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instructionsnotincluded · 3 months

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True North - Sneak Peek (John "Bucky" Egan x Original Female Character)

Ok so after a handful of messages yesterday, I was feeling inspired and a little excited about the possibility of a new fandom and may have binged some of Masters of the Air late last night. I'm not quite sure where it's going to end up, but here's part of the first chapter. Testing the waters (or clouds?) to see if there's even any interest in it. OR if it's just total shit, since it's a new era I've never written for before. (If so, we can just pretend this never happened, hahaha.)

Pairing: John "Bucky" Egan x Original Female Character

Length: 1935 Words

Warnings: Language, military inaccuracies, writer flying by the seat of her pants as she tries to research more about WWII and pilots, mentally cursing herself for not paying closer attention in history class, 18+, MDNI.

“You’re flyin’ today, Frank!”

The loud accented voice filled her ears, the brunette squinting her eyes closed tightly as she heard footsteps echoing all around the shared room, the sounds of trunks opening and closing joining in a moment later. She’d just been on the verge of a delicious dream with Gary Cooper’s character from The Westerner when Dorothy Skylar’s voice interrupted their suggestive conversation, her friend rudely butting into the fantasy.

“If you don’t get up, they’ll give your spot to the boys!”

“Ok!” Frank lifted her arm into the air, waving it around to signal she was, in fact, alive, “ok! I’m up—I’m getting up. Keep your panties on.”

“We call ‘em knickers ‘round here, love!” Dorothy’s laughter bounced along the walls, mixing in with the various posters, postcards, photos, and letters pinned above each of the beds, “if you’re going to talk about them, get it right!”

“You are all so irritating,” Frank shifted into a sitting position, the thin strap of her silk tank-top falling over her shoulder as she pressed the heel of her palm into her eye, “does no one like to sleep in anymore?”

“Haven’t had the luxury in years, darling,” Dorothy finished buckling her belt, pausing briefly in the full-length mirror as she adjusted the pins in her curls, “while you Americans have been ignoring what’s been going on across the Atlantic, we’ve been living this nightmare for years.”

“Well—at least it’s a shared one now,” Frank rested the back of her hand against her mouth as she stifled a yawn, “alright, I’m getting up. Where am I going?”

“Thorpe Abbotts,” Dorothy glanced over her shoulder to look at Frank as the shorter woman moved around her bed and over to her trunk, pushing aside piles of unfolded clothing to find her uniform, “should be a quick flight, you’ll be back before dark.”

“Maybe,” Frank disrobed and redressed once her undergarments were secured, Dorothy averting her eyes as Frank changed before messing with her hair, “we’ll see—last time I flew the airfield manager wouldn’t let me off the plane until he’d spoken to at least three men, one of whom was ranked lower than me.”

Dorothy only hummed, both women more than aware of how difficult it could sometimes be ferrying planes to and from airfields and bases, especially if the Americans were involved. It was still shocking to most men that women flew—and while the program in the US was slowly getting off the ground, the British had fully embraced female pilots, the Air Transport Auxiliary allowing women to help ferry new, repaired, and damaged aircraft between factories, plants, airfields, and squadrons. Frank had jumped at the chance to fly, to do something for the war effort that wasn’t working in a factory—she had well over four-hundred hours of flight time in the US, and while the United States Army Air Forces wasted time debating on whether or not you needed a dick to fly, she bypassed the red tape and joined the ATA shortly after Jacqueline Cochran led the first group to England. Fast forward two years later and Frank found herself an active member of the No. 6 Ferry Pool, doing whatever she could, whenever she could.

“Are you going to see that boy of yours?” Dorothy asked, nodding towards one of the folded letters on Frank’s nightstand, the corner of it peeking out from under one of her journals.

Frank shook her head as she finished buttoning up her flight suit, the material heavy, thick, and too big for her frame before sliding on the sheepskin jacket. That was another thing about being a female pilot—there weren’t any uniforms to fit the female body, the material often baggy on her arms and legs, but tight across her hips. “He went down a few months ago over the North Sea,” Frank mentally scolded herself for not tossing the letter after she heard the news. They hadn’t been that close—a few afternoon dates when she found herself on overnight trips to London and he happened to be there, brief memories of them sneaking around hallways, bodies pressed up against walls as they sought comfort and distraction in one another. He was from Texas and smelled like home, reminding her of easier times when she was away at college, just trying to find direction in life. But like that experience, he was gone and she was left to figure out which way was North once again.

“Frank…”

“It’s fine,” Frank reached for her bag, Dorothy pausing at the doorway, eyes cloudy with regret as she watched her friend pass her, pressing the heavy wooden door open as both women stepped out into the hallway of the dormitory the ATA housed them in, “it’s war.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t mean something…that it doesn’t hurt…”

“I thought you were British,” Frank pushed the emotion and tears away, scolding her heart for clenching as she turned to walk backwards, pressing a finger onto Dorothy’s badged chest, “aren’t you supposed to ‘stiff upper lip’ everything?”

Dorothy only rolled her eyes, the girls exiting the building a few moments later, the cloudy gray English sky greeting them as they crossed the pathway towards the waiting trucks, “have I ruined your flight time?” Dorothy asked quietly once they were in the back of the jeep, eyeing her friend as Frank leaned heavily against the side, “you’re not going to be distracted are you? You’re flying a Class 5 aircraft today—you need to be focused.”

“I’m fine,” Frank waved her off, “and even if I wasn’t, I’d be fine once I’m in the air. Trust me, that’s the only place my mind doesn’t wander.”

Dorothy didn’t appear convinced, but didn’t push the matter, the girls sitting in silence the rest of the ride to the airfield. Planes dotted the landscape, the tower looming in the background. Most of the planes would find homes on other bases or airfields, another tool for the boys to use in their battles. For a while it felt like production was stalling, they had so few to ferry around, but it seemed in the last year or so it had definitely picked up, so many different classes of aircraft ready to be delivered to the Allies. Frank hadn’t yet flown into Thorpe Abbotts, the Royal Air Force station just a handful of miles to the east of Diss, Norfolk. It was fairly new, having been built the previous year, but once the United States Army Air Forces took possession of the airfield, it seemed like activity was picking up.

The boys at Thorpe Abbotts seemed to be going through planes like candy, and Frank was pretty sure this was their fifth ferry to the airfield in less than two weeks. Typically they flew to the smaller satellite bases once a month, maybe twice if there were mechanical issues, but five times in two weeks? Something was definitely going on in East Anglia. She’d heard low rumblings of the amount of planes that went down during their missions from the British pilots—the men criticizing the Americans for bombing during the day rather than waiting until evening. One conversation she overheard at dinner a few weeks ago seemed to be about the recently arrived 100th Bombardment Group and how they kept losing men to dumb tactical decisions. “It’s war,” one of the heavier accented men had said, slumped backwards in his chair as he rested a beer on the table, “you do what you need to survive.”

“...are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

Frank’s eyes snapped back to those of Commander Dorothy Skylar’s, the three gold stripes she wore on the shoulder strap of her jacket seeming to catch in what little sunlight they had today, making Frank’s two stripes seem even less important than they already felt. “Yes, sorry,” Frank shook her head and the memories away, forcing herself back into the present, “I was just thinking about Thorpe Abbotts and some of the conversations that I’ve heard in passing about it.”

“They’re losing men and planes at a rapid rate of speed,” Dorothy nodded, glancing down at the folder of papers Frank just realized the woman was carrying, “I don’t think this will be your last ferry there.”

“No,” Frank turned her head as she watched the massive Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress come into view, eyes slowly taking in the matte green of the plane, white lettering and stars decorating the wings and body, “no, I don’t think it will be either.”

The girls scrambled out of the jeep when it came to a stop, their male driver neither acknowledging nor checking with them before he sped off, Dorothy just barely clearing the rear left bumper as he turned. “Fucker,” Dorothy whispered under her breath as they crossed the tarmac, “we fly planes and he drives a jeep—yet we’re still the gum under his shoe.”

“Men are babies,” Frank said as she approached the plane, left arm extending to slide across the edge of the wing, “they move from one tit to another, starting with their mother’s, until they die.”

Dorothy laughed, shaking her head as she watched Frank move through the checklist she had memorized by now, a few of the engineers hovering nearby if needed. A younger woman, who appeared to be just barely over eighteen approached quickly a handful of minutes later, clipboard pressed tightly to her chest, “Stella Frank?”

“Captain,” Frank corrected her, the girl almost shrinking back in on herself as she looked over at Dorothy for approval, but the higher ranked commander only stared back blankly, “it’s Captain Frank.”

“Yes—yes, Captain Frank,” the woman shuffled a few papers around as Frank came to stand beside Dorothy, both women waiting as she handed over a thin packet of instructions, hand shaking as she did, “here are your pilot notes, I’m so sorry they weren’t delivered sooner.”

“Thank you…” Frank waited expectantly but the girl didn’t appear to catch on that Frank was waiting for her name, and instead smiled politely at both women before scurrying off.

“Must you be so brash all the time?” Dorothy asked once the girl was out of ear shot, “I think today’s her first day.”

“Then she’s lucky she stumbled across me,” Frank flipped open the folder, eyeing the notes that gave her heading and speed instructions, as well as landing information, “if it’d been Ryan or Phillips she’d be on a plane back to the states right about now with wet knickers.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dorothy squinted up towards the sky, “you better get on with it—you’re due at Thorpe Abbotts in a few hours. You might get held up for a bit after you land, I think you’re ferrying back one of the planes that took heavier fire, so be safe.” Frank saluted her commander and Dorothy only rolled her eyes, “and watch for the fog, alright? I don’t know if Carol put it in the notes, but the fog around the airfield is sometimes incredibly thick. The boys may not see you until you’re landing.”

“And they have seen a woman before, right?” Frank lifted her eyebrows and Dorothy only shrugged playfully, “this isn’t one of the groups where there’s hardly any women on base and I’ll feel like a monkey at the zoo, right?” Dorothy took a few steps back in the direction of one of the metal buildings along the tarmac, a wide smile across her face. Frank only raised her voice to be heard, “right?”

“Don’t fall in love, Captain!” Dorothy called back, “we’ll see you back later tonight.”

#Masters of the Air Fanfiction #mota fanfic #john bucky egan fanfiction #John Bucky egan x oc #Bucky Egan fanfiction #John Bucky Egan x reader #John Egan Fanfiction #Bucky Egan Smut #John Egan Smut #John Egan x ATA!Pilot

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littlelovelore · 2 months

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Been taking it easy the past few days on posting + creating but i'm back in swing today 🖤

to learn some things about me keep reading 🦇

tw chronic illness //

I have some serious physical health issues that I deal with every day, hence why I have so much free time to do this stuff (writing, screenshots, learning to draw ect. Which is a blessing I have the energy and motivation to do, truly, because at a certain point that wouldn't have been possible. ) Let alone the fact i'm still alive to experience Baldur's Gate 3! (I seem to be on the mend and thus feeling more comfortable to talk about this)

This Astarion Fandom means so much to me and has become a huge part of my life. When I could be focusing on much darker things, this place brings me light. I especially want to thank @herdarkestnightelegance for always chatting with me on my works and photos, you brighten my day with this friend , probably more than you know.🖤 and @avenananana thank you for inspiring me to learn to learn art, something I had lost my connection to, but loved to do as a child.

Whenever I bounce back from this (been going on for about 3.5 years and I'm actually making a good progress right now as well) I would like to share more of the specifics of my story because I think it could really help people whom struggle with all sorts of things especially chronic illness.

Anyways thanks for listening to my tiny violin / ted talk/ monolouge thing and THANK YOU ALL for giving me a place to still be able to create, express myself and have some community in my life where once there was none.

🖤

"One person's 'barbarian' is another person's 'just doing what everybody else is doing." - Susan Sontag

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 9 months

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Under Orders - Part 5

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: Marshall x reader || Sy x reader

Summary: Sy decides to take August up on a very intriguing offer...

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, face sitting), p-in-v sex (protected and unprotected), use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, sugar, princess, kitten, sweetheart, love, darling and bunny), established polyamorous relationship, very light spanking, light choking, hair pulling, voyeurism, exhibitionism, verrry slight humiliation/degradation(?), facial irresponsible wearing of high heels after hurting an ankle, mention of guns and knives, and a very tense macho moment. (I think that's it but if I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: Again, dedicated to my dearest Charlie, without whom this pairing wouldn't exist in the first place... It took a while until it clicked - another 3 months, to be precise... You sowed this little seed of inspiration in my brain in March, and I have to admit I took care of it about as well as my boyfriend does houseplants. Not at all. But, after all these months, it's still alive - thriving, even, possibly - and everyone can finally enjoy some fun Syverson dick. Which is what this fandom is all about. Right?

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @know1udno @ylva-syverson @summersong69 @kingliam2019 @mayloma @sloppyzengarden @youve-yeed-yer-last-haw @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @livisss @sycochick

You’re fixing the porch light. It’s hardly a job you’re suited for, because you can still barely reach it from the top of your ladder, but someone has to do it, and August won’t get home until tonight, so you’re on your own. That means you’re also on your own when you get on your toes at the top of that stupid ladder, lose your balance, and come tumbling down. At least… you should be.

“Sugar, are you alright?” When you first open your eyes, you see nothing, because your face is pressed firmly against a solid, hairy chest. You don’t have to ask whose it is: the drawl and the nickname gave that away.

“I’m fine, Sy, thank you.” But as soon as he stops holding you up, you wince.

“Now, I’m gonna ask again,” Sy says sternly, “and this time I’d like you to tell me the truth. Are you alright, darlin’?”

“My ankle hurts a bit,” you admit reluctantly. Before you’re even done speaking, Sy has lifted you up again and carries you into your house, where he puts you down on the kitchen table and examines your ankle before asking where you keep your first aid kit. For the first time – today, at least –, you take a good look at him. He’s in a pair of run down jeans, and equally worn out work boots. A faded black t-shirt is hanging out of his back pocket.

“It looks like a mild sprain, but I’d like to get some tape on there just in case. Keep ya from movin’ it around too much.” You’re more than happy to point him in the right direction.

When he sits down in front of you again, and lifts your foot into his lap, your skirt creeps up your thighs. The opportunity is perfect: As of a week ago, you have August’s blessing, and Marshall’s, Sy is half naked in your kitchen, his face roughly level with your pussy, and you’re not wearing any underwear. This is your moment… Sy works on your ankle quickly and efficiently, while you sneak your skirt a little further up, spreading your legs a little wider than the situation calls for, wanting to give him a good view. Every time he touches your leg, you moan, and you squirm a tad too enthusiastically when he moves your ankle in a way that hurts ever so slightly.

Sy’s complete lack of response is just starting to get on your nerves when he finally snaps.

“You know,” he growls. “I have a standing invitation from your man to take you for a spin.” He gets up, putting a hand down on the table on either side of your hips, caging you between his arms. “And I don’t get the feelin’ you’re opposed to that idea. Puttin’ this naked pussy on full display, squirming in my arms like a bitch in heat. You gotta know it does somethin’ to a man, sugar.”

“Are you going to take him up on the offer?” you ask coyly while spreading your legs even further.

“Well, you’ve got the prettiest little cunt,” Sy growls in your ear, “I have to say I’m tempted.” His words – especially in that voice – make your heart flutter in your chest. It’s always those compliments – the crude and sexual ones – that get you the most, so it’s not a surprise, but there’s something in Sy’s voice that adds a new dimension to it. Maybe it’s the less-than-subtle Southern drawl, or the gravel in his voice, or the fact that there’s just a rougher edge to him than to your other guys… That same edge August used to have. The one he swears you filed off of him.

Without thinking, you raise a hand, placing it lightly on the side of Sy’s face. Some of the tension in his immensely broad shoulders disappears and he lets his head hang until his forehead is resting against yours.

Then, he kisses you, leaving you surprised at how gentle he is. His lips are soft, yet demanding, and you happily yield to his touch. As his tongue explores your mouth, you let your hands wander the incredible width of his shoulders. You can feel scars on scars on scars in some places…

“I ain’t gon’ tell you where they all came from, so if you’re curious: tough shit.” Whoa. Okay. His voice is hard and cold, and so are his eyes. “I did a couple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, that’s all I’m willin’ to say ‘bout it.” You run your fingers through his beard until his ice-cold demeanor melts a little. He’s still cold and distant, but you’re getting there.

