. "You survived!" I let out an 'oof' and flinched, because my muscles had tensed up due to the stress, and Gil dropping his hand on my back made them hurt. "Oh I'm sorry." He sat on the edge of the bed and began to massage my aching back, shoulders and neck. I sighed in relief. He was so careful and gentle and thorough, rubbing and loosening my muscle wherever it was stiff. Soon he helped me take off my shirt so it was easier, carefully kneading. Given that my bare skin was exposed to him, he kissed and rubbed his beard on it; I blushed profusely and clutched the pillow to my face. He giggled and murmured flirtatiously against my back, "You like it when I do this." After that he kissed that spot and made his beard tickle me again. That combined with his attentive hands massaging me felt amazing.

Eventually, I was completely better. "There, all done," he said with a pet to my ass, making me shudder.

"Thanks..."

He picked up on something in my voice and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I turned to look at him. "Look, what am I supposed to do? You know I love your hands, and you were massaging me so...I don't have the word, but mixed in with your kisses, and your beard on my skin, and touching my ass like that..."

His eyebrow still raised, he gave me a smirk, then motioned his head in the direction of the bathroom. "How about we go take a shower and we'll see about that?" He offered his hand to me and I shyly took it. We took off our clothes and threw them in the laundry basket and went into the bathroom. I could not stop staring at his naked, sexy body, and playing with his chest hair; he had been touching me earlier, and now it was my turn. We made love in the shower, but even that was not enough, for when we got out and collapsed onto the bed, we felt the desire to go again, giggling and holding each other as we took our pleasure in each other once again.

#gil grissom loving #gil grissom #billy petersen loving #billy petersen #william petersen #csi #c-v-c-e fic

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twenytwenytwo · 1 year

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Dec 21 2022 (7:00am)

Last night I talked about commitment, conclusiveness, etc, and how making commitments can free up your mind from anxious paralysis.

I remember last year when my mind was in a rough place, and I was feeling some feelings of unreality. Some months into it all, I found out from my dad that my Grandpa and Uncle over there had died. Obviously, I was sad. But, I remember it being somewhat refreshing feeling low about something tangible, something real.

Making a commitment, comes with sacrifice, which is usually accompanied by some magnitude of pain. When things are uncertain, in a state of limbo, (perhaps from a lack of commitment) it’s possible that it encourages feelings of unreality. This is because you can’t confidently say what your circumstance is. You don’t know what to think, or how to act, or how to feel. You don’t know what’s good.

Making a commitment, and accepting the consequences, the weight of it, makes you feel real because it activates the pre-intellectual systems that make you feel real, or feel certainty, conclusiveness.

Asking “what is real?” from an intellectual perspective is simply asking what other nouns fit the criteria of “real”. When somebody is really overwhelmed, fixated by the question it stems from first feeling uncertainty.

I’d argue that nobody has been consumed and perplexed by the question “What is real?” without feeling it, feeling the gross uncertainty, maddening inconclusiveness, impossibility of the answer. Somehow, such a feebly formulated question has the power to grip you by your balls and make your soul scream in existential agony; a phenomenological claustrophobia; a hell of shooting, painful thoughts.

If somehow these journals reach another soul, and you are experiencing this existential crisis, and are driven somewhat insane by the question “What is real?”, I will give you the solution now.

Understand that there are rules to your experience, whether you currently can believe that is logically sound or not. That is certain. There are rules. Within these rules is the solution to your craziness, because your feelings were brought about by systems that abide by these rules, even if you don’t believe in them or like them…

… you will never answer the question “What is real?” because it is 1) partially broken, and 2) you secretly do not want to answer it. You have unconsciously committed to a rebellion against a world that has left you empty and cold, a rebellion that requires you rip it apart in the least public and physically dangerous way possible: in your mind, privately. You do it this way because have already committed to be a good person; to protect your social linkage to the community around you. This urge, this feeling is as innate and non-negotiable to you as the feeling of uncertainty that props up your existential crisis. This commitment is the basis of being a good person, a title given to you by the mass of others surrounding you. The external validation is a symbol, an activator of an invisible part of your psyche, a part that builds worlds.

Through your destruction of a world that has left you hungry and cold, you gather the raw, unrefined building materials for your new civilization. Your new sense of existence. Your new life.

… I said I would give you the solution. Here it is concisely. Respect what you are. You are a human experiencing a hyper-intellectualized feeling of uncertainty, or more refined, lack of safety. Who you are also plays a role.

If you’re young, your personality, despite it being in it’s most developed state so far, it has yet to refine itself. Your psyche has lots of little bits, twigs that stick out and get hooked on the world as you travel through life. As these catch and tug you around, they’ll snap off, one by one, and it will hurt. As the years go by, you won’t have so many hooky twigs.

