#two abused children pitted against each other one last time

[absentlyabbie]

easily the most epic piece of music to come out of one of the most epic shows of all time

#avatar the last airbender #atla #the last agni kai #this incredible scene shown to us with no sound but the music and the muted roar of their contrasting fire #it was stunning and goosebump inducing #and honestly magnificently underscored the grim tragedy of this moment between brother and sister #two abused children pitted against each other one last time #SoundCloud

[ciaossu-imagines]

can I get one large fries and uuuum Eric Surt from K Project reuniting with a sort of childhood friend he had at his abusive group, but both got away? (He thanks to Homra and they actually managed to run away?)

Or is that too specific and weird?

That’s not too specific or weird at all, my lovely anon! I actually really enjoy how specific it is and it’s a really fascinating scenario that I had fun thinking about! I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons, and just saying, but the way you worded the first part of your message made me laugh!

I feel like the two of them would have been among the youngest in Hikawa. And, even if his friend hadn’t been an orphan like Eric was, I feel the gang still would have treated them rather unkindly and they would have suffered some abuse at the hands of the gang’s higher-ups and possibly even by their own parents. They were another person who Hikawa used as fodder for their own petty wars because, to the gang, these children hadn’t earned their place in the gang and thus they didn’t deserve the same level of respect or even to really be thought of as human beings so the gang members treated them as dogs instead, at least until such point as they would have proved their actual use and provided a reason to be thought of as one of the actual gang members. Eric and his friend would have had to earn their place in Hikawa and the lengths the gang goes to make them earn those places are nightmarish.

Eric didn’t trust anyone while living with Hikawa so I don’t think the childhood friendship between the two would have been super close but there was still a sort of friendship there. They often had to work together and, honestly, it was strangely comforting to have someone else who knew what they were going through and who could understand their situation. Eric still would have been irritable and would have been harsh in his words to them but that person was probably the closest he had to someone he could rely on in Hikawa, though with how the gang worked, the gang’s leaders would have found it funny to keep trying to pit the two against each other so complete trust was impossible.

I feel Eric’s friend got away first, honestly, and their disappearing and the gang being completely unable to track them down probably made the gang’s actions towards Eric even more brutal and probably set about the actual events that led to Eric becoming a part of HOMRA. Eric does feel abandoned by them and kind of angry with them for not taking him with them, but at the same time, he’s a little glad they got away and he doesn’t begrudge them for taking the opportunity to leave.

Let’s be real here…every last shred of Hikawa was obliterated in the wake of Eric joining HOMRA. Even their name is destroyed because people will know not to ever speak of them, to pretend like the gang had never existed. And that complete absence of the gang, that wiping them from the world, allows not only Eric his freedom to build a new future with HOMRA, but it means that his friend no longer has to hide in fear of being discovered by the gang and can start to build a more public life for themselves.

It’s while his friend is working on building that new life of theirs that they’ll run into Eric, completely by chance. He’s really shocked and honestly a little scared to see them. He knew they were never a big fan of Hikawa and he knew what the gang did to his friend and that they had left prior to the destruction of the gang but at the same time, HOMRA had destroyed the only semblance of a family, and possibly even his friend’s actual biological family. He’s not sure if you’re there for revenge or not, because it is a possibility. He’s going to be on high alert for the first little while, especially since he knows that they were taught to lie as children and his friend had always been better at that then he was.

His friend would have to reassure him that they were not out for revenge and they’d have to prove it to him, giving him time to trust them. They’d have to take the first steps into rebuilding any kind of friendship with Eric.

That being said, even while he’s learning to trust his old friend and while he’s learning to be sure about their motives, Eric does think about them a lot and he does worry about them. He knows he’s been really lucky to find HOMRA after his life with the gang and he wonders if his friend has been so lucky, how they’re living, what they’re doing…he doesn’t ever really say anything to show his worry but those that know him will kind of easily guess what he’s feeling.

If his friend still hadn’t found a safety net, and once he could trust them, I do feel like he’d maybe want to bring them into HOMRA. He’d still be distant with them at first and would never lose his gruffness completely, and it would take a lot of time for him to get over the abandonment issues they kind of left him feeling when they disappeared, but he still wouldn’t feel right if he was the only one who discovered a safe place to live after their shared childhood.

#k #project k #k project #headcanons #eric solt #eric surt

[toxic-mothers-tourney]

Toxic propaganda: Shadow Weaver (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Exemplifies Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss, threatened one of the small children she was raising with murder, tried to sacrifice her other daughter figure to save the world/get her more power, excessively rancid

She raises Adora and Catra up from babies, making Catra believe she's unworthy and completely unlovable by her, and praising Adora, even going as far as to punish Catra when Adora does something wrong. She's horrible and conniving and steals a precious gemstone from Scorpia, another girl she raises to believe her parents are dead and Shadow Weaver saved her, using the gem she stole for power. And all in all, she doesn't even apologize for any of it

She put two kids in a golden child-scapegoat dynamic, to the point where the scapegoat (Catra) tried to end the world just so the golden child (Adora) couldn’t save it. She taught Adora that Adora couldn’t want things for herself, and her only purpose was to be useful. She taught Catra that her only worth is in Adora’s support, and if Adora isn’t around then she is worth nothing. She manipulated Adora and Catra over and over again every time they gave her a chance to change. In the end, she died to save them, but her dying words, rather than her character foil’s dying words “take care of each other,” were “your welcome.” One last time rubbing in how much power she had over them, that only she could save them.

She is the defacto mother to the kids training to be solders for the horde, she pitted them against each and is generally very manlupitiv. And well she is training them to be child soldiers for the "evil empire" I think that is pretty bad in it self 🤷‍♀️

Really just out there be homophobic coded in the celebration of lesbianism that is SPOP. She's out there killing two birds with one stone: abusing and neglecting Catra, telling her she's worthless until our girl tries to destroy the world about it. IN THE SAME BREATH she manipulates Adora into thinking her only value is in what she can do for others until she tries to die for everyone. She's literally in their heads right up until the moment of her death when she tells them "you're welcome". Like, the audacity. Not to mention that all the children she is responsible for raising have most likely been kidnapped and are being raised as child soldiers, so that's not great.

Raised two girls and constantly compared them, creating a toxic competitive atmosphere between them, typical "golden child" and "scapegoat" emotionally abusive scenario.

Gatekeep Gaslight Gworst parental figure that manipulated and terrorized several children and teenagers and pretended she did them a favor

#Toxic propaganda #shadow weaver

[fangirleaconmigo]

Should You Read The Witcher Books?

So I’ve been meaning to make this post for a long long time and I just keep forgetting. But here it is.

I’m writing this post because I write a fic with Book!characters *and* I often share my favorite book passages, analysis, and quotes, on here. I love the books! I think it’s why most of you are following me. As a result of this, people say these kind of thing to me a lot:

“Wow, I really need to read the books.”

“Because of you I’m going to read the books.”

“I started the books this week because of your fic/analysis/passion for them.”

When I hear that, I usually feel two things at that once:

1) Incredibly honored. What could be better than sharing your love of books?! It is one of my favorite feelings in the world!

2) Absolute panic. Dawning horror. Wait, that’s three things.

Let me explain.

Ok. So.

If you go from my analysis posts and/or fics to the books and expect them to be similar in tone or content, I worry that you will feel blindsided. And I don’t want that to be because of me! I care about my pocket friends! I care about the lovely people who do me the honor of reading my work! I’m a worrier!

SO, I have to be very clear about what these books are, so I don’t lead you astray or make you feel baited and switched. I’m going to share my incredibly subjective, fallible opinions directly and honestly from the heart, and you can take what is helpful and leave the rest.

*TW for mentions of violence, child abuse, and sexual assault. Please take care.* I list the kinds of violence that happens in the books but not specific plot spoilers.

For those who are not aware:

The Witcher books are DARK ADULT fantasy. Despite having a whole lot more humor, warmth, and friendship than TWN, they are still much much darker than TWN. Maybe not so much the first few books, but as the book series progresses and the war begins, it becomes incredibly dark and bleak and violent. It is interspersed with humor and friendship, but there is no getting around the unrelenting horror.

We are talking wartime atrocities. We are talking mass murder, dismemberment, gore, rape, sexual assault, torture, among other things.

And possibly most notably, once Ciri leaves the care of Yen and Geralt (no spoilers how it happens) she is still a child (adolescent) and is alone and constantly being assaulted and sexually abused. One person I saw on Reddit called the last three books a whole lot of child torture. TWN has noticeably dialed back the rape and will almost certainly not to do this to us. Which is good. I would not want to see that with my own two eyes. Reading vs seeing is very different for me.

These books are about a whole lot of things. Among the themes are the horrors of war and the evils of racism, bigotry, and oppression. They very accurately (in my mind) depict the way power pits the marginalized against each other and protects itself. How power structures manipulate and exploit the marginalized and how they dispose of them the moment they no longer need them, and how they get away with it. How imperialism, war, and violence propagates itself.

They are also about how bodily autonomy is necessary to the dignity of the human spirit and they show the damage it does to a person when it is forcibly taken from them. It shows how society can crumble when children are not protected or loved.

Sapko was born in the aftermath of WWII in the wake of the Nazi occupation of his country, with death camps still real and raw in the memory. He (like all of us) is a product of his time. He has a lot of valuable story to tell.

Also, he is a product of his time in that he is an older straight white male. That shows. I have a whole thesis ready to go about The Witcher books, feminism, and misogyny. I’ve seen people say they are incredibly feminist, and others who say they are so misogynistic they had to stop reading them. It’s complicated. As always, I have thoughts. Maybe I’ll share some other time.

But suffice it to say, these are not modern ya books. Sapko is adamant that he is a storyteller and not a moralizer or a deliverer of Messages. He does not gaf about meeting modern social expectations of ‘good representation’ or ‘good politics’. It is adult, it is challenging, it is tragic and bleak in many ways, and it has its limitations in perspective.

If you do not want to read such things, please don’t. If you believe they will trigger you, please take care of yourself first. Your safety and wellness is the most important thing, always.

I will never be one of those book fans that’s like “READ THE BOOKS YOU PLEBES” like it’s some fucking requirement. Firstly, gate keeping can get absolutely fucked. Secondly, not everyone wants to read an EIGHT BOOK SERIES. Thirdly, some people are neuroatypical in a way that interferes with reading. (My son has such severe ADHD that he can only read graphic novels) So, I also see it as ableist to talk down to people for not reading long ass high fantasy books. And lastly, not everyone wants to subject themselves to stories with so much child abuse that could potentially trigger their trauma or depression etc.

So how can I read them? Why do I love them?

Well, I am a survivor of just about all the kinds of abuse that Ciri goes through. I am not the chosen one nor can I time travel (if only). However, take away all of the medieval fantasy elements, and my childhood and adolescence felt a whole lot like hers.

Survivors of abuse all need different things.

Not every survivor needs the same kinds of stories. I, personally, felt recognized and seen, even though it could be tough to get through at times. Loving Ciri, watching her fight and never give up, seeing her as the hero, seeing her as the person that everyone we love (Geralt, the Hansa, and Yen) are fighting for and rooting for and trying to protect…I don’t know…it was really important to me. I’d like to be more eloquent about that but I can’t seem to find the words at the moment. Hopefully you get what I’m trying to say.

I’m also extremely invested in stories that tell me true things about oppression. It helps me work through my thoughts about the world around me.

And look! There is magic and dragons and touching, hilarious, heartwarming moments, as well as some of my favorite characters and relationships put to page. Ciri may be my favorite child character of all time. She is right up there with Lyra Belacqua or Tiffany Aching for me. Geralt and Yen were really important to me. Milva and Eskel and Regis and Nenneke were really important to me. THE 😭 HANSA😭 They moved me in ways that mattered to me and they all live in my heart now. Again, I wish I could be more eloquent about that at the moment, but they all probably deserve their own posts. Regardless, that found family aspect will always feed my soul.

But there are things you may not want to read because you cannot unread that shit. And everyone has different needs and that’s ok.

And as for the things that I create?

My fics will ALWAYS be a kinder, gentler version of any canon. I write for comfort and healing and connection. I see these characters suffer on screen and in the pages and my empathy response can be intense! So, in my fics I am giving them the closure, grace, growth, love, sex, whatever it is I wanted for them that they never got in canon. It makes me feel better. That’s what I go to fic for. My gentle stories are the furthest thing in existence from a bleak dark fantasy.

And when I share my ‘meta’ or analysis, I’m always sharing the things that I love. I know that many (if not most) of my fandom buds aren’t going to read these books so I consider it my contribution to the fandom to pick out the parts you’re going to love and share them with you.

And yes, those lovely things are in them.

But they ain’t the only things. I never bring you the bad parts, but they are there too and I wanted to acknowledge that.

So. Please be sure that if you want to read past the first few books, that you go in with your eyes open and that your self care comes first.

Because I care about my fandom peeps and I don’t want to lead you astray.

That being said, these books meant a lot to me, warts and all.

So, if you do read them and you want to geek about them PLEASE DO drop into my asks. I will be thrilled and will probably write you a thesis in response. Let’s geek out over them together.

Xo

#the witcher #the witcher books #this is just how I feel man #thinking about the witcher books yet again

[damiano-mylove]

When The World Knows Peace

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x afab!reader

Wc: 1.6k

Cw(s): SMUT, unprotected sex, sex in a forest, sappy love, oral sex (reader receiving), prolly typos (tell me if it sucks ass)

Summary: The world may know a fleeting moment of peace when lovers embrace

Masterlist

Many a moon-many a generation- had passed before the lovers met under the moonlight once more. Their souls had been connected since the dawn of time, always drawn to each other, always in yearning for the other, and never complete lest the souls find each other once more.

It is said that their very souls were once one, until the Gods' tore them from one another; to damn the lovers to an eternal plight to once again be whole.

Their tale had existed in many different tongues, a legend of time, a legend of persistence. Twas for naught, as the children whose ears the tale fell upon laughed - for, how true may true love really be?

Yet, each time the souls rejoin, the onlookers-whom had grown from the children who laughed- were marked as indisputably mistaken. Only fools may look upon the souls intertwined and still beg the question how true may true love really be?

In the expanse of the many eons, the souls had taken many a form; each with a different face, doctrine, and colour. Be that as it may, none were to be more beautiful in the eyes of one half than their counterpart. Each visage had the other swooning at first sight, feeling the everlasting pull of fate to their other half.

There were lifetimes where the clock ticked much too speedily, and the lovers were once more damned to a life of separation and settling.

But not this one.