“I won’t ask if you don’t want me to, but always feel free to tell me whatever you want to tell me. I’ll listen.” Your words seem to trigger something in Sy, to hurt him in some way that makes you uncomfortable…

“Quit talkin’ like you’re a girlfriend when you’ve already got your lucky guy.”

“I think you might have misunderstood something.” You can’t help but chuckle at his apparent confusion, even though the situation isn’t funny at all. It looks like you have some explaining to do… “I’m not dating August and screwing Marshall, Sy. I’m in a relationship with both of them. And I’m not necessarily looking for just an extra dick to jump on – although that’s a nice bonus.”

He considers your words for a moment, then he nods and sinks back down in his chair. “I do prefer to take my women out to dinner first,” he says, as a cheeky grin begins to grow on his face, “but I guess this time around I’ll have to start with dessert.” Right. He can take you out to dinner later.

Sy grabs you behind your knees, pushing your legs apart abruptly, making you squeal. Your reaction makes him laugh – a deep, rumbling huff that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, but you can barely move in his iron grip.

“Keep these open for me, wouldya?” He lets go of your legs, his eyes giving you a clear warning to listen to him. His hands now slide up your thighs, hooking around the back, grabbing your hips, just so he can pull your ass closer to the edge of the table. “C’mon baby, spread ‘em wider. Gimme a good view of this pretty li’l pussy.” His voice alone would be enough to drive you nuts. You lean back on your elbows and open your legs as wide as they can go. Sy puts a hand on you, and slowly drags his thumb over your clit. You can’t seem to decide what’s better: the way Sy touches you, or simply the fact that he finally is, after weeks of pining, yearning and being patient as August invited him over far more often than you thought was strictly necessary. Sy gets up again, never taking his thumb off your clit, just gently rubbing circles around it in a way that has you squirming again.

“What’re you thinking, sugar?” he whispers softly before kissing you. During the kiss, he runs a finger along your slit, chuckling as he feels how wet you are. You let out a long, low moan when he slips two fingers into you without warning – and without any problem at all. “Can’t wait to taste this wet li’l cunt,” he growls. Involuntarily, you arch your back when you hear him speak, making him laugh again. “Looks like you can’t wait, either. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

You know that game – inside and out, you might add – and you’re indescribably glad Sy likes to play it, too… “Please, Sy, please – oh!” His fingers pumping in and out of your pussy make you lose your train of thought.

“What, sugar?” That fucking grin… And those fingers, dammit, this man has skills.

“Fuck, Sy… Please eat me o-oh my god!” The last bit of your exclamation is lost when Sy kisses you fiercely.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he says with that same grin you hate – love. Hate. Love. Hate? – while he sits back down. For a moment, you think about what just happened, and what’s happening right now… You came – and hard, too, god damn – without permission, you should be in trouble. But you’re not in trouble – not if the divine feeling of scratchy facial hair between your legs and a wet tongue against your clit are any indication.

You were impressed with him before, now you’re convinced he’s not even from this planet. These are the skills – and enthusiasm – of a man who eats pussy for breakfast. Keywords include ‘skilled’, ‘meticulous’, and ‘goal-oriented’. Not ‘romantic’, ‘sweet’ or ‘caring��, but that’s okay. He’s on a mission. He’s making a point – even though you’re not quite sure what that point is, exactly. And the worst part? He’s so, so very good at this that you forget his name first, and then your own while he continues to lap at your clit until you come once, twice and a third time… The kiss afterwards is divine, tasting yourself on his lips makes you squirm like never before – which in turn makes him laugh. But the weird part… you’re still not in trouble. And you’re weirdly okay with that.

The next kiss is gentler, slower, maybe bordering on sweet or romantic or something else you don’t necessarily want to feel – not from him, not right now. Something about him is freedom and defiance, something… You’re dragged back to reality when you feel Sy’s shoulders tense up, and he looks to be on high alert over something he’s heard that you haven’t – but in the end, it’s you who sees what’s going on, first.

“Jesus Christ, Marshall, put the fucking gun down!” You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s had a tough shift, but this is excessive, even for him. Actually, this is the type of shit you'd expect from August. And you’re talking paranoid, ‘just returned from a three week mission' August.

“Not until I can see his hands and whatever the fuck he’s holding.” Sy scoffs when he hears that and lifts his left hand – which you hadn’t even realized he’d moved to the front of his jeans. “Drop the knife and turn around.”

“Walter,” you hiss, knowing he hates it when you use his first name, “this is Sy. The neighbor I’m fairly sure August told you about.”

“This the other guy?” Sy asks. He’s pretty calm for a dude who has a gun pointed at his back. You nod in reply to his question. “Cheerful.”

“Not really,” you say. This is annoying as fuck. “Marshall, seriously. Put the gun away and play nice.” You’re seeing your chances of Sy breaking into your little family the easy way dwindle to nothing right before your eyes, and it upsets you more than you had expected it would.

“As soon as he puts the knife down.” Stubborn as a fucking bull, both of these guys.

“I’m gonna put it back, and turn around. My advice would be to put that gun where I can’t see it before I do see it. Being threatened ain’t gon’ make me any nicer.”

“Taking a few steps away from my girl might help your case.” There’s something in Marshall’s voice. Exhaustion. Pain. Panic, almost. Sy slowly backs away while putting the knife back where it came from, and Marshall finally holsters his gun.

The standoff lasts a few moments longer while the guys size each other up. You should be annoyed by their antics, but now that no one is threatening anyone else with any weapons, it’s kind of hot.

“You always threaten guests with a gun?” Oh yeah. Low growling, teeth gritting, jaw clenching… Both sides of this argument pass Super Ultra Manly Man 101 quite nicely, but…

“When they’re unfamiliar to me and inches away from my girlfriend, I do. You always bring a knife to visit your neighbors?” The schtick gets old really fast, to be quite honest.

“In case some nutcase pulls a f-“

“Boys,” you hiss through gritted teeth. “Enough with this unnecessary display of toxic masculinity, thanks.” It’s almost a shame you have to break it up, but you don’t want to be cleaning blood off the kitchen floor. These guys don’t even need weapons to beat each other to a pulp.

“Lieutenant Walter Marshall.” He holds a hand out to Sy, and you roll your eyes. Was the rank thing really necessary? Probably not.

“Captain Dave Syverson. Call me Sy,” Sy replies. You get to experience the incredible joy of witnessing the tensest handshake you’ve ever seen.

“If you two are done measuring dicks, Marshall, can I get a hug? I hate guns.”

As soon as Marshall’s arms wrap around you, he apologizes. He can’t make it through the word ‘sorry’ before his voice breaks. Sy walks past you two, towards the kitchen counter, and after a few seconds of him rummaging around, you hear the coffee maker.

“Who’d you lose?” Sy puts a cup of coffee in front of Marshall, who takes it without saying a word.

“No one, yet,” he answers, “but an officer got hurt because of me.”

“What could you have done?” Sy doesn’t sound at all convinced Marshall had anything to do with it.

“I don’t know!”

“So, nothin’,” Sy says, as if that’s the end of it. “Can’t always protect ‘em all.”

After a while – and an interesting conversation between the guys that you decide not to get mixed up in – Sy gets up, telling you it’s time for him to leave.

“I’m pickin’ you up for dinner, though,” he notes as casually as can be. Your brain immediately goes haywire; August is coming home tonight, he’s not going to like it if you’re not home, and yes, you were the one to tell Sy that you weren’t looking for a one-time thing, or something that’s just sex, but…

You come up with a million new excuses every passing second, which makes it all the more surprising when you open your mouth and the word that comes out is ‘okay’. It’s like you have no other option – as if your mouth moves by itself. There’s just something so uniquely attractive and incredibly charismatic and roguishly defiant about him – something very cocky and very… cowboy. And he knows it.

“He’s going to get you in so much trouble, darling,” Marshall chuckles behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you watch Sy walk out the door. He is, he really is – you know it, Marshall knows it, and if you know August at all – and you like to think that you do – he’s known it from the moment he first saw you looking at Sy. “August isn’t going to like his influence on you.” It’s all music to your ears – and not just your ears, if you’re being perfectly honest. You involuntarily clench your thighs together when Marshall kisses your neck lightly, which instantly reminds you that you were so rudely interrupted after a few glorious orgasms, but nothing else.

Of course, Marshall notices. In fact, you’re willing to bet he was already suspicious when he came in, and of course he would have been right, because he always is. He always knows exactly what you need… Is he going to be a dick about it? Probably. Not that you mind – not at all… You gasp when he reaches around you, pulling up your skirt to get his hand between your legs – and upon arrival, he lets out a low whistle. “He knows what he’s doing,” he chuckles, “I’ll give him that.”

“Would you stop toying with me and just fuck me, please?” you beg when Marshall’s fingers brush past your clit. You’re still sensitive from Sy’s generous treatment, and you want – scratch that: need – someone inside of you right. fucking. now.

“So needy,” he hums softly in a way that draws a soft whimper from you. He could tease you, play with you for another few hours until you’re a mess and barely able to stand on your own two feet, but he’s not that cruel. You’re honestly lucky it’s not August behind you right now, because he wouldn’t have hesitated to draw this out for as long as possible. Marshall, however, is apparently in a giving mood and just takes his cock out, plunging all the way into your drenched pussy without warning. Good.

He unceremoniously bends you over the kitchen table – a piece of furniture that may or may not have been selected because it has the perfect height for such purposes. The old one didn’t, but it… broke. In mysterious ways.

Marshall is ruthless, thrusting into you almost recklessly, but with enough restraint that he can keep you away from the point where pain overtakes pleasure. Clearly he still has some residual anger to deal with from his encounter with Sy – or his bad day on the job, and you don’t mind one bit that he’s decided to take his frustrations out on you. He doesn’t speak, he just pins your chest to the table with one hand between your shoulders and fucks into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. You won’t feel it later; he’s careful not to hurt you, mark you, or do anything else that will remind you – or anyone else – of his presence later. All it will take is a single shower and you’ll be a blank page for your date tonight… In other words; he’s being incredibly considerate. Which is a strange thought to have while being railed six ways to Sunday over the kitchen table, honestly. Right when he’s about to finish, he pulls out, leaving you almost disappointed, until he spins you around and forces you onto your knees. A few harsh strokes are plenty to drive him to the edge, and he lets out a deep grunt when he comes, splattering his cum all over your face.

“Go get cleaned up, and call August about your date,” he growls. Of course he’s right. August will want to know. In fact, you doubt you’ll leave the house in an outfit of your own choosing. But there’s one thing that confuses you – disappoints you, even.

“You’re not coming with me?” you ask in a small voice. Showering with Marshall is… it’s the best. And he’s not joining you? That’s no fun!

“I’m going to borrow the home gym for an hour, because I have some… stuff to deal with. Sorry, love,” he says as he pulls you off the floor and presses a kiss to your temple.

You’re out of the shower and you’re cutting it close time-wise, so you decide to stop putting off what Marshall told you to do: Calling August. As you expected, he’s not happy to hear you won’t be home when he gets back from his trip, but he’s willing to admit he’s the one who gave you his blessing to figure things out with Sy, so he’s not going to complain. In fact, he seems thrilled when you ask him for his help. He loves knowing he’ll play a part in your night one way or another – and so do you.

You finish getting dressed just as Sy arrives.

“Lookin’ good, sugar!” He makes no attempt to hide the fact he’s checking you out, and you revel in the attention until he reaches a hand out to you and you take it, letting him walk you to his truck. It doesn’t take more than five minutes during the ride to the restaurant to figure out how tonight is going to end – in fact, you already knew this afternoon, but still, you tried very hard to not get your hopes up in case the date wouldn’t go as planned. Now, however, your doubts have disappeared without a trace. Sy is funny, he’s kind, he gets along with your guys great – save for the occasional gun-involving dick-measuring contest, he’s on board with your slightly unorthodox relationship – even willing to consider being a part of it – and he’s an incredible flirt. So, when you’re done with dessert and he’s squashed your idea of splitting the bill with nothing but a snort and a cocked eyebrow, you’re all but ready to jump him right on the spot. You don’t – ten points for you and your incredible restraint.

“Normally I’d ask ‘your place or mine’,” Sy chuckles when he turns onto your street, “but I believe your boyfriend is home?” He’s unbelievable… Not even asking if you want to keep this date going, he just… assumes. Correctly. But still.

“Your place it is, then,” you say in a failed attempt to regain some control of the situation. You notice your hands are trembling, and your breath is slightly faster than it should be. Nerves. Perfectly normal. This is a first date, after all. Except it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you’ve known this man forever, which is scary, not because you, well, haven’t known him forever, or because this is the first time you go out with him, but because you have something going for you with August and Marshall. Something great, and unique. Something you wouldn’t trade for the world. And what if he just… doesn’t fit? What if Sy doesn’t belong in your little slice of paradise? The simple truth is that you’re already terrified of losing him – and you barely have him to begin with. So yeah, you’re a little nervous, maybe even truly scared – but when your eyes fall on the hands on the steering wheel when the car stops in Sy’s driveway, you miraculously get calmer. Because your hands aren’t the only ones trembling; his are, too.

Sy’s bedroom is on the side of the house that faces yours, and large windows give you a pretty revealing view of your own room. It’s embarrassing how little time it takes you to become wrapped up in kissing Sy, melting under his touch as his rough hands roam your body with very little respect for the barriers that your clothes provide. He’s all over you; kissing your mouth, jaw and neck, trailing his tongue along your ear, hands impatiently squeezing your breasts through your clothing. Every last touch sends a jolt of electricity right down your spine into your core. You know you’re wet. You have to be, there is no other option, especially with Sy’s impressive hard on poking you in the most distracting way. His fingers nearly tear your dress in half as he takes it off you, and your underwear almost suffers a similar fate. He won’t let you step out of your heels, though, which tells you he has at least one other thing in common with your other guys.

“Unless your ankle is still bothering you,” he manages in between kissing your neck. It’s not bothering you – much. Not enough to take off half of your confidence – because quite honestly that’s what those heels are…

When you happen to glance out the window, you see the lights on in your own bedroom.

“Should we close the curtains?” Please say no, please say no…

“I thought your man likes to watch?” There’s a devilish glint in Sy's eyes as he says it that fires you up more than you would be willing to admit, but you’d dare anyone to date August Walker for more than four months and not turn into a bit of an exhibitionist. That’s how long it took you to allow him to rail you in the alley behind some bar you were in at the time, anyway. Sy interrupts your thoughts by slipping two fingers into your dripping wet pussy. He let’s out a low whistle between his teeth.

“Goddamn, sugar, is that for me?”

“A little,” you say coyly. “And a little because I know you’re gonna get me in trouble with…” Shit. You weren’t prepared for this. It feels too wrong to use his name, but using that title in front of Sy…

“What do you call him?” Sy grins widely. It’s so attractive it’s almost sickening, and it turns your knees to jelly. Good thing Sy’s holding you up, because you’re sure you would have gone down for real.

The question sounds so simple. The answer is simple, too, but you can’t say the word. That’s all cards on the table. Your entire dynamic with August out in the open. Are you ready to trust Sy with that?

“You don’t have to tell me, sugar,” he mumbles into your ear. You lean your head against his chest, and suddenly realize how much more naked you are than he is. As soon as you slide your hands underneath the fabric of his shirt, you sigh. It’s impossible to keep your hands off the scars, though, which seems to bother Sy. He wraps his arms around you and looks at you.

“Please don’t,” he whispers softly, and you move your hands to his waist. After some time, you break away from the hug and walk over to the windows. With one sharp tug, you pull the curtains shut. As soon as you get to the second window, you see August standing in front of his. You smile. So he was watching. Not that you’d expected anything else. He holds out a hand, thumb raised, and slowly turns his hand until his thumb is pointing down. It’s a question: ‘Are you okay?’ You give him a thumbs up before pulling the curtains on the second window.

“He checking up on you?” Sy says, catching your hand before you can draw the curtain. You had no idea he was standing right behind you, but it’s nice to feel his arms around you again.

“Always,” you reply as you turn around.

“What are you doing, though. Thought you were on board with…”

“I’m treating this like the first time it is, Sy.”

“Don’t,” he growls, “I want him to see this.” There’s something to his voice… a sense of mischief, but also something darker that’s reflected in his eyes as well, and in the way he pushes you back to get a better look at you.

Then, he turns you around, gathering as much of your hair in his fist as possible. With the other hand, he pushes the curtain back again. August is still there – not in front of the window, but you know he’s in that room, watching. The fact that an innocent passer-by might get a good look at your tits doesn’t bother you at all. If anything, it excites you more.