Cultivate certainty. Make commitments. Even if it’s a commitment to explore.

… to be continued

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wawue526 · 1 year

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The Conveniences of a Wall Mount Soap Dispenser

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samtheflamingomain · 2 years

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on hope and disappointment.

I was instilled with 2 fundamental ideals as a young child of extremely nihilistic parents. First: "Aim low and avoid disappointment". Second, perhaps contradicting the first, "Always vote, no exception."

And I've followed both to this day. Well, except yesterday when, for the first time in 9 years of voting, I didn't.

And the guy I hate won. But I knew that. Everyone knew that.

Our voting is almost identical to that in the States; we elect our local representative and they get a seat in Provincial Parliament (our State Senate). I knew my area was going to be Orange no matter what. And it was. I still feel a bit bad because I always harass others to vote, but this time was different.

It felt like a waste of bus fare. I know my girl is winning here, but I know that dude is winning overall. The only thing my vote would've done was to up the voter turnout. And I realized that. And stayed home because of that fact alone.

Because, after a week of blaming the 57% of Ontarians who didn't vote, we'll turn that number in a shining beacon of our desperate need for electoral reform. At least, that's what I hope can come out of this.

Hope. That's where I'd like to reintroduce "aim low and avoid disappointment". While I still do this, and I'm one of the most pessimistic people I know, I'm also one of the most optimistic in one singular sense: hope.

It takes a fuck of a lot of aiming low to get me to a place where I don't have hope. I've been diagnosed with an incurable, rarely-even-treatable disease, IH. I'm finally starting a new med next week, and while I'm 99% ready for it to do absolutely nothing just like the cocaine-level dose of Adderall I'm on. Still 10/10 tired every day all day.

But no matter how low I aim, it's never low enough for zero hope. Because, while I don't think the new med will work, it could. There's always, always a chance. It's why I've never refused any kind of mental health treatment, including ECT and rTMS. There's always been hope that the right drug is the next one. This is my last try, though, because it's literally the only option. Then my chances of waking up again become as close to 0 as possible. At that point, regarding my IH, I will be out of hope.

And while I "knew" when I hit the subreddit this morning, I still had that sliver of hope that the NDP would eke this one out somehow. But it rarely gets easier to have hope dashed, even 1% of it. Before today, I had that bit of hope that I'll get a raise to my disability so I'm not living in abject poverty. Now that hope, too, is gone.

Maybe I need to aim lower.

Usually, if I'd woken up to a 43% voter turnout, and after the math, realizing that about 14% of Ontarians decided the election, I'd be livid. But I'm not. I'm not even disappointed, because I did aim low enough to avoid that. But I am hopeless. For 5 more years, minimum wage and disability won't go up. Health care will be privatized. Teachers are likely to strike come September. Nurses will be walking off the job.

I'd usually be angry at my fellow Ontarians for not voting. But as someone who also didn't vote, I don't have that right. But I also don't believe it this time.

Our system is so broken that Ford won a majority government by 14% of people deciding so. Another 10, 20, 30%, this time, I don't think would've mattered much.

Add in that we all knew he was going to win again, and I don't blame anyone who didn't vote. This time, your vote really didn't matter much.

But I still had a right to my hope. And even when it's as miniscule as 1%, it still hurts to have that hope disappear. I've been mourning my chances of waking up again reaching near-0 for months. This one was more like ripping off a bandaid. You know it'll need doing eventually, and prepare for it and the sting is gone pretty quick and replaced with a milder form of pain that sticks around a bit but which, too, fizzles away quickly.

I've been planning my suicide since I discovered what IH was and that I was sure I had it. (Got a formal diagnosis last month). When I read up on it and found case after case of nobody ever waking up, no studies, no meds... hope seemed lost. But there's still this one drug that might improve my quality of life enough to live in poverty. My 1% of hope.

I had one (1) exception - if the Conservatives lost the Provincial election. Because that would mean I'd get an increase to my disability. And that might improve my quality of life enough to live with 10/10 fatigue. My 1% of hope.

In 3 weeks, I'll know if the drug does something. In 3 weeks, in the 2 categories of "stuff ruining my life", I will have 0 hope left. And that's going to be the most painful loss of hope in my entire life, because it will mean the end of it.

Aim low and avoid disappointment, Flamingos.

#hope #ontario election #voting #sam #suicide tw

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babyboibucky · 3 years

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Promises, promises

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You believed that promises are meant to be broken but Bucky always proved you wrong. Until one day, he proved you right.

Word Count: 6,555 (oops I got carried away lol)

Warnings: Angst, a tiny bit of self-doubt but with a happy ending!!!