Now, as the lovers lay in the forest, they loved, they loved, and they loved, as if this may be the last lifetime they may spend together.

~

"Happy three years, Baby," Jake whispered to you. A deep blush spread from your sternum to the upper-most tips of your ears. Somehow, despite having been in love with him for three years now, even the simplest of words from Jake could have the blood rushing through your veins at mach speed. The beautiful boy beside you chuckled, brushing his rough thumb over your cheek. "Awe, you still get all flustered around me."

"I'm going to punch you in the mouth," you laughed, placing you hand over his. Jake smiled contently, gazing at your beguiling face. "Y'know how we went to that really fancy restaurant on our first year?" Jake nodded. "And to Vancouver on our second?"

"If this is about how our third is low budget and-"

"I like this one the best," you finished with a snicker. Jake rolled his eyes with a certain sass.

"So we spent all that money only for you to be happier with a blanket and a forest?" He grinned. You laughed, propping your head up with one hand, resting the other on his chest. Jake smiled up at you, "Well I'm glad my idea is the best one."

Leaning lower, you brushed your nose across his, gaining a low chuckle from your counterpart. "You're an asshole," is all you said before closing the gap between your lips and his.

While your one hand traveled up to cup the lower part of Jake's face, his hand came over and rested upon your side. Still, you shivered at the touch, his fingertips seeming to strike lightning to each cell in your body.

"Baby, I love you - you know that, yeah?" Jake mumbled, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second.

You couldn't suppress the smile. "I know that, Jakey. I've always known - just like you've always know of my love for you."

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you," he spoke lowly.

"The Temptress. Slick."

Jake came back up to rejoin your lips, for he could never satiate the need of your own upon his. The overwhelming feeling of passion engulfed you both, bathed in the light of the Pale Lady Moon above, while shrouded by the dark green of the foliage.

Pushing you back on the blanket, Jake deepened the kiss so that there may be no doubt of his love for you. The feeling of utmost devotion was palpable to even the animals passing by.

Grasping the ever-so soft locks of his hair, your fingers got lost in the maze of his scalp, bringing him infinitely more close. Jake's hands roamed your body as if he were savouring the moment, though this was not the first nor the last he'd ever caress your sweet form. One hand drifted from the curvature of your frame to lift your thigh, effectively wrapping your leg around his waist.

The tight prison of Jake's jeans brushed against your own as you could feel the warmth of arousal dampening your underwear. With a small tug on the roots of his hair, Jake groaned, relishing in the pleasure just your simple touch could bring him.

For a moment, you broke the kiss, as for both you and Jake to strip your shirts. The cool night air nipped at your skin, but you could practically imagine steam rolling off the two of you. Jake began to kiss from your jaw, to your clavicle, leaving the smallest bites and the sloppiest kisses down the territory of your neck. The hands fondled your newly exposed chest, making your nails drag down his back when he began to pinch and twist one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb.

"Jesus, Jakey," you sighed in pleasure.

Your comment only spurred the guitar player further, becoming more rough with your breasts. He opted to attach his lips to your chest, while beginning to toy with your unoccupied nipple. His teeth grazed your tender skin, making you putty in the palm of his hand.

"You torture me, y'know," you respired as Jake began to make his trail further down your torso. The lowly laughter of Jakey only sent vibrations from your stomach to the spot he was most anxious to meet.

His dark eyes met yours, looking at you in the most sinful way. "It'd be no fun if I didn't." As he spoke, his fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans, removing them from your legs entirely, to join with your shirts, in a pile long forgotten. The pressure you felt against your core was still clothed by your soaked underwear, making your boyfriend hum, "You're always so wet for me."

"And you're always rock hard for me," you responded, letting your calf graze his raging erection. Jake smiled as he came into connect with your clit, sending a shiver up your spine. You couldn't resist the low moan that came from your lips, "Please, Jakey."

"As you wish."

With a swift snap, your panties were removed from you, leaving you fully exposed to a man you fully trusted. He leaned further down, letting his warm breath fan your weeping heat. Flattening his tongue, he collected your juices on his tongue, reveling in your sweet taste. You let out a groan as Jake began lapping up your arousal with his tongue, having it like ambrosia.

"You taste amazing," he whispered. His tongue came into contact with your clit; abusing the bundle of nerves while his fingers found home inside of you. The sounds you made were pornographic as Jake decided to begin sucking your sensitive spot.

It wasn't far after that you could feel the nerves begin to collect in the pit of your stomach. The fingers that carded in his hair became unorganized, and Jake knew that was his sign to stop.

You gave him a look of betrayal as he began undressing the rest of himself. "Tortuous."

"As wonderful as you taste, Baby," Jake said, coming back on top of you. He tilted your head with his fingers gently, leaning in closer. "You know I love it when you cum on my cock. Who am I to deprive you of that pleasure?"

"God, you're so right."

You attacked his lips feverishly as Jake began to slowly fill you to the brim. The kiss stopped you from making too loud of a sound, but it was unavoidable.

His thrusts were slow and methodical, finding your g-spot. Once the soft tissue was found, Jake began ensuring he hit it every time. With every hitch in your breath and every vibration sent down his throat, Jake came closer and closer to his own undoing.

"Jakey, I'm really - ah - really close," you whimpered.

"Me too. I'm right behind you," he grunted, his thrusts becoming less and less methodical, yet more and more animalistic.

The bundle of nerves in your stomach finally burst, causing your legs to spasm and your walls to clench around the cause that was buried deep inside. Feeling the wave of orgasm wash over you, Jake was quick to follow, shooting his warm seed deep inside of you.

After a few more weak thrusts, Jake slipped out of you, flopping next to you on the blanket. You looked over at him, but Jake was already looking at you.

"Even after three years, you can still fuck me like no one else," you laughed. Jake busted a ragged smile as his chest heaved, trying to absorb every bit of oxygen he could get.

"I'll never get tired of you, Y/n," he told you. You smiled, getting bashful again. "Even when we're old and grey, I'll be right by your side, still taking you to plays and still playing you every song you want to hear."

"I'd want nothing more."

The two of you joined for one more kiss, this one oozing with passion and love. And for a moment, the world was still, and all that mattered was this moment.

~

The Gods let it be so, that when the souls shall be connected once more, enthralled in the other's embrace, the world would know peace, if not just for a fleeting moment.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka imagine #jake gvf #gvf one shot #gvf #fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet #x reader #oneshot #one shot

[strangerthings4theories]

Mirror Images: Billy And El Are Reflections Of Each Other

As you read this post, hold the following concepts in your mind: yin and yang in Chinese philosophy. The Light Side and Dark Side in Star Wars. The real world and the Upside Down in Stranger Things.

That, my friends, is the level of thematic significance the Duffers are giving Billy and El. And it’s my top reason for believing Billy will come back.

Why?

El is arguably the main character of the show. Any character who’s linked to her so profoundly will be a Big Fuckin’ Deal.

You cannot, CANNOT, create such a consistent dynamic by accident, which tells me that...

...the Duffers have huge intentions for Billy. He will become more significant to the show, not less! If you think he’ll return just for flashbacks or memories, you’re not thinking big enough.

Buuuut I’m getting ahead of myself. First let me show you what I mean when I say Billy and El are mirror images. It’s pretty mind-blowing...

1) The broad strokes of Billy and El’s lives echo each other: their family backgrounds, their traumas, and their journeys in the show.

>>They’ve suffered under abusive fathers. In fact, in S2 they have encounters with their fathers in back-to-back episodes - El with Brenner in episode 7, Billy with Neil in episode 8. 

Both fathers are likened to the Mind Flayer in the power they wield over their children. In episode 7, El’s hallucination of Brenner tells her she has a “wound... growing and festering” (my paraphrase), a clear reference to the tunnels of the Upside Down. Kali, as the creator of the hallucination, is trying to tell El that he is the source of the wound, and El won’t heal until she’s confronted him. 

In episode 8, the title card “The Mind Flayer” opens on Neil driving back to the Hargrove house, implying he’s the real Mind Flayer in Billy’s life. As I’ve argued elsewhere, Billy won’t heal either until he’s confronted Neil.

>>Billy and El lost their mothers because of their fathers. Brenner fried Terry's brain with electricity for daring to defy him. Billy's mother left for an unknown reason, but we’re led to believe she couldn’t take Neil’s abuse anymore. The way she's presented in Billy's memories leads me to believe she has since passed away.

Billy and El are both devastated by their losses. When El tells Billy at Starcourt, “[Your mother] was pretty,” she’s trying to tell him she understands.

>>Billy and El have “adopted” sisters, Max and Kali. Max represents Billy's better nature; Kali represents El's darker nature. In the same season where Billy constantly insists Max isn't his sister - thereby rejecting her - El finds Kali and embraces her. This symbolizes Billy and El’s complementary journeys: Billy is learning to accept his light while El is learning to accept her darkness.

>>Billy and El are wounded and angry because of what’s happened to them. In S1 El worries she's a monster, and in S2 she nearly kills a man in her anger, only to stop herself at the last second (against the wishes of Kali, her darker nature). Billy lets his rage define him. He's turned into a bully over his teen years, and in S2 he nearly kills Steve. Max (his better nature) stops him.

>>Billy and El are viscerally connected to the Upside Down.

The Upside Down is pursuing El. We’re not sure why yet, but their predator/prey dynamic is the main source of conflict in the show. Brenner says to her in S1, “It [the Upside Down] is reaching out to you ‘cause it wants you. It’s calling you. So don’t turn away from it this time.” His words form the backbone of the narrative:

In S1, El opens the first Gate, introducing the Upside Down to our world and setting the events of the show in motion. At the climax, she defeats the Demogorgon, the Mind Flayer's first servant.

S2 deals with the evolving consequences of El opening the first Gate. At the climax, El closes the Gate (symbolically “turning away" from the Upside Down) and catches the Mind Flayer's attention in the process.

In S3, the Mind Flayer comes after El to kill her. She runs from him, and her friends intervene to save her.

In future seasons, the Mind Flayer will regroup and try again but to corrupt her this time, not kill her. The climax of the entire show will hinge on the resolution of their conflict. El will be forced to stop running and face the Mind Flayer head-on.

In S3, Billy is caught by the Mind Flayer and turned into his instrument to hunt El down. This creates a yin/yang situation where Billy and El are revolving around each other, with the Mind Flayer in the center pulling on them both. At Starcourt, El saves Billy's soul by bypassing the Mind Flayer completely - building “the rainbow bridge.”

If you remember that Brenner and Neil, their abusive fathers, are likened to the Mind Flayer, their interaction becomes the story of Billy re-enacting his trauma, and El helping him heal it.

2) Runaway Max gives us a special case of Billy and El mirroring each other.

In S1, one of El's biggest moments happens in episode 6. Mike and Dustin have been cornered by the bullies Troy and James. Right when all hope is lost, El shows up and breaks Troy’s arm. After that, she confesses tearfully, “The gate. I opened it. I'm the monster.” This brings forward her inner struggle - am I a monster for the things I do? - which she will no doubt revisit in future seasons.

Keep in mind that Troy is around 12 years old, and El breaks his right arm.

Jump forward to S2. At one point, Billy complains, “Yeah, we're stuck here [in Hawkins]. And whose fault is that?” - implying it's somehow Max's. She disagrees. “Yours,” she mutters under her breath.

In the show, we never get an explanation. Runaway Max tells us everything.

Back in California, Billy is spiraling deeper and deeper into a pit of rage. One fateful afternoon, he takes it out on Max and her best friend Nate, a 12-year-old boy. When Max resists him, he seizes Nate's right arm and twists it behind his back. He holds it there, watching Max.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, a crazed look in his eyes.

When she does nothing, he breaks Nate's arm.

The fallout is catastrophic. Within weeks, Neil decides they should all move away from California for the good of the family.

Now think about this. El breaks a 12-year-old boy's right arm to save her friends from bullies. Billy breaks a 12-year-old boy's right arm... because he is the bully.

It’s part of the wider pattern: El is light, Billy is darkness.

3) The Duffers use physical markers to underscore Billy and El’s similarities.

>>When the MF wrecks Billy's car, Billy's forehead smashes into the windshield, leaving a gash. At Starcourt, he slams El into the wall, giving her a wound in the same spot. Thematically, their wounds tell the story of Billy suffering abuse, then turning around and inflicting it on El. He’s perpetuating a cycle, and it’s up to him to stop it.

>>Both Billy and El are limping by the time they reach Starcourt. El's leg is injured from the Mind Flayer, while Billy injures his in the car crash. These wounds tell the story of El, the “innocent,” suffering pain through no fault of her own while Billy, the “guilty” one, is being punished for his crimes. (I put those words in quotes because I believe the show will challenge our assumptions.) 

A sad footnote: El has Max and Mike to help her walk. Billy has no one.

>>In S2, Billy gets a nosebleed out of the same nostril as El. This says a LOT, marking him as a future “superhero” and putting him in the same class as El, Kali, and El's mom Terry.

Off the top of my head, only two other characters get nosebleeds, Mayor Kline and Steve. But the blood never comes cleanly out of one nostril the way it does with El. I believe that was a purposeful design choice to avoid muddying the symbolic waters.

...

Y’all, I’ve already hit my picture limit for a single post, and I’m not even done yet :p So I’ll stop there for now. Eventually I’ll show you how El is connected to the Demogorgon in the same strange way as Billy.

You see what I mean though? There is no fuckin’ way Billy is dead for good. Why would the Duffers give him this much resonance with El, then drop him? 

It makes no sense.

If you ask me, they’ve got plans for our boy. World-altering plans. He’s not just coming back; by the end of the show, he’s gonna be a Big Goddamn Hero.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Billy Is Alive - A Meta Series

#billy hargrove #el hopper #billy hargrove is alive #stranger things theory #stranger things analysis #neil hargrove #martin brenner #terry ives #billy hargrove's mother #kali prasad #max mayfield #nothin' but parallels all the way down

[ljf613]

Zuko’s Memory Bias

I’ve talked about Azula’s potential memory bias towards her mother. In that same thread, I mentioned that Zuko also has memory bias towards his parents. What I didn’t think about until I was writing my recent post on his relationship with Azula is how those same biases may have affected the way he perceives her. 

(Warning: This is a very complex topic, and I suggest not reading/engaging if you find it potentially triggering or are unable to deal with it in a nuanced way. I am NOT trying to downplay abuse, nor am I trying to gaslight those who’ve been victimized by it.) 