“Fuck,” Sy growls in your ear, “I hate to have to let you go right now.” A loud smack echoes through the room and all the way through your body when his palm lands on your ass. “Don’t move, sugar.” He lets go of your hair and steps away, leaving you whining by the window – but you don’t move a muscle. Sy doesn’t take long – the familiar crinkling of foil packaging gives you a decent hint as to what the fuck he’s even doing, and you very much appreciate the absence of a “not as good with a condom”-attitude. This time, his hand doesn’t go for your hair. Instead, Sy’s arm wraps around you, and his hand creeps up your stomach, over your chest, until it firmly grabs your throat. With an amount of gracefulness you don’t necessarily expect from someone his size, he lines up and thrusts into you, leaving you with no other option than to gasp – loudly. Your body struggles to accommodate his girth – it shouldn’t be a problem; he can’t be bigger than Marshall. Still, it could be all manner of things: the position, the relative absence of foreplay, although your date and the drive home were brimming with sexual tension that had your underwear soaked from the moment you got together.

Your chest rises and falls with your increasingly quick and erratic breaths.

“Shh,” Sy whispers in your ear, his hand moving from your throat to your cheek, cupping it gently, “it’s okay. I know you enjoy this, so enjoy it.” He’s right. Absolutely fucking right. Maybe understating things a little, even… or a lot. Because you do love this. Getting railed from behind? Yes please! Being choked a little? Hell yeah! The manhandling? You’re sopping! Knowing August is watching you get fucked by another man, and he’s going to be more than a little jealous that someone else gets to play with his princess on the night he gets home from an assignment? The thought alone is enough to set your skin on fire! The idea that you’re going to get in trouble with him? Only adds fuel to that fire! Then why are you holding back right now?

“Stop thinking about how you’re not his good little girl right now, sugar,” Sy growls, and the sound shoots straight to your already aching clit. “Be bad for me tonight, baby.”

His words cut through you in a way you don’t understand – until you do. You get to do that here, with him. You get to be bad without repercussions – as delicious as you find those repercussions under normal circumstances. He’s not going to punish you for mouthing off, or disobeying orders – he’s going to laugh and smirk at you in that unbearable way, and it’s going to rile you up beyond belief, and you can both just give in to all of that without any concern for the consequences. Because there won’t be any. Not from Sy, at least. And when tomorrow comes, and August decides that you need to be dealt with for going away the night he comes home from an assignment, then that’s okay. That will be a whole different game. That will have nothing to do with this. Right now, for the first time in a very long time, you are not under orders – and right now, for the first time ever, you realize just how much you’ve been craving that.

It's not like you haven’t tried with either of them. Of course you have! But after so much time in your comfortable, familiar dynamic, anything other seemed strange and off and… unenticingly vanilla. It was as if you were playing a part – as twisted as it sounds to insinuate that ‘Daddy’ and ‘Sir’ are the defaults, it’s truer than true in every conceivable way. You’ve been so busy trying to figure out how Sy would slot into your dynamic that you completely neglected to consider that he doesn’t. That he can be that break you sometimes crave from your wicked little games with Marshall and August. And that he might just land you in enough trouble to earn you some delectable punishment in the process – but only time will tell. Instead, every time you so much as dared to think he wouldn’t seamlessly slot into your existing relationship and the terms that come with that, you panicked, thinking that would be a bad thing, that you would lose him before you even got to know him. But now you see… It’s the whole damn point.

“Fuck me.” You speak the words carefully, as if you’re afraid to be wrong – and the stinging of your left cheek as Sy lands another firm smack on your ass does nothing to ease that feeling at first.

“That’s what I’m talkin’bout,” he chuckles, driving his cock into you again with one smooth, harsh thrust.

Soon, you couldn’t give a quarter fuck about handprints on the glass – or some slightly more indecent prints, for that matter – or that one window that’s open which means maybe someone outside might hear you. Let them! Sy’s hips slam against your ass at a brutal pace, rough fingertips dig into your hips with the same ferocity you’re used to from your other guys, but lacking the possessive hint theirs always do, until they disappear altogether.

“Come on, sugar,” he growls from behind you, “your turn.” You throw your hips back, savoring the low moans and deep grunts that escape Sy. Just when things start to get fun, he pulls out.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with you!” you protest teasingly. From the looks of it – and by that you mean; the arrogant fucking smirk on his face – he was more than counting on that, and before you know it, you’re no longer standing where you were standing.

Your personal philosophy is that any guy who pulls you up into his arms and tosses you on the bed like it’s absolutely fucking nothing is a keeper. That being said, Sy also scores well in the categories ‘great beard’, ‘hairy chest’ and ‘filthy mouth’, so there’s no chance you’re going to let him go anytime soon. You thought Marshall being the way he is was just a coincidence, but now that you find yourself falling head over heels for Sy, too, you have to admit to yourself that you have a bit of a type.

Now, normally, of course, that type would include ‘man willing to boss your little slut ass around like he owns you’, but as per your previous epiphany: not this one. Oh, he owns you, alright? But not like that.

Sy is on his back, and he’s managed to move you so you’re straddling his chest – which is apparently not where he wants you just yet, because he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you up until your pussy hovers over his face. Oh. Oh.

“C’mon, sugar,” Sy says, still with that unbearable grin, “sit.” Was that a question phrased as a command? It… it sure was! Being in this position gives you a weird amount – and kind – of confidence, and you smile down at him.

“Save a horse, right?” you quip, making him laugh as he gently guides you down until his mouth finally connects with your pussy. To your surprise, he doesn’t do anything, though, which leaves you looking down at him confused and far less confident than a few moments ago.

“This is a very loose interpretation of the word ‘sit’,” Sy mutters, sounding… disgruntled, “stop hovering.”

“Don’t you need to… like… breathe?” you ask, immediately regretting your decision on account of ‘what the fuck kind of stupid ass question is that even?’ The way Sy laughs makes you want to disappear into a hole in the ground.

“Sugar, as far as I’m concerned, it would be a goddamn fine way to go,” he assures you as he pulls you further down.

From then on, you can just forget about it; it’s hopeless. The view is divine – those devious, bright blue eyes smiling up at you… He’s cocky. A seriously arrogant jackass. But oh, God, does he deserve it, because he is very, very, good. Of course, you already knew that from this afternoon, but there’s something about this… towering over him and still being completely at his mercy, that has you losing control. You reach for the wall to support yourself and finally let yourself go as pleasure takes over, grinding your hips, riding Sy’s capable and eager tongue until you come all over his face. And by that you mean… all over it.

Crawling under the bed and curling up into an embarrassed little ball of shame isn’t an option, but if it was, oh boy, that’s where you’d be right now. Instead, you scramble to get away from him as quickly as possible, almost throwing yourself off the bed in the process. Of course, Sy catches you.

“I swear I didn’t even know… I’m so sorry…” The words come out quickly and they’re jumbled and half-finished and barely audible and… And Sy is having none of your apology. With one hand, he grabs your wrists and pulls you over his lap – it’s eerily reminiscent of what Marshall would do…

“Stop apologizing for wonderful things,” he says, punctuating the syllables with fierce, stinging slaps on your ass before he sits you up again. “You might wanna tell your boys you can do that, sugar.” The cocky grin is back on his face. “I’m willin’ to bet they’re not gonna stop tryin’ till they make it happen.”

“You’re not…”

“Shut up,” he says before kissing you. “It was amazing. Means I was doin’ my job right.” He winks at you – it’s silly, because he’s not very good at it. “C’mere.” Somehow, you end up straddling his thighs and nervously eyeing his night stand. “Take what you want, baby. Whatever you need from me.”

Fuck it! “Grab a condom,” you say. The fact that he does so immediately, surprises you a little. It’s not necessarily something you’re used to; giving commands and having them be obeyed on no one’s terms but yours.

He laughs when he sees the look on your face. “Now, don’t you go thinkin’ I’m yours to boss around, sugar,” he chuckles, “you just want what I want right now.”

“It’s fun to pretend, for a change,” you reply, making Sy laugh even harder.

“I’ll let you have at it sometime,” he says, much to your surprise. Marshall tries sometimes – August did once or twice, in the beginning – but neither of them could give up their desire to be in control. Sy pulls you away from the thought when he finishes putting on the condom and proceeds to grab your thighs to pull you forward – and then he hesitates. You look at him, your confusion burning in your eyes.

“Nothin’,” he says dismissively, “plenty of time.” A firm tug is all it takes to lower you onto his cock, and you shiver. It was not just the position before; he’s somehow just a lot to take. “C’mon sugar,” he says, signature grin spreading across his face, “ride me. Save a horse, right?” His mimicking your comment from before is accompanied by another botched wink. It’s plenty to make you laugh a little before you start bouncing on his cock.

Sy manages to divide his attention between your breasts quite nicely while you’re going absolutely insane with lust as you keep riding him for what feels like a very long time. At some point – and without asking for anyone’s permission – you lean back and reach between your bodies, drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re swearing and trembling… but you don’t stop. Sy is a little sad when you move away so far that he can’t keep his mouth on you, grumbling something about making up for lost time with them later. Your come around his cock a second time relatively quickly following the first, as you figured you’d have to race him to get there, but he seems…

“Are you getting close?” you mutter after you break the kiss you had him wrapped up in. Your thighs are starting to get a little sore, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

An apologetic grin appears on Sy’s face. “I hate to disappoint, sugar,” he says softly, “but I don’t think it’s gonna happen tonight. I was pretty damn nervous about this.” His words make you stop moving, allowing him to slip out of you, and you lie down next to him while he hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I, eh… Gotta take care of this,” he says before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. For some time, you wonder if he’s even planning on coming back, until he appears in the doorway again, seemingly back in full possession of that cocky attitude you love.

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t lie down next to you again – instead, he sits near the foot of the bed, grabbing you behind your knees and pushing your legs apart so he can get in between them. He doesn’t waste a single second this time around, diving right between your legs, his tongue practically glued to your clit for the duration of the whole thing – which you’re almost ashamed to admit is a matter of maybe two minutes, if that. He’s just better when he can use his hands, too.

“Fuck,” you gasp when he lies down next to you and wraps an arm around you, “Marshall gives good head, but you… incredible!” Litmus test. If he can’t stand hearing about the others… Then again, he already passed with flying colors when he insisted on leaving the curtains open so August could watch.

“It doesn’t hurt that you taste fantastic,” he laughs, not showing the slightest displeasure at being compared to your boyfriend – maybe because he was the one who ‘won’ the comparison… “I’m glad to be of service.”

You snuggle into his side, putting your head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. Sy pulls you closer, and the two of you lie there for a while, in silence, until he finally speaks again: “Never thought I could actually have you, yet here we are.” The comment is followed by a deep sigh, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest when you hear him say that. He likes you? He really likes you? But…

“If you didn’t think you could fall for me… What changed? When?” You don’t even know why you want to know. The answer to those questions is never something you really want to hear, right?

“Didn’t say that, sugar,” he says, “I said I never thought I could have you. For starters, you were in a relationship – you are in a relationship. Forgive me if I didn’t immediately consider that there could be room for me in that relationship.” He chuckles softly, and you fight back a moan. “Then August made his offer and I thought he meant… casually. I would have passed on that. You caught me off guard this afternoon. Did a fine job of distractin’ me, sugar, puttin’ that pussy in my face like that. Got me wonderin’ about the ‘what ifs’ for long enough to convince me it wouldn’t be casual.” You smile when you feel his lips on your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he pulls you even closer. Then, he sighs and turns his eyes to the ceiling. “I need some patience from you though. All of you.”

“Oh, no, we were planning on giving you absolutely no time to adjust to any of this,” you laugh, “orgy at my place next week, bring friends.” You squeal when Sy tickles your side.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sugar,” he laughs.

“Just out of curiosity… Is that even something you’d be up for at all?” Hopefully it’s clear that you’re referring to a more… immediate sharing-situation of… well… you.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits almost reluctantly, taking you by surprise. Surprise that is – apparently – evident on your face, because he scoffs and clarifies: “They were some long tours, sugar. Not exactly enough women to go around… Well, actually, ‘going around’ was exactly what… Doesn’t matter.” Ah. The tension in his voice tells you he won’t appreciate any follow-up questions, so you keep your mouth shut until he starts talking again. “Never like this, though. There were never any feelings involved.”

His words clearly imply that there are feelings involved now, which also tells you to proceed with caution. Of course it’s exactly what you want with him, but that just means you’re going to have to be that much more mindful of… everything. For the first time, you realize that all this time there has been a part of you that had wished this was something casual. A one-off. Just a date, and a great night, and nothing more than that. Feelings are what make this real, and if it’s real, that means things are going to change. You struggle to remember what it felt like when August first suggested Marshall as a second Dom for you – he never suggested a second boyfriend per se, but things just… turned out that way, eventually. Now, you’re having this conversation up front, which is strange, and remarkably difficult to navigate, because it doesn’t feel like a conversation the two of you can have and then just be done with it; there’s more people involved. So, you tell Sy that you’ll have to talk some things through with August and Marshall, too, and you almost cry when he sincerely tells you he understands. That he’d actually be worried if you didn’t.

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” you ask, running your fingers through his chest hair. There’s definitely one thing you still need to hash out, but you’re afraid to ask, since the outcome of that conversation may call for you to give up your cozy spot next to Sy.

“Are you stayin’ tonight, sugar?” Ah, so you’re going to have to dive right in, after all.

“If you’re alright with a potential nosy neighbor thinking whatever they’re going to be thinking, I’d love to stay,” you shrug.

“Do people know?” It’s obvious that he means: ‘Do people know about you and August and Marshall.” It’s also obvious that he’s still not quite comfortable putting your relationship in such concrete terms.

“We don’t advertise it, per se, we just… go about our lives. But we don’t hide. And if people ask – and we’ve had people butt in in the rudest ways – we tell them we’re in a committed and very happy non-monogamous relationship.” Your answer seems to clarify a bunch, but it leaves a question in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. “Does that give you enough to work with in case someone decides to meddle?”

Sy moves his head in a way that’s halfway between shaking it and nodding. “I’ll figure it out,” he sighs. “How ‘bout a shower?”

After a remarkably PG shower with disappointingly little shenanigans, you climb into bed, and immediately settle down against Sy’s warm body. A memory creeps into your brain, of the cold nights before Marshall, when August was away to do God knows what, and you were left alone. It had been almost impossible to sleep. Now, those nights are a thing of the past, and you can’t even remember when you’d last been forced to fall asleep without a pair of strong arms around you… As you slowly doze off in Sy’s arms, you half-consciously joke about that shower somehow being the least necessary one of the day.

“What’re you talkin’ about, sugar?” Sy chuckles behind you.

“I couldn’t very well meet you for dinner with Marshall’s cum on my face, now could I?” you say coyly – a little too coyly… He might think you had planned this! Which you honestly hadn’t… You’re simply very tired.

“God damn, sugar,” Sy laughs, “I understand why they share you. You’re a handful.”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #august walker x female reader #august walker x reader #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker smut #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #captain syverson #syverson #syverson fanfiction

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morethansky · 28 days

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As promised, my thoughts on Tech's fate.

If you think they changed their minds about revealing Tech to be alive, you might not want to read this. I'm not trying to debate or dissuade anyone; this is just my personal take.

Also, please be forewarned that this is quite Hunter critical. I love to write the man, but god, he’s so bad for my blood pressure.

This is still such a hard thing for me to talk about. To be honest, I ducked out of the TBB fandom between the time when i finished “i keep what i can of you” and S3 started because it felt like I couldn’t say what I thought without either hurting the people who thought Tech was dead and were traumatized or inciting the wrath of those believed he was alive, some of whom got so haughty and/or oddly hostile whenever any other possibilities were stated in their vicinity. It seems that after I left, the opposite started happening too? The hellish fandom ouroboros.

Anyway, so here are my unfiltered thoughts, because I might explode if I don't write them down. After I watched “Plan 99,” I thought Tech was dead, and I was extremely traumatized and hysterical about it. I remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and I stayed up till morning trying to process the sense of betrayal I felt and figure out what to do with the sweet little WIP I had been working on, which was about Tech and Wrecker facing the concept of death for the first time. (I have now rewritten it to be much darker but for Tech to live, and as CX-2, so I hope that proves I mean well with this post.)

Because it’s me and it’s media, I was not only traumatized but also furious. To be frank, I’m not usually this deeply affected by character deaths. I have written a lot of major character death fics and grief/mourning is a component of like 60 percent of my writing. In fact, when character deaths are done well, I think they’re fantastic. The worthy, well-done ones can make the characters shine even more brightly.