A/N: Some tags aren’t working, damn u tumblr! Anyway enjoy the angst and the shitty writing lmfao. Also kinda want to do ficlets for these two??? Like short fics about the happenings in their relationship, their first date, how they dealt with the break up idk, lemme know if anyone’s interested in that xoxo

MAIN MASTERLIST

It's been four and a half years since Bucky broke up with you and honestly, you're fine now. Fine, as in you've moved on from him and that you haven't been stalking his Instagram account anymore or have been asking Steve how he's doing since the break up. You're fine now, really.

There was not an ounce of denial left in your body after almost two years of pining and self-blame. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten the pain he caused you when he woke up one day and realized that he didn't need you anymore.

Forgive and forget they often told you and you badly wanted to do so. But it wasn't that easy to do, not when you still feel the pain as if it only happened yesterday.

"What did you say?" your forehead creased as you walked around the kitchen counter, quickly approaching Bucky who had his back to you as he stood in the living room of your shared apartment.

You weren't sure if you heard him right, or if he actually said anything. Perhaps you were just hearing things? Just this morning he woke up and greeted you with his charming smile before pressing a soft peck on your lips. You had cooked breakfast together, laughed together and even talked about what to have for dinner.

Sure, something about his demeanor earlier was a bit off, but you assumed it had something to do about his work and not because he wanted to break up with you.

Right?

"Bucky, what did you say?" you pressed when Bucky remained quiet; he didn't even turn around to face you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, "I said I need space." he murmured.

"What do you mean, Buck?" you asked again, voice small and shaky as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

Of course you knew what exactly Bucky meant by that, but you didn't want to believe it. You were hopeful that maybe this was one of those petty fights you used to have, one where Bucky would spend the night over at Steve's. He'll come around the next day, he always does that. You always woke up to him whispering apologies to your ear and you would say your sorry too.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before finally turning to you, "I can't do this anymore." he said, shaking his head before averting his gaze to the floor.

He must have seen the look in your eyes when he faced you. As much as you believed that you were pretty good at hiding your emotions, it never worked on Bucky. He was the only person who could always read you; you could never hide from him.

"Bucky, I don't understand." you let out a nervous chuckle as you hugged yourself, biting your lower lip to prevent them from quivering as you held back the urge to cry.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, "I just...you've been too...fuck, I don't know how to say this without hurting you. I really don't want to." he admitted dejectedly, looking up at you.

You scoffed, "Just fucking say it, Bucky. I'm already hurt just by having this conversation." you told him.

"You're too good for me. Way too good."

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind again as you laid your eyes on him, four and a half years after your break-up. And just like that, you were back to square one.

You did your best to avoid him after he left, you felt like Bucky too tried to do the same. It was harder than you thought, given that you belonged to the same circle of friends. There were missed birthday parties, anniversaries and get togethers. If you knew Bucky was going to be there, you’d bail. Thank god you had a bunch of understanding friends who never took your absences against you.

But an engagement party between two of your friends? Now that was something you wouldn’t want to miss out on.

You’ve been really happy for quite a while now, to the point that it never crossed your mind that Bucky would surely be attending as well. He had been out of your system since the day you decided to move past him, which is why you thought that you were finally a-okay.

Tonight proved you wrong because as you watched Bucky smile and greet your friends, you realized that you still wanted to punch him and hurt him and tell him that you were still in lo—

“Hi.”

You were too focused on daydreaming about how you wanted to hurt Bucky that you failed to notice that he made his way to you and was now waiting for you to greet him back.

Bucky was smiling at you the same way he did on the night you first met at a college house party. You and Bucky have been together for that long.

“Hi.”

The music was too loud that you missed out on the stranger’s greeting, if not for his shadow looming over your hunched figure as you sat on the staircase, you would’ve completely ignored him.

The guy was looking down at you with a charming smile that made your cheeks turn pink. He was tall and slightly muscular, something you noticed right off the bat all thanks to the tight red henley he was sporting. The guy had long hair too, but it was tied back into a low man bun that was messy enough to leave tendrils of stray hair to frame his handsome face.

“Hi.” He repeated with a chuckle, a hint of amusement laced in his tone as he bit his lip at the sight of you just staring up at him.

“Hi?” You stammered awkwardly.

He laughed, “Um, can I pass through or is there some sort of password required?”

You realized that you had been blocking his way, everyone’s way actually. Quickly, you apologized and stood up to leave your spot only for the guy to block your way before you could even hop off of the last step of the staircase.

Thinking that you must have confused him and the direction you intended to go, you murmured a soft apology again before sidestepping him but to no avail. You looked up at him with a frown when you noticed that he was intentionally blocking your way.

It didn’t help that he was way taller than you. Despite the one being on the last step of the staircase, the guy still loomed over you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped and tried to move past him but he was way bigger than you and managed to stop you from passing through.