Azula the Liar 

In “Zuko Alone,” we get a good sense of what Zuko’s life was like as a child. We see him interacting with his mother, sister, and (briefly) his father. And we get some insight into a line from “The Avatar State.” 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “The Avatar State.” Zuko: “You lied to me! [Cut to Azula, who appears confident.]” Azula: “[Smugly.] Like I've never done that before.”/ End ID] 

There are two scenes in “Zuko Alone” where Zuko accuses Azula of lying to him. Look at these lines, and see if you notice a common denominator. 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “Zuko Alone.” Young Azula: “[Sing-songy.] Dad's going to kill you! [Seriously.] Really, he is.” Young Zuko: “Ha-ha, Azula. Nice try.” Young Azula: “Fine, don't believe me. But I heard everything. Grandfather said Dad's punishment should fit his crime. [Imitates Azulon.] ‘You must know the pain of losing a first-born son. By sacrificing your own!’“ Young Zuko: “Liar!” Young Azula: “I'm only telling you for your own good. I know! Maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you!” Young Zuko: “Stop it! You're lying! Dad would never do that to me!”/ End ID]

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “Zuko Alone.” Young Zuko: “Where's Mom?” Young Azula: “No one knows. Oh, and last night, Grandpa passed away.” Young Zuko: “Not funny, Azula! You're sick. And I want my knife back, now. [Zuko tries to grab it, but misses as Azula quickly moves out of the way, and loudly grunts.]”/ End ID]

Do you see it yet? Twice Zuko thinks Azula is making some kind of joke, and both times (as far as canon shows us, though I’ve seen headcanons that argue differently) Azula is actually telling the truth. 

Azula has no qualms about lying to acheive her goals. We see this multiple times over the course of the series. But if all we had to go by was these two scenes, we might paint a very different picture. 

Because there’s another, more subtle thing that both of these scenes have in common: both times, Zuko chooses to believe that Azula is lying, rather than accept that a parent (read: Ozai, because both of these things are really his fault) has failed him. 

The Beast 

There’s a kind of cognitive bias that often occurs with victims of abuse. Rather than try to explain it, I’ll give an example of a fictional character from a different story who is a very clear example of how and why it happens. 

In book one of Trials of Apollo (The Hidden Oracle), we’re introduced to a girl named Meg McCaffrey. Meg is strong, tough, and great in a fight. She explains that it’s all because of her stepfather, who took her in off the streets and trained her. She seems to genuinely care about him, and talks about him affectionately. 

But there’s another man in Meg’s life: The Beast. The Beast is a constant presence in her nightmares. He killed her first father, and we soon learn that he’s one of the primary antagonists of the story, and planning on destroying the world. 

But eventually, we discover the truth: The Beast and Meg’s stepfather are the same person. 

Meg’s stepfather is an abuser, one who’s used a common tool of abusers everywhere-- detatching from the tool he uses to abuse her and anthromorphizing it. “Don’t make me angry,” he says, “or you’ll wake up The Beast, and then whatever happens is on your head.” 

And because Meg needs to believe that her stepfather cares about her, she projects all her negative feelings about him towards this figmentary “Beast” and blaming him for all the problems in her life. 

Are we noticing the connection to Zuko and his relationship with his father yet? 

My Father Loves Me 

For the first two and a half seasons (especially in season 1), Zuko is convinced that deep down, his father loves him, cares about him, wants him back home. He has to believe that, because if he doesn’t, then what has been the point of everything he’s done until now? 

Which means that tricking him into an Agni Kai and then burning his face must have been justified. It means that capturing the Avatar really will get him back his honor. It means that everything that’s gone wrong in his life is his own fault. 

Or, at least, almost everything. 

You’re Like My Sister 

The first time we ever hear of Azula (other than that shot of her smiling at the Agni Kai in “The Storm”) is when Zuko is talking to (unconcious) Aang after he captures him in “The Siege of the North, Part 2.” 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “The Siege of the North, Part 2.” Zuko: “I finally have you, but I can't get you home because of this blizzard. [Stands up and looks outside the cave.] There's always something. Not that you would understand. You're like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born. I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight and that's made me strong. It's made me who I am.”/ End ID] 

There’s something interesting happening here. This is the first time Zuko’s been able to be totally honest about his feelings around Aang, and what does he do? He starts comparing Aang to, of all people, Azula. He’s projecting. He clearly has all of these negative feelings towards Azula, but he can’t do anything about them. So instead, he’s taking it out on Aang. 

Take every single interaction between Aang and Zuko in season one. Now realize that from Zuko’s perspective, he was dealing with his sister. 

Taking Aang prisoner on his ship? Azula. Constantly trying to capture Aang, only to be outsmarted by him? Azula. Shooting a blast of fire when Aang extends a potential hand of friendship? Azula. 

Because Aang, like Azula, is a perceived obstacle between himself and his father’s love. 

Father Says She Was Born Lucky 

Ozai didn’t just belittle Zuko-- he pitted his children against each other. He made it clear to Zuko that, even from the moment he was born, he would never, ever be as good at his sister. 

And all of this has caused a lot of rage and turmoil inside of Zuko. As self-depricating as he is, he does realize that not everything that’s gone wrong in his life is his fault. But we’ve already established that blaming his father would shatter his worldview. 

So who else does he have to blame? 

Azula. 

Azula, who was born lucky. Azula, who’s just so perfect. Azula, the prodigy. Azula, who everyone adores. Azula, who got everything. Azula, who always lies.  

Azula Always Lies 

Zuko talks a lot about honor. He talks a lot about capturing the Avatar. But when he’s stressed, when he’s feeling pressured, when he’s thinking about all the ways his life has gone wrong, he uses a different mantra. 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “Zuko Alone.” Young Zuko: “[Chanting in a low voice.] Azula always lies. Azula always lies.” Cut to the older Zuko, lying in green grass, holding his traveler's hat to his chest. Zuko: “Azula always lies.”/ End ID]

Azula always lies. 

”Azula always lies” is comforting. It means “father doesn’t really consider me a miserable failure.” It means “he was never really going to kill me.” 

Instead of getting angry at all the ways his father has failed him, Zuko can just blame it on Azula’s lies. That way he doesn’t ever have to admit the real problem. 

Now, I’m not saying that Azula was a perfect sister, or even a particularly good one. I’m not saying that she never lied, because we know she did. I’m not saying she didn’t hurt him, or trick him, or manipulate him. What I’m saying is that Zuko’s skewed perception has lead him to blame her not only for all the ways she hurt him, but also all the ways Ozai failed him. 

“Okay,” you’re saying. “Say I agree with you. Say we assume that all of his negative feelings that really should have been directed at Ozai were instead directed at Azula. But that doesn’t matter now. Zuko eventually did realize that his father was wrong. They had a whole dramatic confrontation where Zuko told him what a horrible father he was and everything! He’s not projecting anymore, and his current feelings towards his sister should only be indicative of her actions and behaviors. Right?” 

Wrong. 

How Cognitive Bias Works 

Cognitive bias is insidious. It doesn’t just affect one memory, it ripples outwards, affecting all of them. And the vast majority of the time, we don’t even notice it happening. 

Zuko called Ozai out for two things, and two things only. 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “The Day of Black Sun, Part 2: The Eclipse.” Zuko: “For so long, all I wanted was for you to love me, to accept me. I thought it was my honor I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please you. You, my father, who banished me just for talking out of turn. [Points a broadsword at his father.] My father, who challenged me, a thirteen-year-old boy, to an Agni Kai. [Cuts to shot of Ozai, looking angered.] How could you possibly justify a duel with a child?”/ End ID]

Zuko blames Ozai for his banishment, and for the Agni Kai. That is it. 

To be clear, I am not saying that Zuko thinks Ozai was a perfect father before all of this. Not at all. Zuko is aware that Ozai is “the worst father in the history of fathers.” 

But it isn’t like he’s gone back and inspected every single memory that involved Ozai and pinpointed all of the ways Ozai abuzed, manipulated, and gaslit him. He can’t. That requires both a level of objectivity he hasn’t reached, as well as a frame of reference for what normal looks like. Any victim of abuse-- especially childhood abuse-- will tell you that even though they know they were abused, they will often have or witness random interactions that will leave them thinking, “wait, this is what normally happens in this kind of situation? You mean [x] was also part of the abuse?” 

Not to mention that while Zuko didn’t examine his feelings towards Azula at any point before the finale. He had his epiphany about Ozai, and realized that his father had been wrong, but he’d always thought Azula was wrong. 

So while Zuko is aware that he had a bad father, he hasn’t actually stopped to consider how much of his anger towards his sister is actually about his father. 

(Again, I’m not blaming Zuko. None of this is his fault, any more than he’s at fault for the Air Nomad Genocide or the war. It’s just the reality of his situation.) 

Conclusion 

So what am I saying here? 

I’m saying that Zuko’s perception of his sister-- his anger, his frustration, his understanding of who she is-- is fundamentally biased. I’m saying Zuko isn’t viewing her from her own merits. I’m saying that Zuko doesn’t actually know her. He thinks he does, but he’s wrong. 

I’m adding another thing to the list of reasons why Zuko is not the person to try and help Azula through her trauma. 

I’m giving yet another example of how the fandom’s perception of Azula is also biased-- because the vast majority of our understanding of Azula’s character comes from Zuko. 

And unlike Zuko, we can detach ourselves from the narrative enough to realize that it might be worthwhile to re-examine our view of her.

#avatar the last airbender #meta #fire sibs #thoughts #zuko and azula #zuko #selective memory #cognitive bias #azula #ozai #zuko and ozai #toxic family #cycle of abuse #toxic siblings #fire nation royal family #abuse #food for thought #all queued up

[akyrin]

SBI Fic Recs

You'll be Okay Kiddo by StayGoldFics Gen/Ongoing/43k - Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute Technoblade and Wilbur, On the run, Homeless Technoblade, Wilbur and Tommy

Summary: After Running away two years ago from yet another crappy home Wilbur, Techno and Tommy find themselves on the streets with no where to go. But hey, at least they have each other.

^ Phil finds a bunch of mute, on-the-run-from-the-foster-system-AND-the-police children in his shed and decides to adopt them. Wilbur, Techno and Tommy trust exactly none of it but Phil keeps proving himself. Basically Phil accepting and being unconditionally loving to three boys who have known nothing but pain for a long time. I love Phil's character in this. He never demands answers from any of them, just offers them a home unconditionally, even with the threat of police. And the boys want nothing more than to accept his kindness and safety but they're just too scared to do so.

One Man's Trash by SilverWing15 T/Ongoing/14k - Superheroes AU, SBI as Villains (they are soft for Tommy though), Hurt/Comfort, Homeless Tommy

Summary: The kid is glaring down at him and eating a partially moldy apple like he’s daring Wilbur to come fight him for it.

“What the fuck?” Wilbur says.

The kid takes a huge chunk out of the apple and definitely doesn't chew it enough before he swallows.

“You got a fucking problem, asshole?”

“I mean...kind of?” Wilbur says.

“There’s a child eating literal garbage in front of me so I feel like that’s a bit concerning.”

“Shouldn’t you be robbing a bank or getting your ass kicked by superheroes?”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

The kid snarls wordlessly and chucks an empty carton from some chinese place at him.

“Fuck off man. Forget this dump.”

“What, you know a better one to eat from?”

“I know one that doesn’t have a fucking weirdo supervillain in it!”

The kid slams the lid of the dumpster down.

Rude.

^My current obsession. Focuses on the relationship between Tommy and Wilbur and it's written extremely well. Wilbur is a supervillain who stumbles upon a homeless Tommy and decides to take him in as much as he can. Tommy has extreme trust issues but he's also starved for both touch and affection. Similarly to You'll Be Okay Kiddo, this one has so much yearning. Tommy wants nothing more than to reach out for the warmth Wilbur is offering, but he has been burned too many times. Wilbur wants nothing more than to bundle Tommy up in fluffy blankets, but he knows that one wrong move will send Tommy running (updates daily). Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous Gen/Completed/63k - Adoption AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending Summary: Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old. He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

^Tommy is due to be fostered by Phil and his adopted son Techno, but he refuses to leave the orphanage without his brother Wilbur. Phil decides to take them both. Tommy and Wilbur are terrified, Techno is insecure, they work it out. Love the relationship progression and how the building trust between Techno and the others is written. Responsible Forever by SilverWing15 Gen/Completed/17k - semi-adoption, Raccoon Innit, Hurt/Comfort, Feral Child TommyInnit

Summary: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?”

“I know how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?”

“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.”

“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.”

“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters.

^ Beautifully written fic about Phil and co trying to resocialise a quite literal feral raccoon child. Tommy is scared but painfully slowly learns to trust his new family. The way Tommy is so painfully hesitant but still yearns for the idea of family is both heartbreaking and incredible to read. I'd forgotten people are kind by BialyLis Gen/Ongoing/95k - Adoption AU, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse

Summary: "Wilbur did not look like a "difficult" child. Honestly, he looked like a child struggling to reach his next birthday on his own. In an oversized, faded sweater, with bruises on his forearms, and a still unhealed, split lip, he definitely didn't resemble the little terrorist Phil had carefully guarded all sharp objects from. More like a victim of a natural disaster. As if he had spent hours on the roof escaping a flood, only to be carried away by a tornado. But burying the knives was still a good idea. The kid seemed to trip over while making a sandwich."

^ Phil struggling through the uneasy process of becoming a dad to Wilbur and Techno, who have both been hurt too much for them to trust easily. Still updating hey, hi, hello by ph1sh T/Ongoing/13k - High School/College, Teacher Phil Watson, Students Wilbur, Techno and Tommy, Family Dynamic

Summary: Phil knows he isn't the first teacher to have hopes of changing kids' lives for the better, and he won't be the last. But Oakwood High seems to want to crush those hopes. He's a first year teacher still working on his college degree, he doesn't know how he planned on helping three students when he can barely help himself. or It's Phil's first year teaching and he gets stuck with detention duty. It just so happens that Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno can't stay out of detention. ^ Phil helping the "problem" children that lesser people have already gave up on. I love the way Phil (and the reader) slowly uncovers the backstory of Wilbur, Techno and Tommy. Still ongoing but a lovely read so far.

Change fate by being aggressively kind - or any other fic by sircantus

T/Ongoing/78k - AU - Magic, Phil Being the Best Dad Ever - The Fic, Protective Phil

Summary: “You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings. “He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at. “He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!” “Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.” Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children. Phil has a different plan. (In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world) I think this one speaks for itself. Sircantus is always top notch. If you haven't read this one yet, do it.

#SBI #sleepy bois inc #SBI fic rec #SBI fics #long post #sbi fic rec

[lovecinnatwist]

How would you go about writing omega Jason with Alpha Dick?