That is not the case here. Tech dies for literally nothing. The protagonists don’t achieve anything at all from it besides returning to square one, less a member. They don’t find the coordinates to Tantiss. They don’t find anything about who Hemlock is or what the Advanced Science Division does. They don’t overhear any vital intel from the meeting with all the Imperial bigwigs. They don’t gain any insight from Saw. They don’t even find out whether Crosshair was actually in captivity and whether his saying Plan 88 was him laying a trap for them or not.

And that is some of the worst messaging I’ve ever seen in a Y-7 American action cartoon. And believe me, I’ve watched a lot of them.

Allow me to beat the dead horse one last time. Finally, after two entire seasons of the show, a member of the main cast is like, “Hey, remember how Crosshair used to be one of us? Even if he kind of sucks, shouldn’t we help him? He did just try to warn us.” And I was ECSTATIC. Didn’t expect the autistic character to be the one to be like, no, fuck you, we should do the right thing no matter the risk (autistic characters are so often morally gray and it’s so frustrating), but I loved it so much! That’s me!!

…And then he literally dies because he wanted to do the right thing. Hunter, the character who does not want to help people, who rejects the idea of going to Eriadu and has to be convinced otherwise, IS PROVEN CORRECT. What the ever-loving fuck is that messaging? That’s right, kids—if you selflessly try to help other people, you’ll be killed. So maybe don’t bother, actually. And this show just underlines that message over and over again! The only people who matter are those you consider family. Everyone else can rot. In fact, people who are willing to risk their lives to help people are foolish and idealistic. The things Hunter says to Echo are repeatedly so fucked up ("When will it be enough?" Dude wtf???), and it's nuts that the show doesn't offer Hunter's narrow-minded perspective as a contrast to Echo's determination to do the right thing—it offers Echo as a contrast to Hunter's motivations to retire (which we understand because when the two of them split up, we follow Hunter instead of Echo—and not even in addition to Echo! He only shows up again because he's visiting Hunter's story!).

That’s straight-up American conservative ideology. I will never not be pissed at them for making the fucking deuteragonist—and a clone character at that—like that. And in Star Wars! The franchise that is overwhelmingly and consistently about fighting fascists! Made by the company founded and based in the Bay Area, the most progressive region of the country!!!

To be frank, I almost turned the TV off right then. But I thought, okay…a horrible way to get to it, but…maybe now is the moment? Maybe now they’ll finally join Echo and Rex, and be super determined to find Tantiss and Crosshair and the many other clones whose designations were on the roster—to complete the mission that Tech so passionately insisted on before he sacrificed himself.

BUT NO! Hunter immediately pressures Omega into going to Pabu. And why wouldn’t he? The narrative proved him right! By trying to do the right thing, Tech died. So we’ll just go back to ignoring the suffering of countless beings across the galaxy, including our own kind. Millions of straight-up metaphorical versions of us. Cool.

And then Omega gets captured. So because Tech wants to do the right thing, he dies, and because Omega agrees with him, she gets taken away. And then suddenly Hunter puts away Pabu entirely and becomes super gung-ho about finding her. Which is just…why did they write him like this. Why did they even have the conversation about Pabu?? Leaving it out would have made Hunter's motivations flow so much better. Because by introducing that, they invite the crucial question: Why was that what it took for him to stop running but losing Crosshair and Tech didn’t??? Because he only cares about this one child's well-being and it's his single motivation as a character???

A contingent of Crosshair fans have seemed to vocally dislike Hunter from the start because he left Crosshair, and I’m like no, you don’t understand. It’s not about the character, it’s about the writing. In some cases, it does end up being the character rather than the writing, and you can usually tell because the writing condemns that in the character. Not here though! Hunter's decisions throughout the show are celebrated by it. And Hunter gets his way, as we see now with them retiring on Pabu and ignoring the fight even as "the Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever." Thank god the finale at least posited that Echo was also right, which is kind of like the bare minimum they could've done in that regard.

So Tech’s death hit me particularly hard because it felt like just a waste of two entire episodes, a waste of an enjoyable character they had just given some really poignant depth, and a waste of the chance to give Hunter the character development I was desperate for—and also like a betrayal, a slap in the face, because it was like the show was saying that heroes are stupid, that Tech was foolish for wanting to do the right thing. Which is nuts given the rest of the SW animated oeuvre. And is fucking hurtful. And bad for kids.

So when the theories about Tech’s survival started floating around that night, I thought, okay, yeah, maybe this was such a stupid death and waste of screen time because it’s to set up something really cool. I could get behind that, even if the entire setup would still be faulty and honestly kind of repulsive to me.

I engulfed everyone’s theories in those weeks I spent mourning, desperate to be convinced—but as much as I wanted to believe there was a plan at work, I just couldn’t buy it 100 percent because…would the people who wrote this awful arc, and who made all the oddest choices possible at any given time throughout both seasons thus far, really intend to set up and execute something so well thought out and complex?

Of course not. People kept being like, “We have to trust the writers. They have a grand plan. They wouldn’t just throw away Tech. It would be ableist, and that’s why he’s not dead.” Like??? The show was already ableist! One of the main characters is disabled and his being disabled is specifically relevant to why he’s even in this squad and in this show—and it’s never remotely discussed! The closest is the most oblique reference ever to how Echo doesn't like to be alone. That's it. Just because they actually managed to write this wonderful moment about Tech being autistic doesn’t mean their track record was suddenly irrelevant! Killing off their neurodivergent character is exactly the kind of ableist shit they would do! And see now: Crosshair's hand. Also Echo suddenly having a hand after not having one for so long and it being completely untouched upon. It's par for the course!

So the Tech Lives theories all hinged on the writing being really clever, but I just. Already hated so much of the writing, and it felt way more likely that they were just continuing to be bad writers and continuing to go with the poorer plot choice option every single time they had the opportunity to go a direction that would be thought provoking and emotionally affecting.

I felt very much and very sadly proven right when the season started, and we got no mention of Tech being dead until the FIFTH episode. The Batch never talked about Crosshair and why he tried to kill them, so I guess why would they talk about Tech dying, sigh. And it was so bizarre how people were arguing that Omega and Crosshair's little exchange about Tech was super touching and gave us everything we needed. It absolutely did not! The fact that we couldn't agree on whether Crosshair even knew tells you everything you need to know about the wacky writing choices! Why was it so vague?? They literally could have added one word:

Crosshair: Did they teach you plan 72? Omega: Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans, before... Crosshair: Of course he did.

On that note, I began to feel uneasy about the fandom again, because it started feeling like an echo chamber, and I was worried everyone was getting too hyped about something that might not happen, and even if it did, might end up being some kind of poorly done fanservice. I started seeing a lot of defensive posts being like, “Well, the reason they’re not mentioning Tech is because he’s not dead, and you’re an idiot, unlike me, if you’re falling for their sneaky tricks.”

Like??? The prevalence of ride-or-die sentiments like that started making me feel like I was losing my grip on reality and watching a completely different show from everyone else. Wouldn’t the dramatic effect of Tech being alive be strengthened by the characters all mourning him, thus making us mourn him, thus making the plot twist that he’s alive even more effective?? Wouldn't the characters being shown to be affected by his death instead of just ignoring it be the most promising sign of his impending return?

To me, the characters not mourning Tech meant that the writers had put him aside and moved on (which is, again, terrible writing because it doesn’t give the viewers the space to grieve and then move on, and it makes the characters feel terribly heartless, which, well. At least they were consistent). And that blasé moving on made the possibility of him being dead WAY more likely to me. Of course they would kill their neurodivergent character and then just all but pretend it didn't happen. Of course they would act as if he had just been a convenient plot device! Of course they would only bring him up and act like they missed him when he wasn't there to miraculously do the characters' work for them and the writers' work for them! Fuck that so hard.

So then “Infiltration” and “Extraction” were a big surprise! I was like, oh, huh, guess I was totally wrong and they’re really doing it, wow. Okay, let’s see if they can actually pull it off. I liked the writing a lot better this season, so it felt more plausible that they were finally getting down to business. The fact that the clues felt so heavy handed was kind of weird to me, and I complained a lot about there not being red herrings, but I love a good Came Back Wrong story, so I was willing to believe I had been too pessimistic and cynical, as I often am.

After “Bad Territory” and “The Harbinger,” however, I started doubting it again. Fitting both this M-count mystery that had already taken up so much screen time plus a Tech Lives mystery just felt like a lot of ground to cover, and this was the show that couldn’t even seem to fit more than five seconds of the main characters being sad about the death of their squad mate. Did they really have what it would take to pace it?

Of course not!!!

After “Point of No Return,” I started to feel like if they did bring Tech back, it would be at the cost of it being done poorly. And to me, for his purported death AND his resurrection to be badly written would be way worse than just the former. And the draw of the whole Winter Soldier deal is the fallout; the guilt and doubt the characters harbor; the way they have to reckon with the fact that even if their loved one is back, they will never be the same again, because they did die in a way—and the less time allotted after a reveal like that, the fewer of those key things there would be, which would just make it feel so tacked on for cheap shock value and social media chatter. Especially because there had been so little buildup to such a thing at the beginning of the season. These writers' abilities are just not remotely close to Ed Brubaker's, y'all.

Then Rampart being introduced afterward felt like the death knell (oop) because it was a new plot thread they would need to wrap up by the end. But the Clone X thread was still dangling, so I felt like it wasn’t out of the question. But I guess after my complaints about the Tech connections being too obvious and there needing to be more red herrings, it turned out that the Tech connections themselves were the red herrings.

Although I feel like that's probably even giving the writers too much credit. I don't know if I really believe they were trying to mislead us. I feel like they just clumsily ended up doing things that coincided with the Tech Lives theories. Like I honestly wouldn't be surprised if when they used "domicile" it was completely without realizing they had previously had Tech say it and that this would lead to the viewers drawing an erroneous conclusion. They probably just wanted CX-2 to say something fancy and mysterious tbh, and the same words tend to float in writers' minds. Rip us.

I guess now I understand what I could never work out—if CX-2 was Tech, then why did he so specifically use rifles like Crosshair does and so proficiently, i.e. specifically better than Crosshair did? Why wouldn't he dual wield hand blasters?

Also, although I was in some ways relieved that at least they didn't write a bad resurrection for Tech, and there's absolutely no way it wouldn't have been shit if it'd just been shoved anywhere in the last three episodes, all this is not to say the Clone X concept didn't end up being super hamfisted as well. Just the fact that there are other Clone X types with different weapons and uniforms makes the concept even more confusing. Clearly these guys were meant to mirror the Batch, but then why did all the ones we encountered before CX-2 wear the same uniform as him?? Did they sort the clones into categories of which Clone X they would be? It would actually be cool if the point was to sow fear in the galaxy because it would seem like the person in the CX-2 suit was undefeatable, especially because they were completely covered and their build would be the same every time. But that would be too cool and coherent for this show, sigh.

Also, was Hemlock project managing them, or was Scorch? Neither really makes sense, but who was sending them after Rex's rebel cell? Was there a military higher-up giving the Advanced Science Division that directive? Why did CX-2 and the one that Rex's cell captured hate Crosshair so much? Why the fuck did CX-2 cut off his hand???

Anyway. I could go on forever, but I think at the end of the day, we all read too much into it because we are just collectively better writers than the writers are tbh. Sadly, a classic fandom experience. I guess what ultimately saved me the most from heartbreak and allowed me to earnestly enjoy the finale was that I had already spent a year believing Tech had died and suffered through my grief (by, you guessed it, writing a grief/mourning fic), and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no way these writers could pull off something so emotional and complex. I swear I didn’t actually want to be right!

I think if nothing else, one thing we can all agree on is that Tech surviving could’ve been one kickass story, and it was a hell of a missed opportunity.

#the bad batch spoilers #i'm also mad about tech but i think it's for a different reason than a lot of folks #okay no more meta for at least another week omg #i need to do some actual writing instead of using my brainpower to shout into the void #amph talks #tbb finale #plan 99

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fromriches-tosin · 6 months

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okay so whenever i see a reijean post, it’s mostly about jean helping reiner with trauma because ofc yeah but also we need to talk about reiner helping jean aswell specifically this:

so something i think that generally gets ignored both in fanon and canon is that jean and the other scouts are child soldiers aswell as the warriors. like obviously they weren’t as young as the warriors but jean was like 15-16?? when graduation happened so he must’ve been max 13 or so when joining. still far too young to be a solider. and because it’s in jeans nature, he’d obviously only focus on reiners trauma and put reiners experience first and then one day reiner’s like “jean you realize you were a child solider too” and jean just being like “???”. then it leads to reiner helping jean come to terms with it and coming to terms with the fact that he also was robbed at least partly of a childhood he deserved. and they both help each other heal because they love each yay.

sorry about the rambling

What personally annoys me the most is the fandom's tendency to reduce Jean's trauma to Marco's death. It's always "ah, he's sad because of Marco, he's broken because of Marco, he never makes peace with his death" – no. In Jean's case Marco's death is only the tip of the iceberg. It's what launches the avalanche of pain Jean gets buried under. That's why I'm always saying Marco's influence is both a blessing and a curse for Jean – a blessing because it makes him grow as a person. A curse because it pushes him into hell itself.

Jean is surrounded by death. He keeps losing his friends, comrades he considers family; he sees them eaten alive, sees hundreds of them obliterated by powers beyond their understanding. He loses Sasha and Hange – both of whom he cares about deeply. He is forced to walk on corpses, to make decisions no one else wants to make and to bid farewell to his humanity – something he cherishes the most.

He has to start killing and to come to terms with the fact that his lofty idea of living up to Marco's expectations was simply bullshit. Because just like the people responsible for Marco's death, he also turned into a murderer for the sake of "greater good". Some may argue that his sins are nothing in comparison to what the Warriors did, but they would be missing a very important point here: for Jean, every human life is precious. That's why he looks so heartbroken because of Floch. That's why it's so hard for him to let go of Eren. It's even difficult to judge what is worse for Jean: landing the first killing blow or realizing that he had spent years protecting a friend who eventually turned into a monster for his sake.

I love how differently Jean reacts to Sasha and Hange's respective deaths. When Sasha gets shot, he's clearly in shock, but remains collected enough to spare the child responsible for her demise. He's composed enough to be able to do his job until the very end – even though Sasha is bleeding out at his feet. When Hange dies, he breaks down and cries immediately. Perhaps he has reached some kind of limit (there must be a limit to how much a person can take, right?), perhaps he's thinking that he should have been the one to stay behind. It couldn't have been Mikasa, Levi or any of the Shifters, but why sacrifice the commander? As a squad leader, Jean might feel it was his job to make sure the others escape. His turn to die.

Jean is usually a very loud person, but he prefers to suffer in silence. It's much easier to address Reiner's pain because it's just so obvious – he tries to take his own life, he breaks down and can't stop talking about the terrible things he has done, he's a shadow of his former self. Jean appears more mentally stable, more in control of what he shows to the others. He keeps covering his ears when he's overwhelmed, keeps running away or hiding in the darkness when he can't take it anymore, but when he interacts with other people – he's composed again. It's only his eyes that show what he's going through.

In my fics I try to put some emphasis on Jean's trauma. In BE he is struggling with the aftermath of the Rumbling (and Reiner comforts him), in FSWL he's faced with the concept of being a child soldier and forced to kill someone he tried so hard to save. There's also that one little scene in NLMG which I like – when Reiner kills the brigands, Jean stops Gabi from even looking at the corpses. Jean recognizes the fact that children, any children, even trained Warriors, shouldn't see such things – the things he himself has been surrounded by for years.

And that's the thing when it comes to writing stories from Jean's POV – the thing you mentioned – he doesn't really pay that much attention to his own suffering. He puts others first. So, his trauma is somewhere there, lurking in the background, overshadowed by "more important" things, but we should definitely acknowledge it more often. And have Reiner comfort him. :3

#thanks for the ask ✨#reijean #reiner x jean #veecanons

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irkimatsu · 2 months

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I don't think I made a single OC during my time in Matsu fandom, but Hazbin's gotten my furry wheels spinning, god damn you. I'm gonna ramble under the cut to try to get my thoughts straight.

-Almaz (Nina Sinclair), squirrel, non-binary. An 80's one-hit-wonder who died in their 30's after self-destructing and overdosing on drugs, is in love with Husk. I've posted plenty about them before.