He had a cheeky smile on as he watched your futile attempt to squeeze your way out of his large body. You huffed out when he held onto the rail while his other hand on the wall, completely trapping you on the staircase.

“What’s the password?” He asked, still grinning at you.

You deadpanned, “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

You stared at him blankly before glancing at his hands, observing whether you had a chance at prying them away from where they held on. It was then that you noticed how his left hand was covered in tattoos. The sleeve of his henley rode up quite a bit to reveal that his tattoos reached his wrist, he probably had his entire left arm sleeved with ink.

“Can I please pass?” You huffed out when you concluded that there was no way you would be able to escape him.

“Like I said, I need a password.” He insisted.

“Penis.” You stated, face free from any sort of expression.

The guy choked on his laughter, “Why would you honestly think that?” He asked incredulously.

You shrugged, “I thought you guys liked dick jokes.” You reasoned out.

The guy laughed as he shook his head, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“It’s not the password?” You asked. “Don’t I get a hint or something, I really don’t have time for games right now. I have to go back to my dorm. I have a test tomorrow.” You told the guy.

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about a test. What’s your major anyway?” He asked.

You groaned, “Like I said, I don’t have time for games or even for a conversation. Come on, just let me pass through!”

The guy hummed as he stared at you, as if he was thinking of something. You wanted to look away but he had beautiful ocean blue eyes that you found yourself slowly getting lost in.

“I’ll give you hints.” He announced. “Two hints actually, because I’m feeling generous.”

“Okay, then. Just spit it out!” You rushed.

The guy grinned.

“The password is made up of your name followed by your number.”

“Hi.”

You blinked when Bucky repeated his greeting. When you regained your senses, you cleared your throat and simply nodded at him as acknowledgment. You saw how Bucky’s smile faltered seconds before you looked away and pretended to look for someone.

“I can’t believe you just brushed me off.” He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

Bucky had cut off his hair right after graduation. He sported a clean cut since then but now he had longer locks; not as long as his college hair though. It just looked fluffier, you fought the urge to imagine how it’d feel through your fingers.

“I can’t believe you just expected me to greet you as if nothing happened.” You told him, letting your eyes wander around the place.

Bucky exhaled heavily and shook his head, “I thought we’d be okay by now.” He admitted. “Guess I was wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, snapping your head into his direction after avoiding his gaze earlier. “I am okay, but that doesn’t mean I am okay with being around you.” You hissed.

“I honestly thought we’d still be friends, you know. Civil at least.”

What has gotten into Bucky’s mind for him to expect a lovely reunion between the both of you? Things didn’t end well, he just left. He was too ambitious to even think that you’d greet him with rainbows and butterflies.

“We’re not friends, Bucky. Not even acquaintances.” You told him.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something until someone tapped on the mic, announcing that the newly engaged couple, Wanda and Vis, had something to say to their guests. By the time he looked back at you, you had already walked away and joined Nat at their table.

It reminded Bucky of the days when he used to watch your back retreat into your dorm whenever he walked you home.

“So, you gonna tell me the password or what?”

You felt all your blood rush to your head and you’ve never been thankful for existence of strobe lights. You were probably red as a tomato. Who wouldn’t be anyway? This handsome dude just asked for your name and number!

“Is this a joke?” You managed to asked and thanked the heavens that you didn’t stutter.

The guy shook his head, “I don’t really joke around.” He shrugged.

“Why do you even want to know my name and number?” you curiously asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Been watching you since you arrived.”

“Creeper.” you accused.

“Hard not to when you’re the only grumpy person in a party. I know your friends dragged you here, I mean you said you have a test tomorrow and you don’t seem the type to party a day before. Besides, you’ve been keeping to yourself the entire time. Figured you might want some company, one with substance.” he boastfully wiggled his eyebrows at you.

His confidence appalled you but you were also surprised at how he seemed to have read your mind. Or personality, in general.

“Hey, Bucky!”

You watched the guy turn his head towards front door where a blonde guy— Steve from the student council, you recognized— entered. You thought it’d give you a chance to slip away but the guy, well Bucky, kept his hands in place.

“Kinda busy right now, pal. I’ll catch up with you later.” He said.

Steve’s gaze moved past Bucky until they landed on you. He chuckled as he shook his head at his friend’s antics. Steve walked away but not without acknowledging you.

“He may not seem like it, but Bucky’s a good guy. You can take my word for it.”

Bucky turned to you and lifted an eyebrow, “I mean, coming from a student council member, that’s a pretty credible source.” He said confidently.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. You had to admit, Bucky had a way with words and actions. His boyish charm was working on you and you hated how easily you were falling for it. And you just met the guy like ten minutes ago!

“So, what’s the password?” Bucky asked again.