Man oh man- Omega!Jason with Alpha!Dick is always such a bop.

It depends really! I see so many fics with insecure Jason thinking Dick is too good for him which is nice and definitely in character- but sometimes it makes me crave the other end of the spectrum?

Like a confident, sexy Jason who teases Dick with his scent and body until the alpha wants to implode? I also like the idea of Jason being raised by an Omeganist!Alfred and Omega!Talia to be badass, sassy and sensual. Bras? Suppressants? Painful heats?

Not for Jason Todd!

He embraces his Omega-ninity and it wreaks havoc on Dick's hormones. Dick being a more conservative alpha would definitely find himself overwhelmed but enamored!

Here's something playful with a clumsy Alpha!Dick and confident pack Omega!Jason!

Tiddies Out - JayDick

Tags: Omegaverse, AlphaDick, OmegaJason, Pining, Crack treated Seriously, Lactating, Heat Cycles, Omega Tim, Alpha Bruce, Pup Damian- Just Dick being an obvious pining idiot and Jason enjoying his reactions-

Jason doesn’t mind being an omega. How could he when it’s one of the superior options? While Alpha’s often lost themselves to aggression during rutting season and beta’s scrambled to placate them- Omega’s got to sit back and watch the show.

Being the object of an alpha’s fascination has many perks. First off? The gifts. Lavish offerings make their way to him with little to no effort. Weaponry from Talia, Expensive silks and poisons from Ras, The latest tech from Tim and Bruce. It's an endless parade really. One of the few things that make this more bearable to put up with.

He’s a heavy milker. Always has been.

Maybe it’s from growing up in an abusive household. Perhaps it's in response to being closer to the pack’s pups or hell, maybe his body is just gearing up for the imaginary children it wants to have. Regardless of the reason Jason’s tits are aching.

They seem extra tender tonight. The cold dingy air does little to ease the tension under his armor. He shifts and the way his pads squish under bullet proof chest plates is a pain. He curses and tries to ignore it. Something that’s getting harder as the cotton under his clothing reaches its limit. Tsk- 4 hours his ass. It’s barely been 2 and he’s about to make a mess of his gear.

As annoying as it is. He reluctantly reaches into his kit to get two fresh napkins to change. Other omega’s might be shy to do this in public but Jason has always been more practical about it. Breasts are breasts, no reason to get all crazy about it.

Though it probably didn’t hurt that Jason himself had a nice rack. He knows what the other heroes say about him behind his back. His figure has never been more appreciated than now in his prime. The dip in the pit did wonders at helping him bulk up. Thighs thick, emphasising his trim waist. In the throws of season his ample chest gives him an illusion of an hourglass figure. While some people would say omega’s should be small and dainty, he has yet to meet an alpha or beta who can resist him.

Not to be vain but he is nothing else if not attractive.

He’s got his top half way off when the sound of a near violent thud echoes out in the darkness. The hiss of pain gives away the alpha before his scent can. Jason doesn’t even turn in his direction. Instead he keeps his attention on the sopping pads under the compression shirt. He hisses as the gentle adhesive pulls from his throbbing mamories.

“ You alright over there goldie? “

He gets a groan for an answer. A nicer person would have maybe let the other man know about his current state of undress. Too bad that Jason isn’t exactly known for being ‘nice’. He carefully wraps up one cotton cloth. Once he’s clean and dry, he applies another. It’s quick and easy work. The slight chill does wonders against his flush skin.

The worn form of Nightwing crawls from the side of the building. There’s a pretty good bruise on his cheek Jason is 90% sure that the acrobat had a less than graceful landing. He’s always been weird about nudity. Even back when they mostly had the same parts. He rolls his eyes as the man pointedly tries not to look at him. He can’t help scoffing at the false modesty.

“ Hood. You shouldn’t do this out in the open like this. Anyone could see you. “

Everyone knows Jason is an omega, by extension that means Red Hood. It’s one of the reasons why his territory is so well protected. No one wants to cross an omega. While the fangs in their mouths were now more for scruffing kits, no one had forgotten the days when they were for hunting prey and tearing out throats.

He would flash his at Dick but he’s wearing his helmet and would probably just looks stupid. He manages to get the other pad off. It’s absolutely drenched. His left teet is definitely working harder than the right. The sheer weight of the cotton makes a loud squelch as it hits the little plastic bag at his feet.

He snorts. “ And you know what they’d say N? Best tits in Gotham. “

The alpha’s face is anything but amused. The furrow of his brow and spike in his scent is territorial and aggressive. It’s laughable really considering the fact that between the two of them, Jason is actually the one in charge of protecting the pack. It’s all a part of being the lead omega.

Whether Bruce or Dick want to accept it or not.

“ Stop objectifying yourself like that. “

Jason enjoys the feeling of being clean and dry as he gets the other cotton adhesive on. It’s a welcome sensation. Especially when he straightens his armor and it’s a little less chafing and tight.

“ It’s only objectication if I say I’m only a nice pair of tits Wing. Luckily I’ve got a nice set of thighs too.“

He pays Dick no mind as he stands and packs away his used pads to be thrown away later. He might have to call it an early night at the rate. With the way fall is quickly approaching his heat is just dying to make an appearance. Perhaps he could get away with offering himself to the foster system. With the amount of milk he’s making now it would be better for the pups who need it to benefit instead of it all going to the trash.

“ Hood! “ The sound is a scandalized growl. It’s funny enough that Jason throws his head back and laughs free and clear. With the voice modulator it’s mean and menacing. Amusement bubbles in his chest. He can’t help taking off his helmet so that Dick can take in just how wide his smile is.

“ Sorry Wing. I’m a pretty girl. What can I say? “

Talia is nothing but progressive. While many omega’s in the west suffer from low self esteem. Jason learned his worth quickly. Confidence is beauty. The more one loves themselves, adores them selves and takes time to know themselves the more they blossom. It’s a deep healing that not everyone gets to understand. A privilege for a few chosen omegas. He cocks his head and smiles and see’s the exact moment Dick starts losing his footing in the conversation.

The alpha is tongue tied.

“ That’s not what I mean and you know it Hood. “

Jason shrugs. Once he’s got his stuff away he’s ready to run roofs and actually get some work done.

“ Sorry Goldie. It’s 2021 and haven’t you heard? Red Hood says free the tiddies. “

He doesn’t wait for a response as he makes a running start towards the edge of the building. It’s always such a thrill. He tucks a bit to clear the gap. The moment his legs touch the concrete the sound is silent despite the bulk of his frame. Dick calls after him but he loses the words in the wind. Laughter bubbles up in his throat. He wouldn’t be a prude just because his family wanted to be sexually repressed more than they wanted to be happy.

Dick doesn’t try to catch up with him and Jason finishes the night patrolling with Tim and Stephanie.

He manages to get an entire three hours out of the next set of pads. Instead of changing out in the open he accepts Alfred’s invitation back at the manor for a warm bath and cookies. Tim stares at his chest while Jason gets himself decent.

Tim is a gorgeous omega, with a slender petite frame and porcelain doll-like features. He always seems to get shy in the presence of Jason’s more unconventional curves.

Jason knows what low self esteem looks like. The younger omega wears it no matter how much bravo he tries to exude. Jason brushes against him briefly and lightly. His usual fragrance is marshmellowy from the sweetness of milk that clings to it.

There’s an immediate blush as Tim ducks away. Clearly he’s embarrassed from being caught. Though in reality where is the shame in a little boob appreciation amongst omegas?

“ You know Timmy, you gotta stop wearing bras. Maybe if you show a glimpse of those pretty pink nips Kon would take the hint. “

Tim goes red from his ears to his chest. Jason can practically see the steam coming from his ears. He slaps his hands over his petite breast quick enough to hurt. Jason wants to let him scamper off but instead he presses into his space even more. Long gone is the perfume of pup, now that Tim has come fully into his omega hood. Every day his scent leans more and more towards caramel and sugar.

“ Uhg you’re such a jerk. “

Tim tries to dodge out of his hold but Jason gets him anyway. The omega yelps and Jason ducks him right between each swollen peck. They are red and tender from patrol. He hasn’t put on new pads yet so some milk beads at his nipples. The little shriek Tim lets out is hilarious.

“ You’re going to get milk in my hair! Jason stop- God you suck- “

The omega fights and Jason lets him go before the two actually get into it. It’s light and playful. Well for the most part. Tim gets some milk on his face and the teen honest to God looks terrified. He curses all the way to the shower stall to take another quick bath all while Jason cackles at his misfortune.

“ I swear to God, when I start milking I'm going to get you back Ten fold! “

Jason rolls his eyes. As if.The last thing Jason’s afraid of is milk. It’s a natural thing. God everyone in this pack is repressed.

“ We’ll see about that Timberella! “

The omega hisses and Jason has to hold back a laugh as he leaves the shower. He’s so light and high from the interaction that he completely for gos a shirt. Not that he really wants to wear one. Not with how milk heavy and tender his chest is. Alfred’s always been pretty cool about it too. Being from the 60’s and all that jazz.

Jason maybe gets half way through the cave before the sound of metal crashing draws his attention. Dick walks cleanly into one of the metal tables in the middle of the lab space, knocking over tools and gadgets.

Bruce is thoroughly unimpressed from where he’s helping Damian stretch before bed. He’s in half of his costume, suppressors and scent blockers gone. The sheer disappointment in Damian’s gaze is astonishing.

“ Richard, please control yourself. “

The alpha looks like a deer caught in headlights, his mortification absolutely palpable in the air.

Jason does catch his eyes on his chest though. He smirks and sees the moment horror grows in those bright blue eyes. Instead of heading towards the stairs he decides to circle back towards the group.

Bruce chuffs from his position on the floor. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing but does tilt towards him in reverence. It’s been the biggest change in their dynamic. Bruce finally learning to respect Jason as not only a pack mate, but the pack omega. He greets him with a scenting.

Unlike Dick the alpha seems to pay little attention to his milking.

Damian’s puppy nose twitches as he leans towards him. It makes his heart flutter really. While Damian would never ask, Jason has thought of offering his breast many times. While Technically too old for it, they’ve all done their fair share of growing up too quickly. Something that Jason Laments as well as appreciates.

He scents Damian more thoroughly than Bruce, making him bristle. The boy tries to move out of his hold, hands swatting him away.

“ Todd cease your pestering immediately! If I smell of milk my peers will assume I still breastfeed. “

Jason snorts and pulls back from the prickly pup. Bruce gets a stupid fond look on his face and for a brief moment he feels it echoing on his lips.

“ And what’s wrong with that? If your pack omega is milking of course as a pup you’re welcome to it. “

Damian’s green eyes widen a fraction. His mouth opens in disbelief. Clearly, Damian in fact did not know that. Bruce stares as well, his scent turning into a sweet blend of ‘love-admiration-awe’. It draws a shiver up Jason’s spine. The tender mix of affection from his pack blankets over him like a net of spun sugar.

Jason doesn’t know why he feels drawn to look at Dick. The alpha hasn’t said anything in the past minute. He cuts his gaze to the stone still alpha and his heart flutters in excitement. The looks of jealousy and want is so strong that his intentions sparkle clear like aquamarine in shallow ocean waters.

The alpha is so much more honest when he thinks Jason isn’t looking.

He grins at Dick.

The alpha immediately shrinks in shame and embarrassment.

“ And of course any alpha spending my heat with me. “

#cinnatalks #Alpha!Dick #Omega!Jason #Omegaverse #Answer #Ficlets #Tiddies out #jaydick

[kim-miyeon]

Hell Above-Chapter Ten

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content. read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, suggestive language, slight sexual scenes, pregnancy family issues, mild abuse, angst, 18+

WORD COUNT: 5K

Previous | Next

I Will Soon Forget The Color Of Your Eyes And You’ll Forget Mine

Time was a funny concept. Who knew that time could feel so slow in moments of fast pace and heightened anxiety. Then in the slower passing moments, when your mind drifts off into a deep end, time clicks slowly.

Like it was for Hyunjin.

He sat there, pen in his hand sketching out images that plastered in his mind. Eyes glued into the white sheet, lost in the daze. Each stroke, darker than the next, until the picture became more clear. That with each passing stroke he sketched a woman. A woman imprinted on his mind. Constantly in his heart, stained there forever.

His mind wandered off to moments of your smile. Heart fluttered as he imagined the days he would see you sparkle under the sun rays, skin glowing… you were so radiant. His lips pulled to the side, half smiled trying to replay the sound of your voice. The way you laughed, smelled, touch. Every bit of you… was now a distant memory. Just a faint image of a woman who was there and now was gone. And Hyunjin ached every day from your absence.

A knock at the door cause Hyunjin to jolt with surprise as he looked up from the sketch and saw the head of Jisung pop through the door as he opened.

“Sorry to bug you but,” Jisung paused as he walked over to Hyunjin’s desk holding a garment bag, “your suit is here.”

Hyunjin watched as Jisung walked further and laid the garment bag down on the side couch as he continued, “ your father said that you should meet Jin-Ae at…”

“Did you find her?”

Jisung stood there looking at Hyunjin as he had been cut off. Hyunjin’s demeanor was serious as he looked back at Jisung, trying to get an answer for his question.

“Hyunjin..” Jisung sighed, “it’s been over a month now. Don’t you think that maybe we should st-“

“Keep looking? Yes.” Hyunjin interjected and set his pen down on the desk.

“What if she doesn’t want to be found?”

Hyunjin heart skipped an uneasy beat to Jisung’s question. You had been gone for so long, with no trace of where you could be, and no update if you’ve been seen. It wasn’t a secret that people knew Hyunjin was suffering, and he craved you. He never thought that he could function in a world where you no longer lingered close by and how he could feel a sense of emptiness within him. All in all, Hyunjin knew that if anyone found out that he was sending Jisung out to try and conjure up information on you, it could mean serious punishment.

But Jisung’s words did have incredible meaning behind them. What if you didn’t want to be found? What if you really left everything behind and what if you really didn’t love Hyunjin? All those feelings, Hyunjin tried to suppress. He didn’t want to believe that you could be that cold hearted to capture his heart the way you did and let him pour his most vulnerable self out just so you can break him. You weren’t heartless, at least that’s what he wanted to believe. You were a kind woman. Gentle. Even behind a gun, Hyunjin imagined you as graceful as an angel. Even after knowing that you also had blood on your hands, he couldn’t spare to think that you were a monster in sheep’s clothing.

But you could have been the devil in disguise.

“Keep looking.” Hyunjin croaked out softly and Jisung exhaled loudly as he nodded and turned on his feet to walk back out of the office.