-Richard Brenning (hell name still undecided), white rabbit, died in his 50's, pansexual male. An 80's star like Almaz, but unlike Mazzie he got more than fifteen minutes of fame as a singer, reality star, and general tabloid menace. The "controversies and scandals" section of his Wikipedia page is longer than Mazzie's entire page. Absolutely covered in sparkles. I know his outfit includes a sparkly purple vest with nothing underneath, and I keep wanting to give him a hat, but Husk already has a top hat so I don't know what to do there just yet. An egotistical little shitheel at first, possibly an Overlord? Almaz looks up to him but he's a bit insensitive about the whole "one-hit-wonder who self-destructed, don't they all" thing. He'll chill out with some character development and eventually settle down with Angel Dust therefore freeing Husk for Almaz to pursue

-Clara? Originally made her to fill a request but I think I'm keeping her. Still need a last name for her, she keeps her birth name in hell. A small black bear, looks more like a teddy bear than a wild animal. Mainly dresses in floral print. Grew up with Alastor and knows he enjoys hunting, but is willfully ignoring the nastier aspects of her "big brother in spirit" in an attempt to preserve her happy childhood memories of him. Was born after Alastor but also died later than he did, in her 60's, I think? If that request stays canon to my OC's then she has a thing for Husk, but Husk is immediately bitter of her connection with Alastor, so that's not going anywhere. Still no idea what landed her in hell. Is "willful ignorance of the fact that your best friend is a serial killer" a sin?

And Husk's family, all of whom I still need to name:

-Husk's ex-wife was a black woman who lived in the middle of nowhere with nothing but her dreams. She moved to a rapidly growing Las Vegas in the 30's to chase those dreams, and started singing songs she wrote in the same bar where Husk would play saxophone with various bands. The two hit it off beautifully and had a wonderful marriage, with Husk spoiling her with gifts and trips and encouraging her singing and poetry... until everything fell apart because Husk just couldn't get his addictions under control, no matter how hard he tried. It's not his fault, exactly... it just sucks for everyone involved. Don't know what would have landed her in Hell, but I do want her to see Husk again so they can try to get some closure. ...and the pronoun use here is a bit strange because I think she'd realize she's transmasc while in hell? I want something where Husk's spouse thought they were a cishet woman in life, but due to Husk's own experience with the Las Vegas queer scene he always had his doubts about that... but he couldn't risk outing himself, so he never said anything while they were alive. They'll meet again, Husk will take their new gender identity in stride and finally get to come out to them as pansexual, maybe they'll try to rekindle their romance but the spark is fully dead on the spouse's side, Husk desperately needs this closure before he can pursue anyone else. He doesn't expect his spouse to forgive him, he just wants them to understand he never wanted to hurt his family...

-Husk's older daughters, twin girls. Still highly undeveloped, except that they stay close for their whole lives and Husk utterly spoiled them as much as he could while he was still able to see them. Husk has participated in princess teddy bear tea parties, I will die on that hill. They were preteens/early teens when their parents divorced, and a year or two after that their mother stopped letting Husk see them because he's a drunk deadbeat piece of shit. I'm so sorry, Husk. They started families of their own, Husk has grandkids, but he has no idea because his daughters never tried to re-establish contact with him in adulthood. They have their fond memories of him, but also some really shitty ones, especially after an event I'll be talking about in a moment. It's complicated.

-Husk's younger daughter, who I want to flesh out for one horrible reason... the idea of Husk losing his daughter in an accident, blaming himself for it for the rest of his life regardless of what he could have done to save her, and sinking further than ever into the addictions that would ruin his marriage in short order. I'm so sorry for doing this to you, everyone who's involved. She's in Heaven now, and if Husk ever ascends there will be tearful reunions god damn it please

I haven't decided on species for Husk's family, but none of them are cats; the cat thing is specific to him for his manner of life and death, figuratively drowning in alcohol before literally drowning in a lake. Cats hate water, after all. The others don't have that connection to cats. I'll figure them out eventually.

#irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts

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lonelylonelyghost · 2 months

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The Butterfly Effect

"Some stories were destined to be tragedies since the very beginning."

What price are you ready to pay in order to keep safe the person you love most? What if you are the reason they're in danger?

youtube

I've discovered it while trying to recover after finishing the series back in 2018. Needless to say, it didn't help at all, but it hurt so good, holy shit...

I don't know if many people in the Guardian fandom have seen this, but please check those videos out, it's simply amazing. It fits the canon characters so well, it might as well be their story in some kind of alternative but no less angsty universe.

And I still find myself returning to it again and again and again and again

The plot because it might be confusing (there is an explanation in the video descriptions too, this is just my interpretation, and I am insane):

Part 1.

Zhao Yunlan is greatly injured and Shen Wei manages to save him, though at great price to himself. And for a while everything is great until it isn't. Yunlan dies after Ye Zun's attack, and Shen Wei obviously can't let it stay that way, so uses the Holy Tools in order to go back in time and save his life.

But Zhao Yunlan keeps dying, one way or another. And Shen Wei keeps going back to the past. Again and again and again. Further and further. Until Shen Wei accepts that the only way to save Yunlan is for him to never appear in his life in the first place. So, he goes back to their first meeting 10 000 years ago, erases Zhao Yunlan's memories of him and then kills himself. A life for a life. And Yunlan is worth a thousand times over this.

Zhao Yunlan in the modern time meanwhile, keeps getting strange visions about a person whom he never actually met. He sees him everywhere, the visions of them together solving cases, taking walks and basking in the moonlight. Hears a voice saying his name in his dreams. But that can't be true, this person doesn't exist! Those phantom memories persist however, driving Yunlan mad, until one day something clicks and he remembers.

Part 2.

Zhao Yunlan gets all his memories of Shen Wei back when he accidentally comes in contact with the Holy Tools. How they have been together, and how he died and Shen Wei went to the past and sacrificed himself for him. And Zhao Yunlan can't accept that. He will bring Shen Wei back, no matter the cost. Because Shen Wei is worth everything and more.

So he gets the Holy Tools and goes back to the past, 10 000 years ago, when Shen Wei is still alive, and while he can't help but spend some time with him, but because he changed the events, all memories of him would disappear. Zhao Yunlan ends his own life, all for Shen Wei to have a shot at his own.

In the modern time meanwhile, professor Shen Wei keeps having strange visions about a person he has never met. The phantom memories of them together overlap with his reality, leaving him empty and in pain, yearning for someone who does not exist. And then he remembers.

And the endless time loop begins

#ghost's tales from the abyss #guardian #镇魂 #Shen Wei #Zhao Yunlan #my love for this drama is eternal like the love that Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan have for each other #it's still THE danmei adaptation for me #time loops #cdrama #these two videos have been driving me nuts for almost 6 years #Youtube

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exercise-of-trust · 7 months

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(springboarding off this post: i started writing a tag essay and then a reblog essay and then partway through quoting a large section of the hobbit i began to genuinely feel bad about derailing a fun post into *gestures* this shit, but unfortunately my single brain cell decided this was the only thing we were gonna think about all day.)

i think... the original post is tapping in to an acute dissonance in property-law-intuitions between these groups, and i think the dwarves would definitely have been inclined to take the feanorians' side. but i don't think the dwarves, or at least the dwarves of the third age, would be *confused* about it - this is (allegedly) the whole issue at the heart of the nauglamir business. they've had to deal with it too. (allegedly because we only have the narrator's word for it, but whatever*)

ignoring all the extraneous description/assumptions about motives: the stated argument of the dwarves in claiming the nauglamir is that thingol has no personal claim or connection to it. the dwarves gave it to finrod, who has since died and whose kingdom is in ruins, and húrin found it there ("took it as a thief") and gave it to thingol. but it was never meant to be his! and this is a common argument in fandom today on why thingol has no right to the silmaril and should never have demanded it (and certainly should not have kept it upon receipt). the flow is exactly the same: this item has found itself in a contested state because the original owner isn't currently capable of retrieving it; someone else brings it to thingol, who considers himself entitled to keep it because it was abandoned (the nauglamir) or owed (the silmaril) (kind of**).

but all of that to say - the dwarves have been dealing with the same shit, with even more disastrous results, for nearly as long as the feanorians, and they're well aware of it. in fact the nauglamir incident is pretty clearly what's being referenced in 'flies and spiders' in the hobbit, in what's probably the most even-handed retelling: "in ancient days [the elves] had had wars with some of the dwarves, whom they accused of stealing their treasure. it is only fair to say that the dwarves gave a different account, and said that they only took what was their due, for the elf-king had bargained with them to shape his raw gold and silver, and had afterwards refused to give them their pay." a little further down: "all this was well known to every dwarf, though thorin's family had had nothing to do with the old quarrel".

so - to the dwarves, the fact that non-noldor (or non-feanorian noldor) have weird takes on stolen property isn't just an academic or theoretical issue - they're on the feanorians' side because it's their story too. (which really makes the period of collaboration in hollin, and its eventual fall, all the more tragic).

but legolas and gimli go to fangorn, and to the glittering caves, and after a long-ass time of the feanorians (and eol) being the main point of contact and alliance between elves and dwarves based on existing common ground and common interests - gimli and legolas have nothing in common at all. but they love each other and they go west together and they learn to understand each other anyway, and i'm extremely emo about it.

*on the one hand it's no fun ignoring the text entirely when you're doing meta but also, on the other, the silm does have an in-universe writer with extremely obvious personal biases? so it becomes a matter of discretion when you want to ignore the parts that seem to be a result of unfounded prejudice or wild conjecture.

**in the most generous light i can see how the silmaril could be considered forfeit due to c&c's actions against beren and lúthien. that is THE MOST generous reading and i still have issues with it, namely a) thingol was explicitly hoping the feanorians would kill beren for him even if he made it out of angband alive, b) thingol... very much also did imprison lúthien for an extended period of time, c) iirc historically a weregild was a set price codified in law, or something agreed upon/voluntarily offered by the guilty party; you didn't just... take someone's stuff and say "weregild!" when they asked for it back. yes i know isildur and the ring, whatever, that is not generally how weregilds worked and isildur's claim appears to be invalid anyway (c.f. council of elrond; frodo says "then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!" when aragorn's descent is announced; aragorn responds "it does not belong to either of us"). this is a long tangent but in conclusion FUCK THINGOL

#lotr meta #silmarillion meta #and this is why my feanorian tag is #property law #..............#wtsinb #'what's that' It's A Surprise Tag That Will Help Us Later

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ohbutwheresyourheart · 7 months

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dante and/or the whole dmc 5 crew for the blorbo meme? :)

oh ho HO thank you for this, I love the DMC gang and don't talk about them enough

disclaimer/note to begin with: they all have pretty privelege and they all need to stop being put in situations, because that's just who they all are as people/chew toys of fate

second disclaimer: I made this post while drinking a big old bottle of beer so if this commentary goes off the rails the further you go down the post then that's why

also I'm putting these under a cut bc this got really long

first up: dante!!!

fewer boxes crossed off than I was expecting but when I sat down and thought about it there were some I couldn't justify, e.g. in my heart I want to believe I can fix him and he needs me but let's be real the only thing that ever had the power to fix Dante is getting his bro back </3

also I say most fandom takes are incorrect bc my main contact with the DMC fandom was back in the day where it was very common to portray Dante as this LOL SO RANDOM horndog (i.e. as if his projected persona was his... actual deep-seated personality) and I am a depression Dante truther. not sure what the current fandom mentality on Dante is, if things have moved on then disregard

next up: nero!!!

gonna be honest, I wasn't too fussed about Nero until DMC 5 and then he quickly leapfrogged into my heart because oh my god this poor, poor, POOR kid. born to be the straight man in a universe of wackos. trying SO HARD to keep this mess of a family on track but if you push him so help him sparda he WILL turn this car around.

I need more Nero. I need more Nero and Kyrie, specifically. I need to see them just living their average everyday lives where Nero slops his way home covered in demon guts and sluices off then puts a load of laundry on and helps Kyrie with dinner.

also hahahahahaa definitely nothing in there about growing up feeling like an outcast so thoroughly one might as well have had a fucked up demon appendage, nope, nothing like that!!!

V aka DOUBLE BINGO

I have a thing for pasty ass dark haired skinny twink vaguely feeble romantic poet creatures okay even though I would get so frustrated the tenth time I asked him a simple question and he replied with a blake quote

but also HE WAS HIS OWN PERSON he was REAL he was ALIVE and now he's NOT because he WASN'T VERGIL, he was HIMSELF, he was HUMAN, and now he's GONE but also he lives on but also V as an individual is GONE but they'll still see glimmers and hints of him in Vergil and be reminded of him but but but (bites fingers and screeches)

THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA

okay so all of my years of fangirling aside I have to be upfront that if I ever met Vergil I would want to tear his smug disdainful face apart with my bare hands in a matter of minutes

HOWEVER in the realm of fandom, the only reason he ranks lower than V is because V exudes that high fructose twink timothee chalamet energy

I cannot fix him. he does not need me. and yet. whomst among the ranks of Vergil fancreatures has not sat up late at night in their early/mid-teens frantically typing barely-disguised self-insert fanfic where we DO fix him, where we are the ONLY ones who can fix him, where we are the Eva to his Sparda, washing away the sins of his past and anointing him with love?

Vergil is the most anti-hero of all time. he has it all. he's a genocidal maniac, except maybe he isn't because maybe the qliphoth was going to grow there anyway and he just got in on the demonic gentrification scheme at the right moment. he literally has an unspeakably tormented and tortured past.

he has mommy issues. he has daddy issues. he has brother issues. he has son issues. he's a weeaboo. he loves poetry. he hates you, both generally and specifically. he has the hauteur and arrogance of christian fifty shades. underneath it all he just wants desperately to be loved and protected. his idea of bonding is a no-holes-barred beatdown.

he has an extremely weird obsession with his brother, whom he hates, but loves, but hates, but loves, but hates, but wants to spend forever with, but hates, but would kill anyone if they tried to hurt him. literally every bad thing he's ever done originally stemmed from the need to be strong enough to protect what he cares about (DANTE) because he can't go through losing his family again.

i love him <3

#devil may cry #dante #vergil #nero #ask meme

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batshieroglyphics · 1 year

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[FIC] To Be Free Once More (That's Worth Fighting For) ~ Star Wars: Prequels ~ Fox/Obi-Wan ~ Mature ~ Ch 5/15

Title: To Be Free Once More (That's Worth Fighting For) Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Era Author: Batsutousai Rating: Mature Warnings: Alternate Universe, Qui-Gon survives, Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan, Jedi culture positive, Coruscant Guard deserve better, clone trooper dehumanisation, institutional abuse, discrimination, learning to trust, Jedi and clone trooper relationships, strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love, trans/nonbinary/agender clone troopers, trans/nonbinary/agender Jedi, character deaths (Palpatine, some Corries, offscreen Jedi OCs; more detail in notes of relevant chapters) Summary: As a Jedi Shadow, Obi-Wan hadn't expected to have much to do with the clone troopers. Until, suddenly, he does.

CHAPTER FIVE

Finally, Mas Amedda called, "The chair recognises the representative from the republic system of Melidaan."

Roenni moved their pod out and up, so they were floating across from the chancellor's stand. "Chancellor, delegates," Roenni greeted perfunctorily. "I am certain that many of you expect this to be a derision of the war effort, and I will continue to hold that it is not war we should be engaging in, when diplomacy is still an option."

"I will remind the honour–"

"I am not finished," Roenni snapped, and whichever senator had attempted to interrupt shut up. "I do not support the war, but I do support our troops, because I have been a soldier, fighting in a war started by others, which I had no true stake in. I was nine, when our four generals—only three of whom are still alive, and have joined me in my pod—managed to force the hands of the adults of our planet and bring us to the table to discuss peace. We remember what that took, what war does to those fighting in it; I have more respect for those troopers and Jedi this body has forced to endanger themselves, than I have for anyone else in this chamber."

"Roenni," Obi-Wan murmured, sensing the rising anger in the Force, the way the other senators were gearing up for a fight, instead of to listen.

She took a breath, held it, and let it out, then said, "I apologise. It was not my intention to rehash old arguments. I fear that the oversight I discovered has brought up unpleasant memories."

She looked up, towards the Bormea sector's pod, and said, "You speak so sincerely, Senator Snopps, about the bravery and diligence of our troops, and yet, this body has left some of those troops—the ones on this very planet—without much-needed supplies.