You tapped your foot as you crossed your arms over your chest, “You promise to let me go if I tell you?”

Bucky made a face, “I don’t think that’s the right term because you can expect more of me once you give me the password. But I’ll definitely step aside. That’s a promise.” He reassured.

“Promises are meant to be broken.” You stated.

“Yeah, well watch me prove you wrong. Password? Pretty please?” He asked cutely and fuck, Bucky was really winning you over just like that.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you tell him your name and number. Just as he promised, Bucky stepped aside and quickly fished out his phone to type in your number. You honestly didn’t expect for him to remember it after hearing it once, but you peeked and he actually did. Impressive.

“Like I promised, off you go to study.” He said and motioned his arm towards the front door.

You sighed and offered a small smile before finally walking past him. You were about to open the front door when Bucky beat you to it.

“I told you ‘let go’ is the wrong term ‘cause I’m walking you home tonight.” Bucky said. “And tomorrow night too. And the next night and the next next night. Or afternoon. Morning? Whatever time your classes finish.”

Bucky really proved you wrong that night because he did walk you home the next night and the next next night too. It went on until he no longer had to watch you enter your dorm or apartment because eventually, the two of you ended up going to the same home.

It’s very ironic really, that it was also Bucky who failed to prove you wrong when he broke his promise not to hurt you, ever. You wondered whether it was your fault that you actually believed in him. It was hard not to though, because Bucky’s earned your trust from all the promises he made and kept.

Which is why it was even more painful when one day, he decided to break the one promise you truly held on to.

“I’ll always love you, you know that right?”

Bucky blurted it out randomly that his statement confused the hell out of you. The two of you were just playing a video game when he said it, making you hit pause.

“And where did that come from?” You asked with amusement.

Bucky frowned, “You could’ve reacted differently. I was hoping for a high-pitched ‘awwww!’ and this is what I get?” He teased, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb to pull you close so he could bite your nose playfully.

“You said it out of the blue!” You told him with a laugh. “But it made me happy though.” You admitted and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah, well it’s true. I mean, this thing we got? It’s forever.” Bucky said and lovingly smiled at you.

You pretended to gag at his words but it was obvious that you felt like you were on cloud nine when Bucky said that. “Cheeseballs!” You teased.

“This cheeseball’s gonna put a ring on that finger one day. That’s a promise!”

A finger snapped right in front of your face, “You good?” Nat asked.

You nodded and tried your hardest not to look at Bucky. He was seated with Steve, Sam and some other guys at the table next to yours. You could feel him staring at you and it was making you anxious. Nat and Sharon exchanged looks before letting out a sigh in unison.

“Come on, I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that!” You told them with a forced chuckle.

“What did Bucky say?” Sharon asked. She’d seen Bucky approach you upon his arrival, saw the expressions you both had as you talked and knew immediately that it didn’t go well.

Nat hummed before taking a quick sip from her glass of wine, “We’ve been watching and we’re curious.”

“He was expecting for us to be friends.” You simply stated.

Nat and Sharon groaned and rolled their eyes, “What a dick.” Nat said.

“Men really do have the audacity.” Sharon laughed and shook her head.

You joined her laughter and lifted up your own glass of wine, “I’ll drink to that.” You said before finishing your drink in one go.

One glass of wine turned into two and then three and then four. Six drinks later and you were buzzed and unstoppable. You weren’t that drunk, you were good at handling alcohol but you were tipsy for sure. The formalities of the engagement party were finally done and the guests were left to mingle around.

Wanda and Vis immediately went to your table to catch up and after giving them your heartfelt congratulations (and apologies for missing out on plenty of events), you decided to step out of the venue to get some fresh air.

The silence allowed you to process your thoughts, the same thoughts you had repressed for years. You were happy for Wanda and Vis, truly. The two have been the epitome of soulmates and it was only right for them to end up tying the knot. But you also couldn’t help but wonder, would you and Bucky end up in marriage too had he decided to stay and work things out with you?

You lift up your left hand and stared at your bare ring finger. Just a few years ago, you’d been wearing a simple gold band studded with tiny diamonds around it— a promise ring. Bucky had given it as a gift on your 6th anniversary. You’d gotten together when you were just 19 and Bucky 21. People always doubted that your relationship with him wouldn’t last long given that the two of you were so different. Not to mention, Bucky had a reputation. Girls fawned over him; he was tall and handsome, had a rugged appeal to him thanks to his long hair and tattooed left arm. He drove a damn motorcycle that got him into trouble plenty of times.

You were Miss Goody Two Shoes who played it safe and Bucky was the Big Bad Wolf who liked taking risks.

It was a surprise when your relationship with him kept on progressing and the next thing you knew, the both of you have been together for a total of eight long years. It would’ve reached nine but shit happened and Bucky decided that those eight years didn’t matter to him anymore.