Hyunjin lifted his hands to his face as he rubbed his skin. He groaned at the feeling of the pressure but also the frustration and emotional burnout. How did it come to this? That’s all he thought about. How did any of this occur? He let his mind drift back to the day you left and the morning after, reflecting on a day living in hell.

******************************************************* Hyunjin’s arm extended out to the side of the bed feeling the smoothness of the sheets against his fingertips. His mind in bliss as he recollected bits of moments from the night before. You were here, you were always here. He smiled and pulled his hand back when he realized, you weren’t. His eyes shot opened, straining against the light of the morning as he realized that you weren’t in bed. Was it a dream? Could he have dreamt of you here? He frantically looked around the room for answers and saw his clothes on the ground, but no sign of you being with him.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin flung the sheets over his body, pulling hims self up as he ran out the room and into the living room.

Empty.

You weren’t sitting on the sofa, cozy up in your favorite blanket watching a random show. You weren’t in the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and no pants, cooking you two breakfast. You weren’t in the dining room, setting the table, asking Hyunjin if he preferred juice of coffee.

You weren’t there.

“Fuck..” Hyunjin ran back into his room and grabbed his phone quickly as he began to dial your number. He stood there hands rummaging his hair and looking around.

“The number you are trying to reach has bee-“

“No no NO. FUCK Y/N answer the phone!!”

He dialed again and thought thoroughly about last night. You held a gun at him. You were in the basement of the Lee Mansion. You came home. You told him you would be honest. He made a promise to you. He wasn’t going to do everything he could to keep you next to him. So why did you leave?

That’s when Hyunjin saw it. When his blood stopped cold and ears grew hot. Stomach frozen and breath hitched. The last thing he thought he’d ever see.

Your wedding ring on the bedside table.

“The number you are trying to reach has been disabled.”

“Y/N..”

Hyunjin felt the sickness in the pit of him and he felt the tears burning against his eyes. He walked over to the ring that had been so beautiful places on your finger for two years, sitting on the wooden table. No note. No anything. Just this. You were gone. Hyunjin choked back his tears as he felt his legs give out from the pain and sat down on the floor holding the ring in his hand as he couldn’t hold his tears anymore.

“DAMMIT.”

His phone buzzed and Hyunjin immediately reacted as he turned to grab it faster than light, only to see Jisung’s caller ID pop up. Disappointment was an understatement.

“Hello?” Hyunjin managed to choke out through the tears.

“Hyunjin you gotta get to the office right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin stood up wiping his face.

“Your father’s here.”

******************************************************

Hyunjin walked into the conference room to find his father and mother sitting at the head of the table, Jisung, Chan, and Changbin sitting next to him and Yeji at the front.

Hyunjin looked to his parents and bowed his head in respect. “Hello Father. Hello Mother.”

“Hello my son, care to tell me why your sister called a family meeting?” Hyunjin’s father spoke and Hyunjin confusingly turned to Yeji and she smiled at him.

“I am calling for the removal of Hwang Hyunjin as leader.”

Hyunjin squinted at Yeji who cocked her eyebrow as Hyunjin took a seat next to his fathers. Hyunjin saw Changin’s eyes widened and Chan turned to Hyunjin. Hyunjin’s father laughed.

“Is that so? And what evidence to you have against my son that you feel needs to end with his removal?”

“Your son has been married to the leader of the Lee family for two years and failed to execute her last night during a planned attack that Chan and I put together.

Hyunjin looked at Chan who’s eyes grew and looked back at Hyunjin. Anger stemmed from Hyunjin’s demeanor. A sense of backstabbing came after hearing those words. Jisung looked at Hyunjin in concern as Hyunjin looked down at the table in disbelief of the situation.

“Hyunjin is this true?” Hyunjin’s mother, a gentle woman with a fiery backbone. She cared deeply for her children but learned quickly how to defend herself. Unlike other wives, Hyunjin’s mother was just as untouchable as his father.

“I didn’t know.” Hyunjin looked at his mother, with honest eyes. The saddest he’s ever had and his mother looked back at him in agony of wanting to comfort her son.

“According to the articles of treason within the Hwang family, Hyunjin has committed a crime by allowing a member of the Lee family live. He is also completely overtaken by this woman and I believe has incredible bias towards her. He is unfit to lead.”

“And how, may I ask, did you find this information Yeji?”

“During my absence, I was able to research intensively about the Lee family and traced information to this woman, Lee Y/N. Chan helped me find more information by doing scans. She was kept secret from everytime after the massacre and her one mission was to kill Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s expression changed and he looked at Yeji. To kill him?

“After finding out his information, we did our best to let our leader do what he had to. Which he had ultimately failed.”

Hyunjin felt all this new information overwhelmingZ you’re sole mission was to kill him, so why wasn’t he dead? Was it possible that you did love him and you couldn’t do it? Or was everything a lie?

“Hyunjin.. Yeji..” Hyunjin’s father spoke and looked at the children, “come with me.”

Hyunjin’s father stood and walked out the door as Hyunjin pushed back in his chair and stood to follow. Yeji behind Hyunjin came close and whispered in his ear, “I told you so.”

Once Hyunjin was out of the conference room he turned and grabbed Yeji and slammed her against the wall.

“Are you satisfied yet?”

“Not quite.” Yeji smirked at Hyunjin.

“You’re sick and twisted, you know that? What do you get out of all of this?”

“Watching you suffer.” She clicked her tongue and Hyunjin’s grip loosened

“What?” He said analyzing her.

“Did she come home last night? Did she leave you this morning?”

“How do you—“

“Face it Hyunjin, at the end of the day, she’s going to be the one thing you want and you can never have. And to watch you crumble the way I have all these years will be satisfying.” Yeji’s words rolled off her lips and she smiled darkly.

“HYUNJIN. YEJI. NOW.” Hyunjin’s father yelled from the office down the hallway and Yeji pushed Hyunjin off her and walked towards the room leaving Hyunjin dazed.

As he followed her into the office, he closed the door and Hyunjin’s father cleared his throat.

“Did you know?” Hyunjin’s father asked softly and Hyunjin shook his head.

“No sir, I didn’t know.”

“Removal of the Hwang leader would mean that the next in line would take over.”

Yeji’s eyes sparkled and Hyunjin’s father frowned. “But there will be no removal of the leader Yeji.”

“WHAT!? Father, treason is punishable by death. He let a Lee live.”

“And I heard you did the same with that young boy.”

Yeji silenced and Hyunjin’s father continued, “You are also unfit to lead Yeji and as long as I live, Hyunjin will stay as the rightful heir to this business.”

Yeji clenched her jaw and her breathing intensified.

“Now leave.”

Yeji stormed out to the room and left Hyunjin standing there with his father.

“The woman from the ball?”

Hyunjin nodded slowly to the question as he looked up at his father and his father sighed.

“Did you love her?”

Hyunjin felt his heart tightened and tears formed in his eyes. He knew he had to play a part for his father.

“I didn’t know who she was before today. But I promise that going forth I will not make the same mistakes.”

“I know you won’t, because I will be choosing your wife.”

With that,  Hyunjin’s father patted Hyunjin’s back and left the room with Hyunjin standing there marinating the words that had been spoken. All the information made him feel overwhelmed. He had so many questions and no answers for anything. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed the small silver band with the diamond and looked at it sadly.

He knew you. He had to have known the real you. If you wanted to kill him you would have. If you really hated him then he would be dead. Even last night when you had your chance to pull the trigger, you could have. But you didn’t. You never did. There had to be a piece of you inside that cared for him. He had to know. So he was going to find you. Anyway he knew how. He would find you and keep his promise he made.

He wasn’t letting you go.

A knock came from the door, and Hyunjin turned to see Chan entering and Hyunjin’s sadness turned to disgust. And Chan knew.

“Hyunjin l-“

“You knew.”

“I didn’t-“

“Spare me your bullshit lies Chan I fucking trusted you.” Hyunjin growled at Chan.

“Hyunjin you didn’t know her.”

“Yes I fucking did! I knew her better than anyone! And you just couldn't let me be happy!” Hyunjn yelled.

“You gave your trust to a woman who you couldn’t be honest to. How did you not see all the missing holes in her scans? How did you not think about everyone else!” Chan tried to reason with Hyunjin but it made no difference.

“I was trying to protect you. I wanted to make sure she could be trusted.” Chan softly said as Hyunjin stood there looking at Chan, as he tried to redeem himself. Hyunjin scoffed

“Did you get what you needed then? You helped my sister and now you feel bad?”

“I didn’t know this was her plan. But fuck Hyunjin, Y/N was going to kill you.” Chan stepped closer to Hyunjin.

“So why didn’t she?! Hmm? ! How come I’m still alive, standing in front of you.”

Chan went silent.

“She had two years to kill me!  We lived in the same house, shared the same life! In my most vulnerable moments, she had more than enough chances to take her gun and shoot me!”

Chan stood there thinking. Could you have been truly in love with Hyunjin so much that you couldn’t pull the trigger. But Chan tried to find a viable explanation for why you did what you did, anything that wasn’t love. Because how could two people who shouldn’t be together fall in love. But Chan knew Hyunjin was hurting, and he felt responsible.

“Get out of my face Chan.” Hyunjin stormed out of the room leaving Chan to soak in the atmosphere he had created.

******************************************************* You stood by, far away, as you watched the nurse hold Jeongin’s hand and slowly help him take steps. She smiled at him and he smiled his goofy bright one back. It was so contagious that you could help but smile. It made you happy, to see him slowly recovering. Just the smallest movements that he makes was success in your eyes. You didn’t think Jeongin would make it.

In fact, he almost didn’t.

The doctors said his recovery would take years, and that he may not be able to walk properly and may have other disabilities such as memory loss or muscle spasms. All the negative things that could be a permanent issue never could take away the main concept. Jeongin was alive. That’s all that mattered in the end.

But at what cost? You lost security. You lost your title. You lost Hyunjin. When you let your mind drift off to the night you left, you find yourself in a dark place. One where you can’t breathe, can’t function. It was heart wrenching. You didn’t want to think about how Hyunjin reacted. Then hours after you fled you found out that Yeji had called for his official removal and you knew he found out the truth to who you were. You didn’t know what that meant for you, where Hyunjin’s head was. Did he hate you now?

The month that you have stayed away has brought many hardships and tears. Your grandfather had called for a transition of power to Minho and since then, Minho had been training to take your place. There would have to be a discreet passing of the torch is how you worldly describe the ritual, a ritual that has never been done before in your family's history. You and Minho had to fight. A fight that was written where the victor would be crowned if he spilled blood of his opponent. You wondered if that meant fight to the death, and the thought about killing Minho didn’t tickle your brain or make you feel happy. But knowing him, you wondered if he was ready to kill you. A part of you wondered if he really wanted this too. If any of you did.

You saw the nurse and Jeongin head back into the hospital room and you adjusted your hat as you walked closer to Jeongin’s room. When you turned the corner to see inside, the nurse helped Jeongin lay back down in his bed and she ruffled his hair a bit and smiled. When she began to head out, she looked at you and smiled softly, nodding respectfully before she left and you looked over her shoulder as she walked off. You smiled and walked further and saw the boy look at you brightly.

“Look at you, flirting with the nurse I see.” You teased and he rolled his eyes at you and you laughed.

“Oh shut up, you have to admit she is pretty.” Jeongin slowly sat up and you helped him.

“Prettier than me?” You frowned and Jeongin nudged you.

“Aye, no one is prettier than you.” Jeongin laughed and you smiled as you took a seat next to him.

“You’re recovering really well, faster than anticipated.”

“I have to. Gotta get back on my feet to help you guys.”

“Have you been training for the transition?”

“Well I was in the beginning but um… I sort of had to stop.” You purse your lips as Jeongin looked at you worryingly. You had been waiting to get this weight off your chest for so long.

“Why? You need to train, Minho could get an upper hand on you.” Jeongin began to start his lecture and you reached into your cross body bag as he spoke and pulled on the white long stick.

“Jeongin..” you placed the heavy plastic stick in his hands. The little device showing the word that you still couldn’t believe, but knew had to be true.

Pregnant.

“Y/N..” Jeongin gasped, “ How long-“

“Can’t be very long. The last time I saw Hyunjin was a month ago.” You looked down and tapped your feet together. You couldn’t be surprised. Before all of the Yeji incidents, you stopped taking birth control. You were trying to have a family. Then it was all taken away from you so fast.

“You’re gonna —“

“Keep it? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You responded still looking down and burying yourself in thought.

“Who else knows?”

“Only you. I can’t tell the others. This could be very bad.” You looked up and Jeongin frowned.

“You have to tell Hyunjin” he said in a serious tone.

“I cannot tell him.” You felt fear Tun through you at the thought of looking into Hyunjin’s eyes after everything.

“Y/N.”

“Jeongin I can’t. I’ve been hiding away and if I come out of nowhere he might kill me.” You began to feel your anxiety increase and Jeongin reached his hand out over yours as he tried to calm you.

“He wouldn’t kill you.” He softly said.

“Jeongin we don’t know him the way we used to, he probably has changed his opinion on me. Last I heard, he was dating someone and plans to marry them-“

“Y/n… Hyunjin loves you.”

Hyunjin loves you. Those words shattered the small wall you were building in your heart to cut out the feeling of losing someone so precious. The pain you experienced when you left him made you avoid the whole thing. But at the end of the day you always wondered if Hyunjin loved you still. How could he after everything you did to him. You began to cry softly, tears falling from your eyes down your cheeks as you let your heart feel things you wouldn’t let it.

“Are you okay? Jeongin asked and it was the first time in a long time if anyone had truly asked you, if you were okay.

Because for months you haven’t been. For years, you never were.

“No. I'm not okay.”

********************************************************

“I had a great time tonight Hyunjin.” Jin-Ae Stood in front of her door, wearing a beautiful emerald dress as she looked at Hyunjin, admiring his dark suit and tie. She adjusted the tie softly and Hyunjin lifted his hands to pull hers down.

“I’m glad, thank you.” He politely said trying to end his night faster than it started.

“Do you want to come inside for a drink?” She offered as she twisted her keys in the lock and Hyunjin shook his hands.

“No, I shouldn’t. It’s late and I have to get home.”

“Oh come on! One drink won’t hurt you.” Jin-Ae grabbed Hyunjin’s hand and led him inside. Closing the door behind her she walked over to her kitchen bar, flipping the lights and smiling.