"The Coruscant Guard were meant to be folded in to the Coruscant Security Forces," Roenni continued, flicking her fingers over the pod's controls, and causing a large holo of the relevant law to appear in the centre of the room, while smaller versions appeared above the control panels of all the pods. "However, this body made the choice to fold those forces into the main body of the Grand Army of the Republic just over a month later." Another document appeared as a holo, for all to see. "This addendum did not redistribute the Coruscant Security Forces' supplies to the Coruscant Guard."

Murmurs filled the room, concern and distress filling the Force.

"For over six months, the troops given the keeping of Coruscant have been without food, medical supplies, replacements for any equipment, or ammunition," Roenni commented, quiet and cold. "They have been hungry, and they have been hurting, and no one in this chamber cared to notice. They have stood guard at your decadent parties, have followed you as protection detail around the planet on your little shopping expeditions. They have suffered in silence, and we have let them.

"That ends now," Roenni snarled. "This body loves to dither and debate, but we will not do so this time. Our inaction has done damage enough to the Coruscant Guard, and it is our duty to vote so that this abuse ends today."

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

Don't be a Sith, share what you love by reblogging this chapter.

#foxywan #foxwan #fic:To Be Free Once More (That's Worth Fighting For)#pairing:Fox x Obi-Wan Kenobi #fandom:star wars

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frutavel · 3 months

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i saw you tagged an oc named samaela on my post. who are they im curious. please share with the class 👀

(aka “i made that post about a character archetype i love and getting to hear about new characters that fit that archetype is literally the best case scenario for me”)

Oh hi for the love of god hello!!!

This is Samaela. My babygirl. I desperately wish I had more recent art of her to share, but alas I don't. A quick scroll through my blog also shows that Most of the posts I've made talking about her are also a few years old and outdated at this point but rest assured I think about her Constantly.

Samaela is a World of Warcraft OC, and also one of my oldest OCs in general regardless of fandom/universe. Long story short, she's a Forsaken hunter with little to no memory of her past life but Vivid memory of her death (by werewolf) and a history of making bad decisions in the name of Living Deliciously.

She was resurrected post Death By Werewolf, and the process caused her to Become Werewolf. Sorta. She's a weird little fiend and an abomination even by undead standards, which leads to her necromancer running All Sorts of Tests and Experiements. Now those aren't as bad or nefarious as they sound, really, but Samaela gets tired of being a science project pretty quick, so she moves as far away from her necromancer as she can, makes a few friends and enters a 2-ish year long situationship with her Boybestfriend, during which she indulges in many bad habits such as hunting living humans for sport and eating them, which garners her a reputation for being vicious and needlessly cruel. She regrets some of it sometimes, mostly she doesn't care, and gets off mostly scotch free because she's very good at weaving stories that paint her in a good light, and her folks don't like humans anyway. Which just emboldens her.

(Here seen with her Boybestfriend, Tari, my other babygirl, after a bad hunt)

Eventually her Boybestfriend has to leave, and she is Very Sad about it but they part amicably. Unfortunately having her voice of reason and only person whom she trusted in this whole wide world move away makes her Worse. She continues to be Very Good At Lying, but still ends up in trouble with the authorities a handful of times, some friends turn their back on her as a result and she makes self preservation her number one priority. This leads to a sleuth of Decisions which eventually end up putting the life of someone at risk, someone Very Important to her Boybestfriend, and once he finds out their relationship cracks even more. She jumps to anger and resentment straight on and continues to push people away and make more Choices, until her own life is put at risk and she's forced to rethink.

Currently she's at this rethinking stage. She doesn't regret most of the things she did, but she regrets the things that affected her personally. Empathy is a hard concept for her to grasp, but she's willing to make an effort for her own sake. At her core she still wants to survive above all else, and if that means letting people help her..... well, she doesn't like it but she'll think about it.

Samaela is Difficult, and she will never not be. She needs a strong support system to help her, but unfortunately the mere thought of letting her walls down and being vulnerable makes her sick. She is hard to get along with and harder to like.... but a handful of people have gone through the effort it takes to love her all the same. That's enough for now to keep her from spiraling more, but her fate is very uncertain. She has many amends to make and she's not exactly willing to make all of them, but her self preservation instinct is so strong it might as well push her in that direction even if just to keep herself alive.

Despite her many Ls she has many Ws. Women want her. Men fear her. She fucks hard and nasty. She makes dioramas in her spare time. She is surprisingly good at keeping people safe. She likes the color green so much she always has at least One green acessory on her at all times. She's not very good at swimming but still loves the beach. She has a gender that can be best described as Indescribable. Woman, but watch out. She can also pretty effectively communicate with her hunting dogs due to her mutations, and her insides are so rancid due to the Experiments that getting bitten by her in an immediate death sentence, and she is quite fond of biting. Because of this some have taken to calling her Plaguehound <3

As for her previous life.... well that's a whole other mess. All I'll say is that she has two living siblings, one who hasn't given up looking for her, but neither one would recognize her now, and it's unlikely she'd recognize them either. She barely remembers enough about her human life to know her name, much less about her family.

In fact, she has met her older sister in the past. It didn't end well for the sister in question. Dog fights are gnarly 💖

#asks answered #gumy-shark #oc:samaela #she is a mess and i am deeply obsessed with her #her voiceclaim is glaze/woodentoaster. yes the rainbow factory/awoken/beyond her garden/nightmare night/prototype vip guy #her sister survived the encounter also but not unscathed and possibly traumatized #granted she attacked sammy first and sammy didn't know it was her sister but also #chances are nothing would have changed if sammy did know.#they never had the best relationship and sammy might not remember the reason but she remembers the spite #she and tari are sorta making amends. they will probably never be as close as they used to be anymore but they're making steps #not sure where they're going but they're goinf #she sorta made amends with her necromancer too. sammy still doesn't trust her with anything relating to her body tho

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connan-l · 2 months

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Made of lace

Fandom: Natsume’s Book of Friends Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hinoe/Benio, one-sided Hinoe/Reiko Natsume Summary: Hinoe gets a gift from a human. Benio doesn't get it, until she does. [Femslash February 2024 Day 12: Dress] Words: 7,253 Link: AO3 | Fanfiction.net

Notes: When are you going to bring back Benio Miss Midorikawa!!

Hinoe/Benio as a ship is funny to me — I mostly like them cause I think they’re very aesthetically pleasing, but concretely I’m not sure how well they’d actually work. In the tiny glimpses we get of their relationship it doesn’t seem like Hinoe likes Benio at all lol, and we don’t know what Benio’s feelings about her could be. But hey, that’s what fics are for. (Also, I guess technically they don’t entirely fit for Femfeb given yokai aren’t supposed to care much about gender — or at least Benio likely doesn’t. But well.)

Reiko gets mentioned a lot in this too and it was completely against my will… I didn’t intend to make her such a big part of the story but in the end that’s how it went. Sorry I guess I just love Reiko too much so I can’t help it haha.

Like I said in the tag, the Hinoe/Reiko is one-sided much like in canon; but although I don’t think she returned her feelings I do like the idea that Reiko was still fond of Hinoe in some way. It’s hard to tell what Reiko’s feelings on Hinoe were in canon given we only ever get Hinoe’s perspective, but I feel that’s something that might be implied too in the series.

* * *

The thing is, Benio don’t really understand the concept of caring.

Not for other yokai, and certainly, especially not for humans. She does understand it for herself, though; she certainly care about staying alive and feeling content and being entertained. But other people or beings or whatever they might be — that’s something she’s never managed to muster the slightest care for.

Benio lives for herself first and foremost, and truthfully, most ayakashi do as well.

She does understand the concept of respect, though. There are some yokai, usually the powerful ones, that she respects and whom she doesn’t like seeing disrespected. This is the case, for instance, of Lord Riou.

Benio has known Lord Riou for as long as she could remember — she has no idea who between the two of them is the oldest, but through their centuries of mutual coexistence, they probably share a similar lifespan. Ayakashi never pay much attention to time, after all; such a silly, superficial thing best left to the humans.

But Lord Riou does pay attention to time. He pays attention to respect, too — but where he deviates from Benio and most other inhabitants of the forest, is that he also respect, weirdly enough, the humans. That’s the odd particuliarity about Lord Riou — he cares, too much, about too many things. Useless things, like the humans. He cares about making the yokai of the forest, who venerate him like a king, respect humans too. “They’re living creatures just like us,” he said once. “So if you want to keep living on my territory, then you have to let them live in peace as well. I will not tolerate anything else.”

This is utterly ridiculous to Benio, and she knows most yokai think that way as well — after all, what good humans are really for? Poor frail little things, most of them not even capable of just sensing their presence, making a mess of everything that cross their path. They’re only good to torment and to eat for dinner — and even then not all of them are tasty. Most of the forest inhabitants think like this, but they still respect Riou too much to dare challenge him. Lord Riou is powerful, after all — and although he might be about the same age as Benio, he is definitely much, much stronger. And strength is law in their world.

But even with all this strength, Lord Riou never touch humans — because, for some stupid, unfathomable reason, Lord Riou loves them. He often disguises himself as one of their kin, spend time in their villages, play around, talk, laugh with them. And whenever he comes back, there’s a brightness in his eyes, an awed look on his face; and the wonder radiating from his being sometimes even makes it hard to just look at him. Because it makes Benio ponders what on earth he might’ve found in the human village that gave him this expression — what on earth might’ve gotten him to care so much.

“He got his heart stolen,” Lady Hinoe says during a party before laughing loudly. “What a pitiful thing.”

Benio doesn’t know Lady Hinoe very much. She’d seen her and talked to her a few times here and there, and she had heard of her even before that. Hinoe is quite famous around here, after all; the bearer of curses who loves stealing the hearts of innocent, pretty humans girls only to torment them later on — and who does much worse to human men. She’s among the only ayakashi allowed to speak poorly of Lord Riou in these parts, because she is also very strong and anyone daring to criticizes her would get themselves cursed.

They say she is actually a real romantic despite her habit of breaking human girls’ hearts — and that she goes around looking for female yokai lovers in desperate search of her one true love. Benio thinks this particular part is ridiculous — romance means caring, and caring is something that would never makes any sense to her. Yokai who so desperately tries to replicate humans’ stupid relationships and customs are the most abject of beings to her. Nevertheless, she has to admit that a part of her cannot help but be interested by Lady Hinoe. She is quite powerful and elegant and gorgeous, after all, and Benio loves beauty. She’ll always be a butterfly at heart, unable to resist the attraction of shiny pretty things. However, she does find Lady Hinoe too boisterous for her tastes, often lacking in delicacy, and so that actively discourages her to get any closer to her.

She thinks, however, that Lady Hinoe must be right about Lord Riou this time. He must have gotten a part of him stolen by the humans; and in turns, he often come back with things he took from them, too.

“I haven’t stolen anything from them, Benio,” he replies to her once, after pulling out an ugly fake puppy made of cotton he’d gotten from that human hunter he mentions regularly. Riou always takes the appearance of a child when he goes to the village, so that might be why the hunter thought he’d like a stuffed animal. “He gave it to me. As my friend.”

Benio snorts, and manage to not roll her eyes. “Friend. And what are you going to even do with this, Lord Riou?”

“Cherish it, of course. This is what gifts from people you love are for, don’t you agree?”

Benio huffs, and thinks, I don’t love people, even less so if these people are humans. And while she doesn’t say it out loud, Riou seems to read it on her face, because then he gives her a strange, fond look, and gently smile at her.

Benio thinks she hates that smile. Such a soft thing is unbefitting of being on the face of one of the strongest yokai she knows, one who rule over the forest.

“That’s a sad thing to not agree on. I hope you do, one day.”

And then Benio actually let herself laugh.

What a ridiculous king. She wishes she didn’t respect him as much.

* * *

Reiko Natsume. Lady Natsume. Natsume of the Book of Friends. Or, sometimes, just ‘Reiko’ or just ‘Natsume.’

Benio doesn’t really remember when that human’s name started spreading like wildfire among yokai, but the moment it did it seemed to be all they could talk about. She seemed like a disease, almost; poisoning and destroying everything on her way. She mercilessly took the names of any who dared to oppose her, weaponizing such terrifying powers, and she quickly became a legend among the forest and mountains; a girl as powerful as a god and as scary as an oni.

Among all these rumors, Benio can’t really tell the truth from the lie, but no one is spared. Even Lord Riou gets challenged by her and, stunningly, actually loses — which the whole forest still hasn’t gotten over. And, maybe unsurprisingly, even Lord Madara and Lady Hinoe seems taken by the strange phenomenon.

“Lord Madara, what’s going on with Lady Hinoe?” Benio asks the large wolfish creature one night.

Benio has known Madara for quite some time; although much like Riou, she wouldn’t be able to tell how many. He is older than her, though, she is pretty sure; older than most ayakashi around, really. Much like Benio, he doesn’t like people, yokai or humans — so that’s a rarity to see him at a party. The only thing the grumpy Lord Madara seems to enjoy is his sake, but he generally prefer to enjoy it alone; that’s why Benio was so surprised to see him here tonight.

Although he does seem more social lately, for some reason. Coincidentally since Natsume has started hanging around here. Madara is hard to get along with, but Benio finds him amusing. He is always complaining and trying to keep his distance with everyone, but at the end of the day, he is not that different from Lord Riou — both have a heart way too soft for all the power they possesses; but the difference is that Lord Riou wear that heart in his sleeve, while Lord Madara tries to hide it has much as possible.

The beast slurps at his large cup of sake, then snorts as his gaze poise on the blue-haired yokai slumped against a tree. She’s alone, frowning, and clearly not having a great time. In fact, it doesn’t even seem like she wants to be here at all.

“She’s gotten rejected by Natsume,” he explains, and Benio arches an eyebrow.

“Natsume? Did she stole her name?”

“Worse. She stole her heart.”

Benio blinks. Doesn’t really understand the meaning of that until long, long seconds later.

“What?”

“Natsume didn’t even want her name. Hinoe got smitten, but the girl doesn’t want to have anything to do with her.”

“S— Smitten? Lady Hinoe? With a human?”

That sounds so ridiculous Benio can’t even wrap her mind around it. Lady Hinoe fooled around with human girls a lot, but only to torment them. She certainly never had any real feelings for them. Even a yokai falling for another yokai in itself was ludicrous, so for a human?

How shameful. Disgusting. Benio can’t even bear the idea.

“The girl turned her trick on her,” Lord Madara continues. “How pathetic.”

“You say this as if you don’t spend all your time hanging out around that Natsume human as well,” another ayakashi throws at Lord Madara, and then a couple others chuckles. The moment the old wolf glares at them, however, they cut it off instantly.

It is true, though. Benio has heard about Lord Madara’s strange habit to spend time with the girl as well. Which is even more mesmerizing than Lady Hinoe’s newfound love to her, given how much he hates people. Not that she’d actually say that to his face, of course — she values her life too much.

Benio sighs, then, after a moment of consideration, she leaves Lord Madara’s side and approaches Lady Hinoe. She sit down next to her, but Hinoe barely acknowledges her presence.

“Good evening, Lady Hinoe. Don’t you look lovely tonight,” she says, and Hinoe huffs.

“Go away, Benio. I don’t want to entertain you.”

“So that is true, then? You got infatuated with some human? How disgraceful.”

“Reiko isn’t ‘some human.’ Watch your tongue.”

Benio scoffs. “What is so special about that girl, anyway? Is she the big one true love you’ve been looking for?”

Finally, Lady Hinoe turns her head towards her, red eyes glaring and red lips tight with anger. Benio don’t look away. Lady Hinoe is stronger than her, but that doesn’t mean Benio fear her, either.

“Someone like you could never understand.”

And Hinoe’s probably right, too. Benio never cared for caring about anyone but her, after all.

Even so, she doesn’t leave Lady Hinoe. She stays there, next to her, for the rest of the party — and it’s not to comfort her, certainly not, but even Benio wouldn’t be able to tell a reason if anyone asked.

* * *

Benio finds out what the big deal about Reiko Natsume is not long after that.

It all happens very quickly; one moment she was simply leisurely walking down the river as usual, and the next she found herself spectator of a conflict between a young girl and a dozen of tsuchigumo wanting to skin her alive. The human has no problem taking them down all at once thanks to a weird long, polished stick covered in talismans, and Benio watches the whole thing take place without a sound, a little bemused. She wasn’t going to feel bad for the tsuchigumo — as a butterfly yokai herself she very much was not their biggest fan — but she did feel quite baffled a little human girl was able to demonstrate such a show of strength.