“Can we talk?”

If Bucky asked you that a couple of years ago, you would’ve probably punched him in the face and kneed him at the crotch before running away. Well, you still wanted to do so but a part of you wanted to talk things out. Get a proper closure maybe since Bucky failed to give you a detailed explanation that would help you understand why he chose to leave you.

Nat told you once that some things are better left unsaid. You spent years secretly pining for Bucky after the break up, spent nights questioning yourself where you lacked that made him leave you. You’d asked Steve about Bucky whether he met someone knew or how he was dealing with the break up; it did you more damage than good until you finally gave up and decided to actually move on.

But now that Bucky was here and there was no way to avoid him, maybe you deserved this confrontation after all.

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the pavement right in front of you.

You felt Bucky stand beside you, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans before turning to you, “About us.”

You snickered, “Us? What about us? What is there to talk about us?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

Bucky’s eyes have always been your favorite feature of his. They were very expressive and if Bucky could see through you every damn time, it was his eyes that you could always read. They were still blue but they held a certain emotion in them as he gazed at you.

Sadness and...regret?

Before your assumptions could get the best of you, you turned away and waited for Bucky to speak again.

“I can’t keep on avoiding you.” He said. “I’ve been doing so for the past few years and it kills me.” He admitted.

“And you think I want to keep doing this too? I’ve missed out on so many occasions because I just couldn’t be around you. You’re not the only one struggling.” You said.

Bucky shrugged, “Then let’s stop avoiding each other.”

The way he suggested it almost offended you; he was so nonchalant about it as if it was so easy to just let him waltz back into your life. Truth was, you dreamt of the day that he’d come crawling back to you. But you knew better than to let your walls down just because you miss him.

“When Steve told me that you seemed to be doing well, I really thought it meant that we can become friendly with each other, y’now. I mean, eight years. Those years meant so much to me, we’ve been through a lot and—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Barnes?!” You bitterly chuckled.

“If those eight years together really meant a lot to you, you would’ve stayed. You would’ve allowed me to work it out with you! But what, you broke up with me because you thought I was too good for you? That you felt suffocated just because I was looking out for you?”

You didn’t mean to snap at Bucky like that, in your mind you thought you would be able to have a calm conversation with him. But with the alcohol running through your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from expressing yourself and and feeling the same way you did on that specific night.

“Too good? How am I too good for you, Buck?” You asked, immediately wiping off the tears that escaped your eyes.

“You have everything planned out! For yourself, for us. And it makes me feel fucking useless! I see you work your way up at your job and I’m still figuring out what the hell I want to do with my life!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” You whispered. “If you told me this then I could’ve done something about it, Buck! Rather than let it get this far, I would’ve fixed it.” You told him and tried to reach out but Bucky took a step back.

“That too! You’re a fixer! You always end up fixing things. This relationship has become an endless cycle of me fucking up things and you picking up the pieces. And every single time you clean my mess, I feel like you’re hoping I’d be like the others. It’s like you’re trying to make me into a person I’m not just so I could fit this, this certain mold you had in mind!” He accused you.

You wiped again your tears and refused to believe him, “That’s not true, Bucky! I’ve always loved you for who you are, I never asked you to change for me!”

“Yes, you do! You never said it but I always felt it...when Steve got promoted and when Sam finally launched his business. You always wanted me to be like them, you never said it out loud but that’s what you made me feel whenever we talk about my job...or lack thereof.” He chuckled bitterly.

Bucky may not be traditional in the sense that he considered himself an artist. He never liked the idea of settling for a nine to five desk job so he took on a job as a tattoo artist. It wasn’t a permanent job and he didn’t have clients demanding for him all the time so it gave him time to work for a motorcycle shop too.

It was never a problem for you but practically speaking, your and Bucky’s joint savings wouldn’t be enough for the future that the both of you have planned out.

“I’ve been supportive of you! I never asked you to give up on those jobs, Bucky.” You defended yourself.

Bucky nodded his head, “You don’t know it but you do. That’s how I felt whenever you suggested that I try something else.”

“It’s because I know you can do so much more! Stay at the tattoo parlor and mechanic shop, then fine! But don’t settle because you have the potential to make it out there, that’s what I want you to know! I don’t understand why you’re limiting yourself, Buck. Why you’re suddenly so afraid.”

You carefully took a step closer to Bucky and thank god he let you this time. You swallowed the lump in your throat and reached out to cup his face in your hand. Bucky was livid, his chest rising heavily with every breath he took.

“You were the one who taught me to be brave, to take risks. I used to be so afraid, remember? Afraid to ride your motorcycle, to try out that job I thought I couldn’t handle. I was so scared to commit,” you chuckled, remembering how much you hesitated to give Bucky a chance when he asked you to be officially his girlfriend.