“What can I get you? Scotch, Bourbon,—“

“Do you have any Cabernet Sauvignon? Red?” Your favorite. Hyunjin hadn’t drank wine in so long. He always shared your favorite of dry red wine over dinner. A taste that he hated at first, but grew to love.

“Interesting choice for a man of your nature. Dry red wine wasn’t something that I would have thought you’d enjoy casually.” Jin-Ae grabbed a wine glass and poured the red liquid in less than half way as she walked over to Hyunjin and handed him the drink.

“It’s a taste I’ve grown well acquainted to.” Jin-Ae had Hyunjin sit on her bar stools as Hyunjin lifted the wine glass to take more than a sip of the alcohol. Burning the back of his throat, all he could think about was you.

“Should we talk more comfortably about.. us?”

Jin-Ae caught Hyunjin off guard with her question. He knew that his father had paired her for Hyunjin and she came from another family of mafia leaders. His father thought that a marriage could stem from this relationship and benefit both families, but Hyunjin wasn’t interested in Jin-Ae romantically. He knew where his heart was.“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean.. these small dinner dates are lovely and I am enjoying them. But if we are going to get married shouldn’t we-

“Marriage isn’t definite Jin-Ae.” Hyunjin looked at her more serious taking another sip of his wine.

“But isn’t that the goal. For us to be married?” She looked at him teasingly and Hyunjin clenched his jaw. She smiled softly.

“Your father mentioned that you were in a relationship prior. He assumed you wouldn’t be very accepting to this new phase.”

Jin-Ae leaned in closer to Hyunjin, resting her small hand on his thigh.

“This is all business to me Jin-Ae.” Hyunjin looked at her as she came closer.

“But it doesn’t have to be you know.” Hyunjin began to pull back slowly, her hand gliding up his thigh nearing his dick as she chuckled.

“Jin-Ae..” he whispered.

“We don’t have to be in love to have fun.” Jin-Ae enclosed the space between Hyunjin lips and hers and Hyunjin let her. She kissed him as he responded by kissing her back and letting her hands roam his legs. It was weak. Selfish. The back of Hyunjin’s mind told him to stop because she wasn’t you. The park he felt when you kissed him wasn’t there with her. The butterflies in his stomach were dead when Jin-Ae touched him. He wasn’t being faithful to you at this moment. His mind didn’t click fully until Jin-Aw began to fumble with his belt.

“Stop. I can’t.” Hyunjin pulled back and pushed her hands away.

“Can’t or won’t” Jin-Ae said a bit annoyed and Hyunjin stood from the chair.

“This is just business. You and I.” Jin-Ae facial expression grew disappointed. Hyunjin felt bad for being honest with her, as he suspect that she may have been developing some illusion in her mind that Hyunjin felt the same as her.

“Sorry I should go.”

Hyunjin headed for the door. He shook his head in frustration and scurried to his car before he sat in the seat. He hit the steering wheel hard and cursed out loud. Everything in his life was so twisted. He just wanted to erase everything and just focus on what truly mattered. Hyunjin started the car and began driving back to the home you two had shared together. The home that Hyunjin was told to not return to, in fear of you coming to finish what you started. But every night, this is where he went. In hopes you’d come back to be with him.

When he got to the house and opened the door, he was broken. Angry at the fact that he allowed another woman to touch him, angry that you weren’t home again. He walked in and placed his keys down on the mantle, and looked at the picture sitting there. A picture of you and Hyunjin laughing. How did we get here? He wondered.

It was a daily battle, trying to stay strong enough in front of everyone but feeling so defeated. It never took Hyunjin long to carry the weight of his own body to the couch and curl his legs in. And he cried. Every night.

He was surrounded with your memories. Because that’s all you became anymore, was a memory. You were a piece of his life that he feels so out of touch from. He missed you every day, every second. All while, his grasp of your being was slipping. The way you smelled, the feeling of your hair, how soft your skin was. Everything was fading. He feared as time went on if he would forget, but he had to hold on. He knew you’d be back on day, you had to.  He bit his lip as he sat there in the corner of your shared couch and buried his head into his knees. Another night of hopeless praying to follow

A/N: Hello!!! Another week another dramatic chapter. Hopefully this serves you well!! We are almost to 200 followers 🥺. Thank you guys so much! As always share your thoughts and comments. I love you guys 🥰

Taglist:   @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia@minaamhh @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle​ @hwangful​

#straykids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hyunjin #Hwang hyunjn #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x female reader #seo changbin #lee felix #lee Minho #yang jeongin #kim seungmin #han jinsung #bang chan #skz hyunjin #skz smut #skz imagines #skz fanfic #hell above series

[grimmradiance]

Close to Me: How the Hollow Knight's Fighting Style Reflects Their Trauma (and the Radiance's as well)

So I've been trying to actually beat the Radiance, which means I've been fighting the Hollow Knight. A lot, as a matter of fact, since I'm beans at this game sometimes. I've also been thinking about @lost-kinn's meta about how fighting styles are how Vessels, especially the Little Knight, communicate.

In trying to apply this to the Hollow Knight, I've been coming to some very interesting conclusions, especially taken in context of...Everything Else in the lore, and Everything Else implicated in this by the psychology of it.

There's a lot to cover here, and it tracks through a LOT of different places, including trauma psychology, the relationship between chronic stress and lifespan health, and shape symbolism. Two warnings first:

One: this essay is gonna get heavy. It includes fine-grained discussion of the Hollow Knight's trauma, including discussions of the real-life machanics of psychological abuse, as well as the Extremely Concerning Implications of them harming themself during their boss fight. please read with caution and when you're in a safe emotional place to do so.

Two: This post is not a place for justifying the Pale King. If you read this essay in its entirety and still want to do that, please make your own post; my relationship to the Hollow Knight themself is deeply rooted in my own experiences, so in the context of this discussion I can't promise I won't take it personally.

With that out of the way, let's talk trauma and fighting styles:

We know that the Hollow Knight is trained to be a paragon of fighting skill, through the Pure Vessel fight, and this gives us a fantastic way to compare what they were like before they were made Government Assigned Radiance Jail, and after. Or, in other words, we're given the perfect opportunity to see what the Radiance is doing (i.e. context effects), and what Hollow is (i.e. what we can conclude is reliably consistent as a part of them). Listed here, for reference:

Hollow's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Radiant Shade Soul, which launches a volley of Infection blobs in arcs

A Radiant Desolate Dive, which produces pillars of entwined Void and Light at random intervals

The Infection bursting out of them in random arcs, covering a significant amount of the aerial space of the arena

The Radiance ragdolling their body around trying to hit the Knight

Contact damage from them stabbing themself and falling over atop you

The Pure Vessel's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Pure Shade Soul, which launches a volley of nails in straight lines

A Pure Desolate Dive, which produces nails at specific intervals

A Pure Focus, which causes circular explosions across most of the aerial space in the arena

Lashing out with a Void Arm (word choice intentional)

I've highlighted attacks from each battle that are different, since those are our points of interest here. In addition, both the Pure Vessel and Hollow are exceedingly fond of teleport-spamming in a way that is usually reserved for a specific group of bosses.

Another very important distinction between these two fights: the Pure Vessel doesn't scream. Well, they certainly try to, but no sound comes out. No voice to cry suffering, after all. All of these points have a lot to go into, so let's address them one at a time.

All That Remains: Theoretical Background On The Significance Of Constants

Making comparisons across time is important specifically because humans (and human-like bugs) change. Most personality traits aren't set in stone--they exist as an interaction of someone's internal tendencies, their experiences, and their environment. Speaking of those last two points, not all experiences and environments are created equally. Adverse childhood experiences (ACEs for short) are known to have lifelong implications for a child's health, both physically and mentally. These are events that are so stressful or stressful for so long that they exceed a child's ability to cope and become toxic stress (yes, that's the term in the literature, because it actively damages your organs). They compound, as well--the stress of one ACE makes it harder for a child to cope with another, especially if they overlap.

Some examples of ACEs? Being exposed to physical danger or the threat of physical danger, deprivation of normal social relationships with peers of a similar age, being forcibly seperated from family members, witnessing a loved one being hurt or killed, chronic illness in oneself or a family member, neglect of a child's emotional needs....

Poor fucking Holly. It's a miracle they didn't disintegrate under the pressure. The only other option is that they bent and adapted under that much stress--in other words, most of their personality has been forcibly reshaped by what they've gone through. Anyone who has up-close experience with parentification or complex child abuse already knows: this was by design. I'm not saying the intent was to traumatize the Pure Vessel past several points of no return, but the intent definitely was to reshape their personality for the purpose of being The Vessel. We only see them (the Pure Vessel) in battle after this process is mostly or entirely complete, but we do see them a few times beforehand. I'd like to draw attention to the Path of Pain cutscene right now.

I've seen people talking about the look the Vessel and the King share as a sign that TPK really does love his child. That might be true, but it's definitely not relevant when it comes to how abuse works. This is, in fact, exactly how the cycle of abuse uses affection as a tool. Long periods of abuse or neglect, smoothed over by small periods of affection that placate the survivor? That's textbook love bombing, the kind that forms stubborn trauma bonds and facilitates unhealthy dependency. Forgive me for not giving the Higher Being of knowledge and prescience the benefit of the doubt on that one. (/s)

Team Cherry knows about the importance of parallels and dissonance. There's a reason the music in the second phase of the Hollow Knight fight plays in the Path of Pain. There's a reason it cuts out the moment the battle with the Kingsmoulds is over, instead of at the room transition. There's a reason it doesn't cut out in the Black Egg. Actually, there's two potential reasons, which could also coexist: either little Hollow trusts the Pale King to keep them safe, even after the borderline torture that they were just subjected to, or big Hollow is so hypervigilant that they're in full functioning-through-trauma mode even while they're at death's door.

If you don't see how much the Pale King scarred his child at this point, I'm not sure we were playing the same game.

Walking the Straight Line: How the Pale King's Teachings Show In the Pure Vessel

The Pale King loves order and control. Everything about the White Palace and every decision we see him make implies this. Everything is spotless white walls and well-maintained gardens; the only signs of disorder are hidden away, either in his workshop or in The Pit™. This also reflects in the Pure Vessel's title--pure as in holy, but also pure as in without flaw. Considering the Nailsmith's emotional state after completing the Pure Nail, TPK's fate with his Perfect Controlled Kingdom, and the Godmaster ending as a whole, attaining perfection is not a good thing in any sense.

We know the Hollow Knight isn't perfect--that's the whole catalyst for the plot. But considering their upbringing and their fighting style as the Pure Vessel, their imperfections absolutely kill them emotionally. I'll spare the lecture on how perfectionism affects neurodivergent kids even more severely than neurotypical kids, if only to keep this post to a reasonable length (look up "twice-exceptional children" if you'd like to know the theory I'm glossing over in more depth). But, in essence, the deck is doubly stacked against them--they have a higher goal to reach, and far more obsctacles in their path, including their own emotional scars.

I've already discussed how Hollow isn't meant for this kind of stress in a physical sense in other posts. They're not prepared for it emotionally, either--the Pale King wants perfection, and they can't even stand up straight (every spoonie in the audience already knows how exhausting people's obsession with Standing Up Straight is). There's another page on their stack of emotional baggage, even BEFORE you consider that the Pure Vessel knows their perfection is what bought them a ticket out of the Abyss.

Bringing Teleportation To A Sword Fight: Where The Pure Vessel Reveals Their Fears

How else are they going to cope with that need for perfection, that need to prove themselves worthy of the reason their life was spared, by being flawless in any way they can? Being a mechanical, flawless fighter puts so much pressure on them, both literally (repetitive strain injuries fucking HURT) and figuratively--if you're predictable, the only sure way to win is to mop the floor with your opponents before they figure you out. Hell, that's the way most people play their first run of Hollow Knight, by throwing themselves at the bosses over and over until they figure out the patterns. That strategy is inherently going to fail against an opponent that's, say, an immortal higher being.

There's no way that the Vessel didn't figure this out, and yet none of their TPV specific attacks are positioned randomly--the nails are always evenly spaced, and the Focus explosions are always in a specific height region of the screen. That's clinging to survival strategies even when they become maladaptive in its purest form.

Another dip into psychological theory: let's talk about disorganized attachment. Attachment styles describe how someone's relationships to their main caregiver(s) influence their understanding on relationships in general. Disorganized attachment is a result of an upbringing of inherently unstable parent-child relationships, where there's no way of a child predicting whether an adult is going to be delighted to see them, ambivalent, upset, or otherwise. If my parent woke up some days saying "all right my child, time for the Infinite Buzzsaws Obstacle Course," I'd be the same way. In adulthood this manifests as an inability to form a stable sense of self-concept as well as concepts of others. Mission accomplished, TPK, there's no will to break if you broke it yourself.

This is where the fighting styles as communication comes in--Hollow needs to keep Ghost at a distance to fight, but also wants to be closer to their sibling (the only being who has a chance of understanding what they've been through), BUT also has a trauma-rooted fear of attaching to people, as their experiences with attachment are inherently unpredictable and dangerous. Hence, both the teleportation that doesn't seem to match their fighting style any more reliably than "aim at the thing attacking you" and the second attack unique to the Pure Vessel--they're quite literally lashing out in pain to push people away. There's a reason that attack is so reminiscent of the Thorns of Agony.

Of note is that Holly does seem to teleport like the bugs of the Soul Sanctum do (favoring the edges of a screen, rather than going wherever like Dream Warriors do), which makes sense--they're the most obvious answer to the question "how did they learn how to teleport, anyways?" However, Sanctum bugs have abilities designed to capitalize on this, like homing spells and slashes from above. I can only assume this means that someone saw Holly's proficiency with the nail and assumed it translated to other forms of combat, and didn't feel the need to give them at least a bit of a primer on how to make the best use of it. There's another tally for the Hollow Knight as an autism metaphor.

Trauma Bonds: How the Radiance Speaks Through Hollow

Now, we're back to the Black Egg, and two people stuck in the same sinking ship. The thing that makes this hurt so badly is that Holly and the Radiance are at complete cross purposes here, and yet they both want the same thing:

They both want out, no matter the cost. For the Radiance, this means forsaking the pacifistic nature of the moths and nuking Ghost personally.

For Hollow, this means forsaking the way they were raised and everything that was bludgeoned into their personality: the only way out is to fail, give up control, and trust that Ghost will do what needs to be done.

Imagine how much pain they're in to actually go for it. Going against a literal lifetime of conditioning is something that takes the average person years to even consider, let alone go through with. It's a form of learned helplessness--if you try to break free and fall, again and again, it actively discourages further attempts. Breaking through learned helplessness is an interesting process, because it generally involves re-establishing a sense of control by recalling previous events where the person was able to change their situation.