It doesn't take long for Benio to realize that this girl was none other than the infamous Reiko Natsume, owner of the Book of Friends — after all, who else could it be? There certainly were no other human around that would fit the description. When she noticed Benio’s presence after her showdown with the tsuchigumo, Natsume grinned and challenged her to a match — but Benio liked her name and independence too much to accept it. She changed into a butterfly and flew off before the girl could say anything more, and she seemed quite shocked to have been rebutted that way. Benio supposes that didn’t happen very often to her, after all — and she would learn later the only other ayakashi who had ever refused one of her games was Lord Madara himself.

Benio kept catching glimpses of Reiko Natsume here and there after that. Sometimes with Madara, sometimes with Hinoe, sometimes alone. And… well — for as much as Benio had been pretty annoyed by the obsession the yokai of the forest had for that child, right now, she had to admit that she did start to feel intrigued. At least a little. There was definitely something… special, emanating from this girl. She was just so different from other humans, so mesmerizing; a little scary, a little endearing, a little sad; and it was hard not to be captivated. She was also quite pretty, with her long silver hair and sharp green eyes — and on that sense, Benio supposed Lady Hinoe didn’t have bad tastes. Benio was not, would never be, enthralled by such a creature — Benio did not care. But the more she caught sight of the little human girl, the more the ambient fascination made sense.

But at the very least she felt relieved that she would never behave as ridiculously as Lady Hinoe when it came to Reiko Natsume. The poor thing seemed to have completely thrown her pride away; whenever the girl was around or even just mentioned, she would become so utterly joyful, ecstatic, euphoric. Desperate to get her attention or please her in anyway. Benio had never seen her like that before, ever.

And despite how beautiful Lady Hinoe usually was, Benio could barely stand to stare at her in that state.

It is during one sunny summer morning that Benio comes across Lady Hinoe in the strangest form of all. She is, as often lately, in a particular good mood; humming to herself, spinning around like a little child with a big smile; but her expression isn’t the only strange thing. What she’s wearing is.

This is a dress. A human dress, Benio presumes — and more than presumes, actually, she realizes while scrunching her nose because that thing stinks of humans. How is Lady Hinoe able to wear this without throwing up is baffling.

It is of a delicate, deep scarlet color, all in lace and fluff, tightening Lady Hinoe’s silhouette from the shoulders to the knee and leaving her arms completely bare. Maybe Benio would find it pretty if it wasn’t for the fact this is something clearly made for humans by humans, and humans are the ugliest thing in the world.

(Well, except Reiko Natsume, but she does not count. Benio sometimes even doubt that this girl is human at all.)

Lady Hinoe finally notices her presence as she stops being busy contemplating her silhouette in the surface of the river. She turns around, her strawberry lips matching her eyes and dress smiling brightly at her — and if Benio’s heart twitches a little at the sight, well, she simply ignores it, like she does most things she doesn’t like. Lady Hinoe must be in an especially good mood today for her to smile like this at Benio of all people, instead of her face crumpling in distaste like she usually does upon seeing her.

“Oh ho! Look who’s here, if that isn’t Benio.” She spins around once again, then take a pan of her dress in order to show off the outfit. “How do I look?”

Benio arches an eyebrow at her cheerfulness. “Human.”

She can’t help it. She certainly would never gave a compliment to anyone when they’re wearing something man-made, and even less so to Lady Hinoe.

The bearer of curses groan, then roll her eyes. “Well, yes, it is.”

“And you’re still wearing it.”

“I do. I don’t like human things, but this one is different.”

“Different how so?”

Hinoe grins, almost smugly, as if she knows a secret nobody else knows. “Reiko gave it to me.”

Somehow, that might explains the blasphemous sight of a yokai wearing humans’ clothes she has in front of her, but that only manage to make Benio feel even more confused.

“Why would she do that?”

Finally, Lady Hinoe’s smile falter a little at this, and a slight frown take its place instead. “That, I’m not really sure. She just told me she ended up getting this dress, but she doesn’t like it, so she gave it to me instead.”

“How nice of her.”

“Isn’t it? To think I’m the first woman she thinks of when she needs to give a dress to someone!”

And she is sincere, too. Her red eyes are shining, her cheeks are tainted of a slight blush and her smile is so big it might threaten to swallow her whole face. She looks so happy, and so in love, and Benio’s mouth turns to ashes.

She cannot believe how delusional Lady Hinoe is when it comes to Reiko Natsume. She doesn’t even have the heart to point out the poor lonely girl probably doesn’t even know any other woman besides Hinoe — as much as a yokai can be called a ‘woman,’ anyway — and that she literally said she did not like that dress. It isn’t a sweet, thoughtful gift, more like something Natsume didn’t know what to do with and threw at Lady Hinoe at random because she wanted to get rid of it.

(Although truthfully, why didn’t she just threw it in the trash then is a bit of a mystery.)

But Lady Hinoe doesn’t even seem to care about any of that. To her, it is a nice gesture from Natsume towards her, specifically — and so she accepts it like birds throwing themselves at bread crumbs.

“She even called me beautiful, you know? She said it’d fit me. So I’ve decided I was just going to wear it all the time now. Maybe then she’ll keep calling me beautiful!”

“I think she’d rather you stop following her around like that all the time. Doesn’t humans have a word for that? And they threw people in cages for it as well?”

Lady Hinoe rolls her eyes. “I don’t ‘follow her around all the time.’ And anyway, that’s not the topic now. You still haven’t answered my question. Do I look good? I think I’ll try a new haircut too, so I need to know.”

Benio feels like she’s facing a strange dilemma. There can only be one response to this question, because truthfully Lady Hinoe is beautiful and, objectively speaking, so is this dress despite its… humanness, so there’s no way she cannot say yes. But the whole perspective of Lady Hinoe, the cruel, powerful bearer of curses, dressing up in a human dress just to pleases a human girl and having the slight, slight chance of gaining a little bit of her care, is so nauseating to Benio.

She may understand the fascination for Natsume, but she just cannot, no matter what, wrap her mind around why Lady Hinoe let herself degrade herself like this that badly.

“You know she’s going to die one day, right?” She says instead of replying. “Quicker than you’ll realize, too. One day you’ll blink and she’ll be all wrinkled and gray-haired and she’ll be a rotting corpse before you even notice it. You know that, right?”

And Benio doesn’t think she’s being particularly cruel here — this is something only normal, logical, to know about. This is one of the reasons why caring for humans — for anyone, really, but especially for humans — is so utterly ridiculous.

This is why Benio refuses to be as stupid as Lady Hinoe and Lord Madara and all those other dull-witted yokai who got their names and hearts stolen and yearn endlessly for the affection of a girl who doesn’t even know how to love.

Benio may enjoy Reiko Natsume, may have fun watching her dominates the forest — but she’ll never, ever allows herself to love her.

But then at her words Hinoe’s face crumple. It feels as if Benio told her the most evil thing she’s ever heard, and she first briefly looks afflicted before quickly switching to anger — and Benio instinctively flinch, then, because an angry Lady Hinoe is never something good to witness.

“Right,” she says with so much spite Benio feel a chill going down her spine. “I don’t know why I even bothered to ask you. I don’t care what you think. Go be a miserable, bitter insect and die all alone in a corner without anyone caring for you.”

And then Lady Hinoe simply turns around and leaves, and Benio thinks she would’ve preferred she put a curse on her instead. Although she feels a little like she was forced to suddenly swallows a thousands of needles, so maybe she did curse her after all, Benio just hasn’t noticed it.

Once the shock fade away, however, it is Benio’s turn to feel angry. Because who is being the fool here, really? Benio is the one who’s going to die alone and miserable, when Hinoe’s the idiot pinning for a mortal girl she’ll never have?

Benio may die alone, one day, in a few thousands of centuries, but she will most certainly not die miserable.

Because unlike Hinoe, and Madara, and Riou and all those other mindless dunces, she knows perfectly what to expects from life and doesn’t try to yearn for anything more.

On that sense, she is pretty sure that she and Reiko Natsume are exactly the same.

* * *

The day the owner of the Book of Friends disappears plunge the forest into deep, deep mourning.

So many of the forest inhabitants looks for her, begs for her presence, calls her name — but as usual, Reiko Natsume is cold and unfeeling and she never, ever calls anyone back.

Benio has no idea what happened to her, but one day she just stopped coming — and that shouldn’t be surprising, really, with that whimsical girl, but it doesn’t change the feeling of something being suddenly missing. Benio doesn’t really think she’s dead — because truthfully, no matter how much she made fun of Lady Hinoe for seemingly thinking Reiko Natsume would always be here, there’s something a little… everlasting, about that girl. She is a human, a mortal, but she doesn’t really seems like one — so the idea of anyone getting the best of her sounds ludicrous.

But she stops coming. Regardless of what actually happened to her, that still means she’s not here anymore; and so she might as well be dead. Most yokai around seems to understand that and starts mourning her as such. Even Lord Misuzu of the swamp has become much more quieter than usual.

This is also followed by the disappearance of Lord Riou — and then of Lord Madara. It almost feels like the girl took those two down with her, even if she feels that can’t be right. Although it might be for Lord Madara. He was, after all, spending most of his time with her, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he was somehow involved in her sudden vanishment.

Benio doesn’t mourn. She never cared for Reiko Natsume, she keeps repeating to herself — so whether she comes or not to the forest anymore, it is none of business.

Benio doesn’t mourn, and doesn’t care — but sometimes, ever so slightly, she feels like she can catch the sight of a silver thread behind a tree, of a fluttering skirt at the detour of a bushes, the swing of a stick covered in talismans whenever she sees a tsuchigumo; and every time she’s proven to be wrong, she feels her heart deflates in disappointment, in a strange sadness that she doesn’t quite understand. Doesn’t really let herself understand.

That’s an ache in her chest that an uncaring person like her doesn’t need — that she swore to herself she would never feel, and she just… doesn’t know what to do with it.

She tries to bear it; doesn’t have any other choice. Hopes it’ll fade away with time.

(It doesn’t.

And then she feels like the biggest fool of them all — because for as much as she looked down on all those other yokai who let themselves gets attached, she’s really not that different.

She preserved her name, but her heart was snatched away regardless.)

That aches that Benio feels, however, is clearly nothing in comparison to what Lady Hinoe must feel.

Truthfully, she doesn’t really sees her in the days and weeks and months that follows Natsume’s disappearance. Mostly because Hinoe spend all this time looking for her, and the few times Benio catch sight of her is when she’s coming back to the forest, alone and empty handed and with eyes darker than hell itself. Benio vaguely heard rumors of Natsume and Hinoe having had a falling out of sorts before she left, so she wonders if maybe, on top of missing her, Hinoe simply feels guilty. Maybe she thinks Natsume is deliberately ignoring her; which, for all she knows, might actually be true. She looks like a ghost, wandering around looking for the girl, doing favors for random yokai so that they might maybe give her the slightest bit of information about her lost beloved.

None of it works, of course, because Benio has no doubt that if Reiko Natsume doesn’t want to be found, no one will be able to do it. So the months and years goes by, and Lady Hinoe looks more and more wretched; just a shadow of her former glorious self. She has no interest in tricking and tormenting young girls anymore, no interest in the parties and sake, no interest in throwing curse around just because she can. The yokai still speak about Natsume of the Book of Friends, in discreet whispers and awed voices, but the more time flow by with no sight of the girl, and the more she feels like an actual legend, sometimes posing doubt as to whether she even really existed in the first place.

One day, Benio come across Lady Hinoe in the dim light of a clearing. She’s all alone, her long blue hair cascading her shoulders, wearing her usual kimono. She’s staring down at something, on the ground, with vacant eyes.

Benio wishes she could say meeting Lady Hinoe here is a coincidence, like it is most times, but… it isn’t. She’s actually been keeping an eye on her for some time now, even tracking her around. If Hinoe noticed that, she did not make any mentions of it.

Benio doesn’t do it because she cares. She doesn’t. This is just… out of curiosity. To sees what Lady Hinoe intends to do next.

And that pitiful sight in front of her — a disheveled woman, shadow of the mighty, feared yokai she used to be, also does nothing to her heart. No ache at all. Benio doesn’t feel angry in the slightest about seeing someone as powerful and beautiful as Lady Hinoe in such a state, when she should know better — when she should’ve known better from the start.

“You knew she was going to leave at some point, right?” Benio asks. Lady Hinoe doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move. “If not leave, she would have died one day. Or what? Did you think you could convince her to stay here her whole life? That you would’ve been able to — turn her into one of us, somehow?”

Not that it would’ve been impossible. Humans turning into yokai are not uncommon, after all; although Benio herself has met very few of them. And for someone as unhappy, lonely and powerful as Reiko Natsume, who had already been shunned by her own kin and sometimes even barely felt human at all — well, honestly, it probably wouldn’t have have been that hard or surprising. Though the idea very much repulse Benio.

In some way, humans are much like butterflies; they live only for an instant and disappear just as soon — but there's still a major difference between them, and it's their ways of life. Benio was blessed to become a yokai, but humans should just stay humans. They do not possesses the aptitude to becomes eternal creatures defying their fates. Is that any wonder that every human-turned-yokai she’s heard of are miserable beings that are only talked about as tragedies, unable to truly fit in and accept their newfound condition? Benio never missed her past before turning into a yokai, but that’s because she used to only be a mindless insect with no dreams or wishes of her own. A human, on the other hand, would always mourn the former life they got robbed of.

But this is also the only thing that Benio have over Reiko Natsume. She’ll never be as strong or as fascinating as her or win over Lady Hinoe’s heart as thoroughly as she did, but at least Benio would get to share that eternal life with Hinoe.

“I knew,” Lady Hinoe suddenly says without looking up from the ground, almost surprising Benio. “I knew… that she was going to be gone one day.” She chuckles, but it sounds empty, even to Benio’s ears. “Truthfully, I also knew she didn’t care much for me. I’m not like Madara; I was only one of many yokai to her — and she probably has already forgotten all about me. She didn’t even judge me interesting enough to have in her Book.”

Benio doesn’t point out Lord Madara wasn’t in the Book of Friends either. She isn’t sure what it means, if it means anything at all; but she doesn’t think her name being in the Book or not is any indication of Natsume’s feelings for Lady Hinoe either way.

But it’s not like it matter much anymore.

Reiko Natsume is gone, so no one will ever be able to tell.

“Why are you still here?” Lady Hinoe asks, and suddenly she lifts her head towards Benio.

Her ruby eyes are very dark, very empty; and Benio… Benio, as it has often been the case in the last few years, can’t stand to look at them. Can’t stand to see her eyes so dull and dead.

That is not a look that the great Lady Hinoe, bearer of the curses, should have.

She might have found her disgusting, but she would take back the lively, cheerful Lady Hinoe in love any day over this one.

So for once, Benio decides to be honest.

“I thought you would need the company.”

Lady Hinoe stares at her in silence. It is like she is trying to gauge the veracity of those words, and Benio actually wishes she can tell that she is being honest.

But then the moment is gone, and Hinoe just laughs.

“I don’t want company.”

Lady Hinoe turns around, and it is only now that Benio realizes what the other ayakashi has been staring at all this time on the ground: the scarlet human dress. It looks dirty and teared apart at the seams, and Benio looks down at it curiously, as if not comprehending what she’s seeing.

Hinoe cared so much for that dress. Treasured it so much, like a precious diamond; like it was Reiko Natsume herself. And now she just decided to leave it on the ground carelessly, letting it get dirtied and muddied by the forest like that?

“That dress…”

“I don’t need it anymore. I doubt Reiko cared that much about it anyway.”

Lady Hinoe leaves, long hair sweeping in her back, not even sparing a single glance at the dress or Benio.

And Benio, miserably, shamefully, pathetically, aches.

She aches at Reiko Natsume’s departure, she aches at Hinoe’s pitiful state, she aches at the pretty human dress, the cherished gift, now drowning in mud all by itself.

Benio never know how to handle that ache — so in an attempt to soothe it, she bends down and get back the piece of cloth.

* * *

Reiko Natsume’s grandson is just like her and just not like her in all the parts that matters.

Their physical resemblance is striking; so much it is a little disturbing to see. He has her face and her eyes and her hair and her frightening powers, but his smile is genuine and kind, his voice is soft, his words friendly. Whereas Reiko only communicated through fighting and stealing, Takashi talks and gives back. Benio cannot stop thinking about his statement, when she first met him, about him wanting to be “a bridge between humans and yokai.”