“...but you’ve always been there for me. And I want to do the same with you. I know that it seems scary to let go of what you believe is your calling. You don’t have to let go of it, Buck. But you gotta try something new too.” You said as you let your thumb caress the skin beneath his eyes.

There was silence between the two of you. Bucky had calmed down and you thought that it was over. Little did you know that it was simply the calm before the storm. Because the words that came out of Bucky’s mouth were the words you didn’t expect to hear.

“Well, this is me trying something new.”

Bucky refused to meet your gaze and simply let your hand move away from his face. You shook your head no as you turned around to compose yourself.

“We were fine this morning, Buck. What happened?” You asked and embraced yourself, seeking comfort you knew you’d only get if Bucky changed his mind.

“I thought we were fine too. But the tattoo parlor is closing in a month and we haven’t been getting plenty of clients at the motorcycle shop. And it just hit me y’now, I dread coming home to you because I know you’d be disappointed and that again, you’d offer to fix my shit and the thing is, I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to fix my shit or tell me how to deal with my problems! I woke up and realized that I just don’t...” Bucky paused when you swiftly turned around with a frown, eyes brimming with a fresh new wave of tears.

“Don’t say it, Bucky. I’ll be better, I promise! I won’t nag you or pressure you into anything. Just please, don’t say it. Please don’t. We can still work this out.” You begged Bucky.

You weren’t sure you could take it, what he wanted to say. You already knew what he was going to tell you, you didn’t want to hear it. Let other people say it but god, it’d break you if you heard it from him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t need you anymore.”

The stabbing pain in your heart felt so familiar, the kind that punched all the air out of your lungs. You thought you were done crying over Bucky, but you were so wrong.

“I fucked up.” Bucky huffed out, bowing his head as if ashamed.

“You realized that just now?” You snickered. “Do you know how long it took for me to get over you? To forget the pain from hearing you tell me that you don’t need me anymore? After eight years together, Buck. You were my first everything and you gave up on us. And you really expected us to be friends, just like that?!” You spat.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky exclaimed, lifting his head to look up at you and you were surprised that his eyes were glazed with tears.

“I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong. Because you were right, I shouldn’t have settled then. But god I was an idiot, an insecure idiot.” He admitted.

“I was so used to being the one who guided you that it fucking hurt my ego when I noticed that you were becoming your own person outside of our relationship. I was supposed to be the one supporting you, pushing you to be better. You ended being the one leading me. I let my ego get the best of me and thought I’d be better off without you. But it was the biggest mistake of my life because when I left, I felt even more lost.” Bucky explained.

You were left speechless, you weren’t sure why Bucky was telling you all this. Did he want you back or was he simply apologizing? You didn’t have words so you remained quiet and waited to see whether Bucky had more to say.

“I’m so sorry, I really am. I hurt you. I should’ve stayed, should’ve worked with you to fix our relationship. I hate what we’ve become, I sincerely wanted us to be civil with each other at least.” He said.

“Bucky, you’ve been saying the same thing over and over again. I’m not sure you understand the situation. I can’t be friends with you. Not after what happened. I thought I was fine but now I realized that I’ve never really moved on from the pain you caused me.” You told him and sniffed, looking back to check whether your friends could see you.

Thankfully, all the guests were still busy mingling with each other. It’s as if the universe meant for this confrontation to happen. But now you weren’t sure what to do after you finally got a clear explanation from Bucky.

“I wanted a fresh start with you.” Bucky said. “Thought that it would make it easier for me to win you over if we were friends again.”

You scoffed in disbelief, “It’s not that easy, Buck. I can’t just let you walk back into my life after your apology. It doesn’t work that way.”

You tried to move past him but he immediately blocked your way, “When I said I’ll always love you, I meant it. I still do. I want to make things right, please. Give me one last chance to fix this.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was Bucky’s words and how sincere he sounded that made your head spin. Your heart was racing and your palms turned cold. You wanted him back too, so bad but you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. He broke your heart and your trust, you weren’t sure if you’d survive if he left you again.

“I can’t continue this conversation, Bucky. I have to go.” You told him and made your way towards the door to the venue.

However, Bucky was quick to stand in front of the door. He had a determined look on his face, one that looked extremely familiar. You were still hurt but couldn’t deny the fact that you too, still love him.

Even after everything that had happened, Bucky still owned your heart.

“Bucky, can you please move? I want to go home.” You said and tried to reach for the door knob but Bucky moved and leaned against the door.

“You need a password to get through.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re way too old for this, Bucky. I’m not playing with you.”

He shook his head, “I’m not playing either. Give me the password or else we’d be here the entire night.”