Which, as far as we know of, are nothing but traumatic memories for Hollow. It's very unlikely that they'd break through it on their own, but we know they have by the time we see the second phase of their fight. This is them at their most desperate: the same music as the Path of Pain, the way they let, or can't stop, the Radiance throw their body around, the way they actively try to let the Radiance out by stabbing themself.

You'd think that giving up and learned helplessness are inherently compatible, but when giving up both goes against your core personality, and involves your active participation, they're in direct opposition. So either Holly was able to process all their trauma by themself (which I doubt, judging by how much effort the player has to go through to even see Ghost's and Hollow's traumatic memories), or someone gave them a nudge or three in that direction.

Considering that there's been someone living in Holly's head who has a vested interest in them Not Doing Their Duty, I think we know who. And the thing is, I think we watch Hollow have this breakthrough during their battle. Imagine for the first time in decades, at least, you can move. You're in pain from being in the same position, probably hallucinating from sensory deprivation, with an infection sucking at what strength your body has left. And there's this little creature who looks ready to fight you, who seems to have let you go for that exact purpose.

And you look down, and both you and the Radiance recognize them from a place rooted deeper than consciousness, in the murky depths of trauma. You see the other Vessel who just as easily could have been you, and who looks so much stronger for not being you, for being an imperfect, willful creature. And the Radiance sees history threatening to repeat itself, another one of the Wyrm's cursed children seeking to lock her away once more.

What else do you do when you're triggered? You scream, and you go on instinct, and you retreat into your head. Those first blows, with the epic music? That's the Vessel the Pale King forged, the fighting machine that will endure unimaginable stress because it knows no other way. What snaps you back out of dissociation? Usually, either the passage of the triggering stimulus, or an even more relevant stimulus (severe pain from getting beaten up by a nail, for example).

The tragedy is this: we know this isn't a triumph. I think most of us went into that fight the first time, knowing we'd be putting the Hollow Knight out of their misery. The music turns tragic, Hollow screams, and then we see the Radiance and Hollow themself break through: the Radiance trying to fight Ghost directly with the resources she has, and Hollow trying to help her along.

For what it's worth, Hollow even had the right idea, when it came to letting themself rest while helping Ghost stop the madness their father started--they were just digging for the Radiance in the wrong place. The dynamic between the Radiance and the Hollow Knight is something I could write on for pages and pages, but this has gone on for long enough. Tune in next time, where I'll presumably talk about this same topic but in reverse with regards to the Radiance.

#hollow knight #hk #the pure vessel #the pale king #the radiance #my meta #the higher being speaks #i hate fact-checking my abuse infodumps because the ableism against personality disorders is EVERYWHERE #but here this monster of an essay is #anyways the hollow knight as a character sniped my trauma on sight #so i may be a tiny bit biased here But Also I'm Right #abuse // #child abuse // #emotional abuse // #i legit do not know what tags to throw on this #also the overarching title is a reference to the song of the same name from just shapes and beats because. yeah

[yanderecandystore]

Rip Tumblr D-do you have any dragon ocs that might kidnap their s/o? Also I know that this is a stupid question but can I call myself Cold anon? ;-;

Hello 🍨 Cold ❄️!! I'm really glad you sent me this request!

 The current app that I use for writing is bugging out a lot, so I'm sorry if there are many grammar errors and mistakes here and there.

 And uh... Cold? I think I fucked up your ask? I think I got a little too excited and went in a different direction?? If you don't like it I understand, I could always do another one 😳😋

 TW/Tags: Guess who is being an emotional ball once again?? Me! Yey! Send help! // look, I'm sorry but, low-key? This is edginess overload lol (medieval bitch times, which by that I mean: dark times with terrible people in it) // deaths // abuse of power // Reader said: eat the rich // non-binary reader just because // cursing // slight plot twist? But, like, bad plot twist // soft dragon boi 

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

You curious little thing - [Yandere!Dragon x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

" Deep in the forest, up in the mountains, legend says that a dragon sleeps deep within the caves. And as the old story goes, gold awaits inside his domain, but only those courageous enough to enter the deep cave and defeat the dragon, would be able to take the creature's treasure.

Many have persuaded the quest of defeating said dragon, yet no one ever came back to tell the story.

And while you sit at the comfort of your small cottage reading about the old tales of the dragon's cave, you can't help but consider the story to be just that, a story. A piece of fiction made to scare the local children away from the mountains, or to enchant those that were easily invested into these types of stories.

It seems like you're one of those that were fascinated by the old tales. Regardless of if you find it true or not. The old tales still hold a mysterious charm that manages to keep you intrigued no matter what age you re-read them.

Tales of the forest spirits protecting their land with mischievous wit, tales of monsters that crawled out of your bed to cause nightmares on the simple minded, tales of mighty dragons who could easily rule the world if they so pleased to.

Yet they didn't. Either because they didn't want to, or maybe they really didn't exist. Who knows, right [Y/N]? Not that you, a simple commoner, would know any better.

Although, from the tales you read, isn't always the common folk the ones to first encounter these things?

It always ends bad, but still.

A commoner would be the first one to be affected by the wrath of such supernatural creatures.

However, as stated before, there is no way of knowing if such a thing is real or not, right? It's been eons since the last time someone even mentioned a dragon's presence in your kingdom, and it's been centuries that the concepts of dragons had fallen into the mythological category.

There hasn't been a single person to mention the beast's names in years. There was no visible way of them being remotely real, right? That sounded absurd.

But of course, like all tales are written, your's seem to have reached the beginning of your own personal adventure when the king mentioned the need of soldiers willing to face the beast inside the cave, who was presumably hibernating throughout this whole time.

And of course, the public had only laughed at this sort of news. You see, your king's authority over the entire land has been dangling by a thin thread. The taxes, the frauds, the imminent wars threatening to occur at any second now, has helped a small portion of people to start questioning if not downright rebelling against him and his reign of terror.

The revolution was rising slowly, yet something needed to push it forward, the straw that broke the camel's back.

"What could it be?" You might be wondering.

How about kidnapping and force recruitment with the help of blackmailing? Specifically targeting the poorest people in the kingdom and taking their family members hostage if they don't comply?

Sounds so evil that you may think it's bullshit right? So inhumane, that the villain of this story might as well be your crazy king, right?

Oh, [Y/N]. You're absolutely right, yet a little bit wrong considering that even if such an evil act sounds absurd, it's absolutely real. It's part of your reality now.

And even if your king is a vile creature of pure hatred and deserves to be fed to the rats, by being a terrible ruler, husband, and father- You were soon about to learn that there are worse, more powerful forces that can easily overpower the insanity of that sad, pathetic evil man.

To your dismay, your family was one of the chosen ones to suffer from this. Because of poverty, you and your father lived in the outskirts of the kingdom. It was perfect for the king and his soldiers, as you and your father lived distant from the main town, if any of you two ever die on the process of going into the beast's cave, or disobey the king's orders, no one would notice if you two were suddenly wiped from the face of the Earth.

And of course, holding hostage just one person was easier than multiple family members. Although your king was absolutely insane if not completely psychotic, you could at least understand how he moved his pieces in this massive game of chess.

I mean, yes, you understand his reasoning. Still doesn't mean he is right.

Soldiers didn't wait too long to show up and try to force your father to go with them. But you didn't take none of that, you wouldn't let your dying father be taken by them.

You screamed, you shout, you let venom spill out of your mouth by each profanity you threw at the soldiers and the king they claimed to serve. It didn't take long before the general noticed that you were one of the rascals forming a rebellion. Well, you didn't really need to be officially part of the revolution, just disagreeing was enough to make the general decide to take you instead of your old father.

You can still remember how he was trying to scream his lungs out, to stop the soldiers somehow.

This was it, right? The day, for you and possibly all these other commoners to die in the name of an asshole. How honoring.

Among you and other miserably unlucky individuals, there were all kinds of different people. From innocent, to criminals. From young to old, from poor to… Well, mildly not as poor. Nobles would never be subjected to this, you know that. All of these individuals were carried away by a carriage. All crammed into one little vehicle, away from the public sight.

After being far enough from the town and now deep within the forest, the soldiers commanded all of you to get out of the carriage as now you'll begin to walk straight to the mountain while carrying… Gold?

"- It's a gift from the king. Survive long enough, and you'll be able to take it with you." The general said, his tone being condescending as ever.

You could…. Technically run away, right now. They haven't really put any restrains in any of you-

"- Over there!" A soldier alerted the general, who looked little surprised by seeing two of your group running away with the gold in hands.

Without hesitation, or even a slight hint of empathy, the general shot both with his crossbow. Their bodies fall flat in the forest ground, with all that gold and jewelry accompanying them. All that gold being wasted and left behind, just like the bodies of the people carrying them.

You felt sick, the need to vomit was surfacing through your stomach. This- This is terrible!? This is so cruel! How can they continue to walk like nothing happened??

God, how did a once prospering kingdom has now fallen in such a low pit?

As you can imagine, the walk was torturous and it felt like it was going forever. Of course, a lot of questions were emerging about the strange situation.

One: how did the king know and was certain that the myth of the dragon was real and that the dragon was awake?

Two: why didn't he call his own army to attend to such issues instead of the common folk being forced to go with his wishes?

Actually, now that you think about it, why are there so few skilled, trained soldiers taking a bunch of people to a cave unprepared?

Carrying a bunch of gold for fucks sake, this stuff is heavy!

If it was truly a gift from the king to your group, then why were you obligated to carry it all the way to the cave? Sounds unreasonable and if anything, absolutely ridiculous. It would only slow your group down, and for what?!

Sounds like a trap to be…. Honest. Wait a minute-

"- Shit!" You whisper to yourself at the sudden realization that you're fucked, which unfortunately, caused a soldier that was near you to hear it.

"- Nothing sir, I just stabbed my foot in a rock." You weren't lying though. This whole walk bullshit your doing has destroyed your low quality sandals, and now you could basically feel the ground stabbing you every time you stept.

The soldier just grunted at you, and as much as you wished to take his sword and shove it up his bum, you couldn't help but go back to your original train of thought before you got interrupted.

You were going straight to death right? You're not supposed to fight a dragon, but rather serve as an offering?? What?!

You can't even speak or alert your fellow companions in any way. The last three people that have spoken without being directed to, were shot in the head.

The realization has sadly come in too late for you to make any plans now, as you forward as your group walk upwards, following the mountain's trail, you find yourself facing not only the entrance to a presumably dangerous cave infested with predators, but also the gates to your inevitable death.

You would now have to think of how to escape the soldiers and their arrows, or how to possibly make your death less painful. Being eaten by a dragon doesn't sound really fun.

When entering the cave you're met with more-

"- Are you fucking kidding me?!" Someone screamed, while easily accepting their death.

You couldn't help but agree with the person. While entering the cave, you're met with a great ravine, going in a spiral fashion deeper into the cave.

In other words, you have not only walked all the way up to a fucking mountain, but you would now need to get down into a creepy cave.

You almost considered asking for some eternal peace before remembering that your father's life was still in line. You just… Don't want to go away like this, you don't want your father to go like this.

And once again your group, that was now a lot shorter due to the amount of deaths along the way, was now following the general once again. Only this time, the soldiers were behind all of you, probably to guarantee no one ran away. Too late for that now anyway, so why even bother?

You didn't realize how you were on the very front of everyone, side by side with the man that was leading you to your doom.

You felt his eyes fall into your form a couple of times, but he never really turned his face to look at you. After a long silence of just a bunch of miserable people stepping closer to a terrible plan that was not well thought-out, he said:

"- You know it already. Right?" His voice was rough and still held the nonchalant tone that was written all over his face. You doubt this man could have ever smiled once in his life.

You almost choked with your own breathing, the nerve of this man! You couldn't help but let out the only thing you have wanted to say this whole time:

"- I hate you." You say as your eyes start to become a little watery. The feeling of desperation was eating you up ever since you entered the carriage, but only now you felt how bad the teeth of despair hurt.

"- I know kid. Me too." He responded, his tone never changed, even while saying that.

You guess he didn't really appreciate his job as much as you thought he did. Yet, you couldn't find in your heart to pity the man, as he was complicit in all of this mess. But I guess, you do hope for this man to find some sort of redemption, either presently or in his after life.

You still think he did a lot of bad things of course, his crimes are probably never gonna be forgiven. But just because of that, it didn't mean he couldn't start to do some good actions now, not for the sake of finding inner forgiveness, but for the sake of others. For the sake of the innocent people being not only met with unfair treatment, but also being ruled by a psychotic tyrant who is a complete imbecile. No wonder the queen and his son were missing for so long, you would probably have run away if you were them too.

When finally coming down, with your feet now hurting like a bitch, you can find some time for yourself to appreciate the beauty of this place.

You know, before you lose your head? To a freaking dragon??

Honestly, you at least hope that the stories you read were true, because holy fuck- Imagine how exhausted your body is from walking for what it feels like an eternity, holding jewelry made with gold, only to find an empty cave?

Then you would be able to go feral kill one or two soldiers before getting your ass beaten. As you don't have enough reason to just do that right now, right?

You expected to be met with disappointment, but what you truly saw while finally getting into the dragon's territory, you were able to not only feel enchanted by the magnitude of these treasure places, but also forget the danger of the situation, as you look around and remember the tales you read.

This is so much better than what you have imagined it to be like. It's… Mesmerising! It 's beautiful! The underground pond, the glowing crystals, the pile of gold, the stolen statues of the great warriors of your kingdom, golden weapons all scattered across the floor, the white feathered looking dragon staring down at you from his nest, that little tea set that is really cute and fragile yet it probably cost way more than your house, your clothes, and all of your furniture all together.

Oh no wait-

"- We came with what you asked for, Artemio." Said the general fast walking his way to be in between you and the beast.

To say you were freaking out would be an understatement. You knew dragons were huge, but you didn't expect it to be so… Huge! You know??

Oh my God, you're dead-

You looked around to see only you, your group of commoners ready to be probably eaten, and the general. And while looking for the soldiers, you noticed them trying to close the opening with a man built gate, created to keep the beast.

But obviously, that gate looks absolutely ridiculous, there is no way this guy couldn't destroy it by simply slapping it. It's quite laughable, yet…

You feel this is not just a coincidence or a bad made joke. You have a feeling they know the gate is essentially useless. It was really old, so, clearly this has been going on from quite some time.

Has… Has your kingdom been doing this for centuries?? Bringing offerings to please the dragon and beg it to sleep for more centuries to come?