How ridiculous, she’d thought then. But the more she watches him — the more good he’s able to do throughout the forest and the more yokai he’s able to help — the more a part of her feel this wish might not just be some stupid throwaway words.

He cares too much, just like Riou and Madara and Hinoe, and as Benio keeps on watching him, she wonders when that caring is inevitably going to cost him.

Just like what happened to Lord Riou. Although he might be back now, that caring took so much out of him that he decided to swear off seeing humans ever again. And Benio is glad for him, too. She certainly doesn’t understand how anyone would to keep doing this after getting hurt this badly.

She thought Lady Hinoe and Lord Madara would have come to the same conclusion as Lord Riou after what happened with Reiko Natsume too — but, bewilderingly, they don’t. It seems the both of them still ended up falling head over heels over her grandson regardless.

So Benio watches.

She watches the boy and his merry group of monsters from afar —and feel some longing, some aches over seeing this human child who looks so much like Reiko Natsume but isn’t her; and then she suddenly realizes that she’s starting to grow the same fascination and attachment for him that she had for his grandmother. So much for not wanting to stay with humans, like she said to Lord Madara.

She inadvertently end up joining Takashi Natsume’s silly yokai followers half against her will — friends, he calls them, just like what Lord Riou called his humans — and party with them, while her brain keeps screaming at her that she would do better to cut ties and run away from here before she gets contaminated by the strange illness that has taken over Lady Hinoe and Lord Madara years and years before. She knows how the story ends. She’s seen it, experienced it before with Reiko Natsume — and it is not a happy story.

But she doesn’t run away.

She stays, while doing her best to keep on not caring.

(It doesn’t really work.)

It is one night, to her utter surprise, that Lady Hinoe comes to see her out of the blue. That has never happened before; usually, they only each other by coincidence, at parties, or Benio is the one seeking her out. Although she stopped doing this since the last time they saw each other after Reiko Natsume’s disappearance.

But this time, Lady Hinoe visits her on her own at Benio’s cozy little clearer hidden next to a large summer lilac. Benio doesn’t have a home the way humans does — unless the whole of the forest count as one — but this is the place she enjoys coming back to when she needs rest and silence. This isn’t a secret, either, so Lady Hinoe knowing about it shouldn’t be odd — yet Benio can’t hide her surprise, staring at her in stunned silence. Hinoe chuckles.

“What’s the long face for? Can’t I go visit an old friend when I want to?”

“I had no idea we were friends,” Benio replies, actually genuine. She could give a lot of names to her relationship with Lady Hinoe, but friends isn’t one of them.

“Natsume calls you his friend, and I’m Natsume’s friend.”

“Even if I were to agree that I am indeed young Natsume’s friend, that still would not make us friends.”

“Heh. Well, I suppose not. Then again, believe it or not, you’re not the worst ayakashi to hang around with. Plus, I like your female appearance.”

Benio snorts. Although she is also someone who’s always put a lot of importance into the appearances of others — she would never give the time of day to anyone even remotely ugly to her tastes — she never understood Lady Hinoe’s obsession for those human gender things either.

“I just wanted to see you, I guess,” Lady Hinoe says. “I was surprised to see you started hanging out with Natsume too. I mean, he’s not really the type you take an interest in usually — and you always says humans disgusts you. Well, you don’t really take interest in anyone in general.”

“That is true. But that child did save Lord Riou. Lord Madara seems fond of him. And,” she says with some hesitance, proceeding carefully with her next words. “He is still Reiko Natsume’s grandson. That alone make him worthy of interest.”

Lady Hinoe chuckles again, but doesn’t add anything else.

“…You seem to be doing fine,” Benio declares after some seconds of silence.

“Hmm? Do I?”

“After Reiko Natsume left, you were a mess. I was wondering if you’d ever go back to normal.”

Lady Hinoe appears to contemplates the words for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll ever go back to how I was before Reiko,” she says, a quiet sadness in her voice. “She changed me too much. But… that’s true. I am better. I still can’t fathom the fact she is actually dead, though. Even after she disappeared, I kept hoping that maybe one day she’ll…” She shake her head. “Well, it was stupid. I’ve come to terms with it now. And I’m glad I got to meet her grandson, he’s a funny child. Very disappointing he’s a boy, though.”

Lady Hinoe’s apparent fondness for the Natsume boy is more surprising than Benio hanging out with him, truthfully. After all, not only is he a man, but he’s also the type of person Lady Hinoe usually dislikes — too frail, too gentle, too self-sacrificing. And yet she seems almost as attached to him as she was to his grandmother. Maybe the boy does have some strange magical powers.

“…I’m curious to see that you’re not jealous.”

“Jealous?” Hinoe repeats.

“Of Reiko Natsume’s supposed lover. I would think you would hate it. That she found someone else, especially a man.”

“Oh.” Lady Hinoe seems to ponder over this, then shake her head. “Maybe I would have, years ago. I can’t say I’m happy about it either, but… After she left, I kept wondering what her life might be like. I wondered if she was still lonely. If she found someone who truly loved her, then that is not something I can possibly be angry about, right? …Even if it was a man.”

Maybe that makes sense. In a way, she’d already mourned Reiko Natsume’s death throughout all those decades. Maybe she’d actually accepted long ago the fact there was no way a human like Reiko, no matter how exceptional, would ever build a life with a yokai and that it was only natural she’d settle down with another one of her kind one day.

Lady Hinoe’s gaze suddenly leaves Benio’s eyes to fixates on something behind her. A rock, that stands right under the summer lilac, and Benio almost feel her heart skip a beat as she realizes what the other ayakashi is staring at.

There is a piece of cloth, on the rock. An old lace dress, of a deep scarlet color.

At first, neither of them speak a single word; until Lady Hinoe finally opens her mouth, and murmurs, in a barely audible voice: “You kept it.”

“…I did.”

“Why?”

Lady Hinoe’s slender, manicured fingers grabs the dress, slowly caressing the tissue. Although it is now quite old, it’s still been kept very clean and polished; Benio has made sure of it. She took care of it carefully for all those years, hidden away from prying eyes, as if it was still waiting for someone to put it on.

Benio can’t answer her question. There is no logical reason that would’ve pushed her to do such a thing; no explanation that would makes sense for her character, with her way of life.

The only reason that could be given is a sentimental one; that it was a present once given to a yokai by a human, a gift like that plush Lord Riou kept so preciously. Something that has no meaning, but once made that yokai so very happy.

The only reason Benio would’ve done something like this is if she were to care for Lady Hinoe — and there is no way she would allow herself that.

“I don’t know,” is thus the only thing she can say; and then Hinoe looks at her and, bewilderingly, actually smile. If she didn’t know any better, Benio would almost feel embarrassed because it almost feel like Lady Hinoe saw right through her lie.

“Well… You did a good job at keeping it intact. It almost looks exactly like the day Reiko gave it to me.”

“…Maybe we could give it to her grandson.”

Lady Hinoe laughs. “And what would he do with it? He’s a boy, remember?”

“Does human boys not wear dresses? I’ll never understand human customs.”

Lady Hinoe shake her head, though Benio doesn’t know if it’s because she thinks she’s being stupid or because she agrees with her statement.

“Reiko didn’t even like that dress anyway. That’s why she gave it to me.”

Sadness permeates her words once more, before being swept away as she looks at Benio again.

“Thanks for keeping it,” she says. “I was a fool to throw it away, and I actually regretted it afterwards. It does mean a lot to me… especially now that she’s not here anymore.” She hesitates a little, and a bit more bashfully, she adds: “You won’t ever hear that from me again, but I wanted to say I was sorry for how I treated you before. You were right, too. Obviously, caring so much for Reiko was stupid, but… But I still don’t regret it. Despite everything.”

Benio doesn’t answer, and tries not to look away, tries not to let the warmth that blossoms through her chest not show too much on her face. She wonders if Lady Hinoe can tell anyway, because she grins back at her.

“You never did tell me how you thought I looked in it. Was I beautiful?”

Lady Hinoe doesn’t regret caring for Reiko Natsume, for her grandson, but Benio does. She knows caring only leads to bad things. Only leads to regret and suffering.

Yokai don’t need caring. But then, she thinks about the look in Lord Riou’s eyes as he spoke of his human friends, of the way Lord Madara’s face lit up when he is at the Natsume boy’s sides, at Lady Hinoe’s shining figure when she was in love with the Natsume girl.

Benio doesn’t let herself caring — but just this once, instead of answering, she let herself step forward towards Hinoe and press her lips against hers.

#Natsume Yuujinchou #NatsuYuu #Natsume's Book of Friends #Hinoe #FemslashFeb2024 #Benio #HinoBeni #BeniHino #Femslash February #Femslash Feb #FemFeb #Natsuchou #Connan's Fanfics #Hinoe NatsuYuu #Benio NatsuYuu #Hinoe x Benio

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thattotalloserrain · 10 months

Text

Terms in this post

Adoptive - The person that was adopted into the family

Adopted - The person who adopted a person into the family

As I notice new fans continue to enter the TMNT fandom, (or people are starting to talk about it more) I’m going to talk about 2012 especially because a lot of people are missing the points of writing flaws, and people are arguing for the wrong points and defending very problematic relationship issues.

I’ve came across this post, and it was really… concerning. I’m not gonna name them, or point them out, (And I can’t find the post, so I don’t know if it was deleted or not) but if you know what I’m referring to then just be respectful, I don’t mean any disrespect either because at the end of the day… It’s a cartoon, and we can still enjoy things while there’s still questioning things about it. The only harm that may come to conversations like these is because it can be very serious in real life. Yet, I find it strange how people are defending the wrong things for the same problem: the writing.

Let’s paint the picture.

The turtles are just now starting to go out to the surface, and with Leo’s situation, he ends up fighting a girl from the Foot. Romance is in the air, and he definitely falls in love with her. He never met her in his life, but he knew that he was the daughter of his fathers enemy- his adopted brother. (Let’s keep the adopted part in mind for later) So they already knew she was related in some way, blood or not.

Okay this is fine, it’s normal, and it’s trop that writers like to do- good guy falls in love with bad guy- it’s great. Until…

Now, Splinter has to tell Leo something after he also discovered it. His new born daughter that he thought perished that same night he lost his wife , and that so happened to be the girl Leo was fighting with. (And falling for) Is alive.

My 11 year old self at the time when he told that, made me widen my eyes.

I want to point out that TMNT 2012 is my favorite, and always will be. But that doesn’t mean I won’t point its serious flaws that the writers have done. For example,

Writing Donnie to be a stalker, (He is. There’s no argument about it. Following a girl, and getting caught after being told NOT to, is stalking behavior! Even when there’s good thought behind it! Poor Donnie doesn’t deserve to be written like that, though.) But as soon as we see that character development be “Yeah, I shouldn’t do that. I will stop.” The same girl she falls for is like “NAH, it’s okay because you’re my mutant~! Doesn’t help anything either.

Having Donnie, April, and Casey in this weirdest love triangle ever. (She tells both of them that she needs space at some point, but whenever they DO, she does something that makes that behavior more acceptable at that time. She goes back and forth between them clearly. And again it’s not April’s fault when she has bad writers)

We have Mikey that’s just doing his thing but ends up having something between Renet (whom isn’t born yet, but what the shell, at this point it fits the writing themes beautifully.) and Shinigami (Who wouldn’t, she is literally so hot.)

Now, I KNOW people are going to smite me for this but it’s only fair I still point things out in one of the best ships of the show so I can try to remain as unbiased as possible- Raph meets an alien in space. No questions between if they’re even equivalent to the same age or near, and already starts making out with her only within an episode (perhaps a few days) Kind of just like how Donnie also did with falling for April.

And we don’t see much with Yoshi having a relationship with Tang Shen until season 4, because she’s literally dead, and we haven’t seen any other interaction with her besides Splinter standing ground to his loyalty of his clan.

Do we see the similarities of why these writing flaws is happening? Do you see what they are common with?

They’re all relationships. The entire shows writing flaws, nearly every single one has to do something with relationships.

Every. Single. One.

The writers wanted to put romance into it, and failed miserably.

If you’re still reading this, congrats. I’m not done yet.

I feel as if I need to put some of my life experience into this to hope you all see the point I’m trying to make, and I know people that may have experienced similarly, that they still could have very different opinions to my own.

I’m adopted. And I only found that out when I became a teenager. Just as Karai has. I was lied to over and over and OVER again until I was finally told.

I’m not going to label Leorai something to extreme, but the ways people are defending it, is almost making it look like they know it is at some way, and are trying so hard to make it look like it’s completely fine, and you know what I’m talking about if you’re still reading this post, or you’re catching on to what I’m saying, I’ll make it very short and simple. And it’s really gross and scary how people think it’s okay.

Leo, and the rest of the turtles is related to Karai. Being a sister, or not. If they truly can’t be siblings, they are at least cousins, if we’re going to argue about how they weren’t raised together at all which… doesn’t make someone not related to someone.

And it was established that they both have romantic feelings for each other.

An argument that I saw was that the turtles aren’t technically adopted, or shares any DNA with Karai. (And honestly perhaps not, but we literally can’t rule anything out because we don’t have anything like mutagen in OUR world, so we can’t even argue anything about science because guys, come on… They’re four giant human turtles, and then there’s a literal trash mutant, so I don’t think we can say we’re experts on how mutagen works in this world or not.) So therefor, Leorai doesn’t count as (insert extreme label) And Splinter is also a harsh teacher, so Therefor- they aren’t his sons in any way because he can’t legally make them his sons. What?

Splinter is a mutated rat, and he may have just bot four baby turtles as a human, having no idea what is about to happen. Where is he going to go to the city, and find someone who would let him adopt four mutant turtles, to be his legally, official sons that he loves so much? Are we kidding? We’re going degrade the way that Splinter died and Mikey literally cried out “Papa.” And the thousands of times he calls them his sons and they their father and teacher? Fathers and mothers ARE our life teachers. And splinter KNOWS, that if NONE of them can defend, or fight for themselves, they would be killed easily from the harsh world. Of course his teachings will see VERY harsh. But he is literally preparing them for the worst, because he knows it can happen because he experienced it when he lost his wife to his adopted brother. And comparing to his brother, his brother literally kidnapped his daughter after murdering her mother and attempted murder of his adoptive brother! Why are we saying it’s okay for this heartless man to have the right to have Karai when Splinter can’t even do anything legally because he’ll get killed just from being a mutant?

Why is this even a point to make it seem like Leorai is okay or not? It literally makes no sense to use this as a reason why it is or shouldn’t, it has nothing to relate to it whatsoever. And at the end of the day, this entires shows romantic relationships isn’t okay. It’s just degrading a good father, and praising a horrible one for doing the ‘legal’ and ‘better’ thing??

Okay, another point that I saw was that none of the turtles weren’t raised or even knew Karai to begin with. That is true. They didn’t know she existed; and when they met her, they all didn’t know how she was related to them either way. Until they knew that Karai was Shredder’s daughter, then they definitely knew that the could be in some way. But like… if I find a sibling out there, adoptive, blood or not, I would back the heck out. It’s not the 1800’s where it’s fine to marry your cousin or aunt/uncle. And apart if the argument is that they can’t help their feelings or change them in anyway. (Pardon my language, but what the f*ck.)

Do you know who in the show was raised to be brothers, and ended up hating their guts, like literally? Splinter and Shredder. They changed they way they felt. And yes, it is more extreme comparing it to Leorai, but it’s also stupid not to point it out because it’s obvious.)

People are trying so hard to make it look like Leorai is fine in anyway, and it isn’t. It just plain isn’t. But again, the way people are defending (insert extreme label) They are still related. They. Are. Still. Related. Blood or not, they are. It is not okay to okay this behavior and or/writing that it is.

And people are defending this SO much they really believe and can say that it’s not (insert extreme label) because it only has to have two people be related by blood to make it (insert extreme label). Which isn’t the case, if someone is related to someone in anyway, then it is (inset extreme label.) and if you’re this person, your painting yourself as a person that is okay with in*st in anyway. I said what I said. If people can defend things like this, I can say my thoughts as well.

Get your head out of those sewer apples and GROW up. It’s fine to admit your wrongs and realize that things about your favorite show just isn’t okay. The writers wrote very problematic things, it’s the writers fault, and it’s okay to still like this specific show as a whole. Don’t let nostalgia make you look like you can also defend other problematic things.

Congrats; you made it to the end. Have a pizza 🍕

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #leonardo #karai #leorai #what is happening

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