You huffed out, “This isn’t funny. Let me through.”

Bucky shrugged, “No can do. Like I said, I can do this all night.”

You deadpanned, “What’s the hint?” You asked with a defeated sigh, knowing well enough that there was no way you could walk past him without playing along with his stupid little game.

“Consists of three words.” Bucky said.

“Penis boobs vagina.”

Bucky cackled, “And I thought you said we’re too old for this.”

You groaned, “I’m serious, Bucky. Just let me go.”

“No. I made that mistake once and I’m not doing that again. I love you. And I promise that this time, it’ll be different. I know you still love me too, so again I am asking you to take a risk and say it.”

Bucky said it with conviction and you hated how it made your stomach flip. Up until this day, Bucky had a way to make you fold. And he could still read you.

“I’m not saying it, Bucky. How sure are you that I still feel the same anyway?” you asked.

Bucky tipped his head towards your neck, “Not sure if you just forgot but you’re wearing the promise ring as a necklace.”

Fuck. Of course, you’d forgotten about it. You may not have been wearing it on your finger, but you still continued to wear it. It meant a lot to you even after the break up, so much so that you couldn’t simply throw it away or remove it. You figured that it might be better to keep it around your neck. Out of sight, out of mind but still there. You wanted it to exist, it was a part of you.

“Say it and I promise that you won’t regret it.” Bucky insisted.

“Promises are meant to be broken. You proved that the night you broke up with me.” Your voice quivered when you said that.

“And I want to make it up for it for the rest of my life.” He reassured.

“History repeats itself. I don’t think I can deal with it again if you realized the second time around that you don’t need me. Buck, you really hurt me.” You said, voice cracking before you could even finish your sentence.

Bucky quickly took your face in between his hands and for some reason, it felt right. The warmth of his palm, the love in his eyes as he gazed at you, it felt like home.

“I know and I hate myself for it. So fucking much. But I promise you, it wouldn’t happen again. I fixed my life when you left, realized that you were right. I’m better now. So let me be the fixer this time, let me be the one to fix this mess, to pick up the pieces. Because I’m just as afraid to let you go again. I can’t do that again. I love you and I need you. I always did.”

The kiss he pressed on your forehead caused your walls to crumble down. All of a sudden you were sobbing into his arms and apologizing.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you then, Buck. I didn’t know, I’m sorry too.” You cried.

“Shh, no. Please don’t apologize.” Bucky coaxed as he pulled back to kiss your tears away. “None of this was your fault, baby. It’s all on me. Let me make it up to you, please?”

The term of endearment made your heart flutter and as much as you hated how Bucky easily won you over, again, the love you have for him was quick to outweigh it. You knew you shouldn’t have given in to him just like that, but this was Bucky. He was your greatest love, someone who owned your heart even after he left.

“I miss you, baby. Couldn’t fathom the thought of you being with someone else.” Bucky admitted as he hugged you tightly.

“I was so stupid, so fucking stupid. I hated myself for hurting you. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

His hand rubbed circles against your back, helping you calm down after your breakdown. He swayed you from side to side, pressed kisses on your crown and whispered promises that he was sure he was going to keep and you basked in it. When you finally calmed down, you pressed your face into Bucky’s neck and inhaled his scent.

He smelled the same, like comfort and love and trust. You hugged him tighter and smiled into his skin and mumbled, “I love you.”

Bucky chuckled, “You got the password right but I don’t think I’m letting you go just yet.”

“Nat and Sharon’s gonna kick our asses if they find out.” You chuckled.

He pulled back and stared at you lovingly, “I’ll take the hit for you.” he laughed.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled again, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Forgiven.” You told him and stood on your tiptoes until Bucky bent down to meet your lips in a kiss.

You sighed into the kiss. Four and a half years of pain and anger all gone and replaced with the love you always had for Bucky. His lips against yours made you dizzy but in a good way.

It felt right, like this was how things were really supposed to be.

You pulled back and sighed, “As much as I want to stay like this, I’m really tired.”

Bucky let you go but took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m driving you home tonight.” He said.

You smiled.

“And the next night. And the next next night.”

Yet again, Bucky proved himself to be worthy of another chance. Because he drove you home the next night, and the next next night. It went on until he regained your trust back and all was well enough for him to finally reveal the black velvet box that he had been keeping in his pocket since the night of your eventful reunion.

“You need a password to see what’s inside.” Bucky grinned up at you as he bent down on one knee.

You chuckled through your years, “Any hint?”

“One word, three letters.”

You wiped away your tears with a smile followed by a subtle nod.

“Yes.”

Bucky kept his promise all along, he really did put a ring on your finger. Took quite a while with plenty of obstacles that caused its delay, but a promise fulfilled nonetheless.

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