"- This is absolute bullshit!" You screamed, not noticing how your heart was racing and your breathing had started to become frantic. You were panicking while coming to terms with the fact that your whole world was collapsing in front of your eyes. Your scream clearly surprised your fellow companions, yet it didn't surprise the dragon or the general.

The dragon had, well, a dragon face, so you have no idea what it was thinking, and the general was still with the same non-expressive face since the beginning of this stupid trip!

"- What?! You have nothing to say?? You brought us here to die, at least say something, you coward!" You were fuming with rage. How can a person like this be so annoying even when he is not saying anything.

He looks at you with an understanding expression, yet you don't think about what it could mean as you reach to one of the many golden weapons spread around across the floor. They were heavy and quite frankly completely useless, yet you still hold into that golden sword like your life depended on it.

And it did, actually.

Have you gone insane or just completely blind with rage and the instinct of survival? You're not sure just yet, but you'll lose your last bit of sanity to stand your ground.

You aren't going down without a fight.

"- Come at me, you big bird!" You yelled, looking kinda epic and kinda goofy at the same time. You probably shouldn't insult a dragon who hasn't decided who he'll first, it may change his appetite.

Before the general could interfere with your foolish behavior, the one and only had spoken:

"- Where exactly is what we had agreed on?" Like in true entitled brat fashion, Artemio asked the general while putting his head in his pawn.

"- We had to eliminate a couple of the troublemakers. In the end some of the gold was left behind in the progress-"

"- No, I mean, where truly is what I asked for? The jewelry is quite frankly ugly, the gold coins don't matter as I already have plenty, and none of these humans look really edible. Or well… Appetising." You could swear a pouty face was appearing in Artemio's face, yet only one thing had taken your attention. That's the reason why they needed so many disposable people? Oh… Wait a minute, did the dragon just call everyone here too ugly to eat?

"- If you can't compromise with your promises, then I think we'll have to change the deal-" Artemio started getting up from his nest, stretching out like a cat.

"- Oh, please no, can't you just-" The general panicked, thinking that the dragon would destroy the village.

"- I want that one." Artemio said. Pointing at you.

"- What?" You looked behind you just in case you were in the way of someone else. No, you weren't.

"- Uhn… What?" Oh look, even the general was confused as you, and well, the entire cast of people that were thrown in this hell hole.

"- Yes, that one holding the spear."

"- Just… That one, or-"

"- Just that one. And I won't get out of the cave for at least a century, I promise!" He sounds and acts like both a child and a cat, preparing himself to pounce on its prey any moment now.

"- ….. Okay then, fair enough. It's your problem now kid." He said, making a motion for all the other captives to follow him. Which they gladly did, because, you know, they aren't the protagonist of the story.

"- What?! You can't leave me here, you bastard!!" You screamed, although subconsciously you already knew his answer.

"- I think I'm just doing that!" He screamed from the other side of the cave, fuckz they really didn't waste no time at all, did they?

Sigh, who are you kidding? If you were one of them, you would have ran away as fast as you could. At least some gave you sympathetic looks before going back to their "freedom".

You heard the heavy gate closing. Well, shit. It's you and him now.

You tried going back into your original threatening stance, but before you could, you saw a glimpse of Artemio coming in at full speed, taking no time to jump at you. This is it [Y/N], send your last prayers to your father and your old life before-

Before he starts licking you... like a dog? What?

He pauses and you tense up, looking up and seeing a dragon powerful enough to destroy villages, looking at you like a precious little gift.

Artemio picks you up and hugs you in an almost bone breaking hug. Confused and frustrated with how the situation was going, you asked:

"- A-Aren't you going to kill me?" Yes, it was a pathetic question, if a dragon isn't killing you, then why ask it to do it??

"- I have been so lonely since the last human that I chose! I usually prefer to have many friends around but all of the other options seemed so boring, you know?" His voice is oddly cheerful and sweet to someone that sees humans as pets, or "friends". So… What is really going on here?

"- I thought you ate people." You said, still frustrated that you were betrayed and lied to through this entire day.

"- Well, I guess I can eat humans-" Says the giant bird-lizard acting like a child trying to lie about doing something wrong- "- But I really don't like doing it, I promise!"

"- I just wanted someone to play with, you know? All the dragons that I know are just so boring and take everything seriously." He huffed in annoyance.

"- Well… Do you-" You started questioning if you really want to to know the answer, but curiosity sure is killing this cat!- "- What happened to the other humans that were here?"

"- Oh, they… Uhn, they died, because of your shirt lifespan and all ya know." He responded.

"- Oh… Then why did the soldiers bring us here saying you were going to eat us?" Why not go full balls in and ask everything, right?

"- It's- Sigh, it's really embarrassing, but I didn't know any other way of how to ask for company down here." He said shyly, which only confirmed your suspicion of this being complete bullshit.

"- And you threaten to burn a whole kingdom just because of that?" You asked.

"- Yes!" He answered with no shame whatsoever. This guy was a dog wearing a dragon costume, you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"- Sigh, oh my God…"

"- Hey, uhn, what's your name?" Artemio spoke, he thought that he should also ask questions as he wants to be able to enjoy every second with his new pet.

"- It is [Y/N]. And you're Artemio, right?" You can't believe any of this, really. You went from an absolutely terrible life or death situation, to a… Well, you can't even tell what the hell is going on anymore!

"- [Y/N].... [Y/N]! [Y/N], that's such a good name!" The excited dragon repeated your name multiple times before interrupting your peace once again. You can't be mad at him, but-

Come on, you needed some time to accept everything that just went down. You didn't even notice you were on the floor until Artemio was in front of your view again.

"- [Y/N]!" He was so easy to please, that just saying your name was fun to him.

"- Sigh… Hey Artemio." You sighed as there was no way in hell this dragon would leave you to deal with this weird feeling of emptiness arising in your chest.

"- What do you want to do now?" He asked cheerfully, but not completely oblivious to your feelings of being abandoned underground with him by force.

You stayed silent for a second, again, trying to come with terms with this new lifestyle that you were subjected to. You technically could ask Artemio to open the gate, he doesn't seem to have any intention of hurting you. But who knows? He has a different point of view in this whole thing than you do.

Silence was taking over the cave, but not exactly an awkward silence, just… A comforting one.

The water dripped from the ceiling. You felt the ground underneath you shake a little as Artemio followed your "guidance". He decided to lay on his back near you.

He wasn't really doing any self reflection at all, he just wanted to join in with you, yet all he could think is how happy he is to have someone else to spend time with.

You may only see him slightly from the corner of your eyes, yet you still feel a little, strange, by seeing a dragon mimic your ways.

You don't feel nessecerally homesick, but you do miss your father. You absolutely hate the idea of coming back to the kingdom, but… If you could see your father one last time, and probably help him with the gold that is in this place….

Maybe you could even-!.....

"- Artemio."

"- Yes, [Y/N]!*

"- AAH!" He turned himself to meet your face so fast that you whimpered because of his sudden motion.

He was going to check if you were okay, but you stopped him showing that you were fine, just a little spooked.

"- Hey, Artemio-" You said again, as you were still reformulating your question in your head-

"- Do you know how to burn an entire castle?"

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere oc fanfiction #yandere oc x reader #yandere dragon #yandere dragon x reader #yandere dragon fanfiction #yandere fanfiction #yandere fanfic #yandere monster #yandere monster fanfiction #special delivery request #special delivery fanfictions

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Please give us your wuthering heights takes 👀

Ha, I mostly rant about how high school classes are being predisposed to hating the book because they’re told to read it as this sort of windswept romance, which rings horribly false to many readers - but that you can overcome a lot of that when you understand that it is, in effect, a horror novel that simply didn’t quite fit in to the understood definition of any particular genre at the time.

Bronte very skillfully actually fucks around with genres here - she utilizes the basic trappings of romance in some ways, discards them in others. There are Gothic tones but also a rejection of traditional Gothic novel underpinnings. 

The book is, at its heart, a story about how an obsessive love affair between two damaged people not only destroys them but anyone they touch and their families in general for more than a generation. 

The book isn’t comfortable as romance because it’s intended to cause discomfort, to unsettle in the way a perfectly written bit of horror can do even without a death or even a drop of blood.

Central to Heathcliff is the continued theme of love turned sour or revoked or made conditional.

His love of Catherine - a love that is so absolute, and so ruinous to him, that he ends up marrying a woman he more or less loathes out of sheer spite - never flags or fails. His childhood love from family - an adopted orphan of a high-class, wealthy man who treats him as his favorite son but doesn’t notice the intense abuse Heathcliff is subjected to by his adoptive brother - also is deeply formative in creating in Heathcliff a man desperate for and repeatedly denied unconditional love.

Heathcliff, raised with familial love from his father, is denied that love upon his father’s death. His own brother forces him into the role of a household servant simply to maintain control over him, thinking that Heathcliff has no other options.

Heathcliff adores Catherine but cannot have her. He makes himself into a wealthy man, he flirts with the sister of his rival and eventually marries her simply out of a need to get revenge - both on his brother’s memory and on Catherine, who rejected him and continues to despite being in love with him. He makes his brother sell him the family estate to pay off debts, putting himself in the position of offering conditional, abusive support that his brother once wielded against him.  

He abuses his own child, and forces Catherine’s daughter to marry his son and abuses her as well, effectively punishing his son and daughter-in-law for Catherine’s actions, and to some extent for his own. He keeps his brother’s son purposefully uneducated and treated poorly, acting out against his nephew the rage he can no longer wield against his brother. 

Heathcliff is not some looming villain - Catherine rejects him because of his low status despite being obsessively in love with him herself. She purposefully marries a sweet, if somewhat... malleable... man who is Heathcliff’s hated rival, and then manipulates them both, pits them against each other, mistreats them, and is more or less made a monster out of her need to keep them both adoring of her without having to sacrifice a single thing herself. 

AND AND AND

Let’s not forget that neither Heathcliff nor Catherine starts as villainous or ruinous. Both of them start out as people with the flaws that will become their undoing, but who are not controlled by them. Heathcliff’s temper is present, to be sure, and his resentment of the class stratifications that keep him from being treated as an equal - but it only begins to undo him after he and Catherine fall in love. Catherine is perhaps prone to some vanity and being able to read and react to the emotions of others - but she’s not an emotional manipulator who toys with others to soothe her own shattered psyche until after she falls for Heathcliff and then rejects the idea of a life with him. 

I wouldn’t say they were good people - just that they were not the monsters they become, with time, after finding one another.

One of the key themes of horror is something considered harmless or even good being turned into something evil, harmful, or fatal. In this... it’s love.

Which is why it often gets misconstrued as a romance. People see that they loved one another but we don’t teach that this love was not a benign or benevolent force in their lives. It was malignant, a cancer that spread from their linked hands to the lives of their children and even beyond the grave. 

Heathcliff and Catherine love each other, to be sure, from young ages - but they use that love not just as weapons against one another but to slowly ruin and destroy anyone who touches them, anyone who comes close.

Bronte’s message here isn’t true love conquers all, even death. Not in the slightest. Bronte’s message is there is love out there that can and will ruin you. Love can make you a monster that will ruin everything else, too. 

In the end, they roam the moors together, but is that true love lasting even after death, or is the torment of how they have harmed each other, and everyone around them, creating such a lasting impression that their souls still cannot rest?

Wuthering Heights is a horror novel, and if it was treated and taught that way, a whole lot more people would realize how fucking amazing it is.

P.S. also there’s a whole thing about Catherine and Heathcliff as children and the souring of a pseudo-sibling relationship that becomes incredibly creepy obsessive love but I do not have the energy to get into THAT part just now.

#wuthering heights #I'm sorry #these things happen sometimes #I black out and here we are with lit takes

[officerjennie]

Grief

CW: MCD, alcohol abuse, mentions of wanting to commit suicide, canon typical injuries. Ship: Lambden. WC: 7.4k+

Brief Summary: Aiden dies and Lambert suffers for it.

Denial

It wasn’t until the next summer that Lambert knew what had become of him.

Spring had always been their time of the year. At the end of winter, before the snow had even properly cleared from the path, Lambert was the first to leave Kaer Morhen behind. The trek was treacherous, slick with melting ice that would freeze over during the nights, proper footing hard to find and starving creatures more than willing to test their fading strength against anything that moved in a desperate attempt to keep living. Lambert’s blade was stained with blood by the time he made it to the first town on his path - the first one that accepted witcher patrons at their inn, at the very least - and it took him a good hour to properly sharpen and clean it in the flickering candlelight of his room.

That spring, there was a pit in his stomach that grew with each step he took. Nerves, thoughts he didn’t want to think, things he didn’t want to have bogging down his already fucked life. For the first time in a long while he didn’t envy Geralt and Eskel’s affinity with animals, preferring the slow trek as he headed to the coast, towards a small fishing village that saw his face near the beginning of each and every year.

With each step, that pit grew and hardened, his hand shaking as it gripped the sword at his back. Lambert paused several different times, taking detours, taking missions he didn’t need to take and spending an extra night in a brothel despite how little interest he really had in the woman he’d chosen to spend time with - all to waste time, to keep the coast from coming into view over the hills that surrounded it.

It still came into view. He stood on the same hill he did every single spring, smelling the damned dandelions and clovers that covered it, salt carried on the wind to greet him along with the sound of gentle water on sand. With a deep breath he took it all in but it did nothing for the shake of his hands, did nothing to make it any easier to take that next step forward.

The people all knew him, or at least knew of him. Children still stared at him like he might toss them to a harpy if given a chance but he was fine with it, fine with that, kept them out of his way and out of the danger that haunted a witcher’s footsteps. But the people knew him and knew he wasn’t there to cause more trouble than necessary, for the most part leaving him be as he walked the rather quiet streets towards the noise and bustle of the early morning fish market.

Crowds weren’t his thing, but Aiden loved them. He’d asked him once why he loved this little village so damned much, Lambert himself seeing it as nothing more than the next, and had been surprised when he got an honest and rather vulnerable answer.

“Reminds me of home,” the cat witcher had said, no faux humor to tint his wistful tone, his eyes on the fisherman that shouted and tossed their catch from their carts. It had reminded Lambert of nothing but the reek of fish guts, his face turning as much as his stomach, and yet…

And yet, here he was, making his way past the bustle of the fisherman once more. Their early catch was tossed here and there, the reek of dead and still dying fish heavy on the air, his nose and tongue both regretting every step that he took down the slick streets. Some of the men knew him and nodded his way though it was no friendly greeting, just a greeting, just something to acknowledge that he was there and existed. He did not nod back.

It was the outskirts of town where he was headed, down to the little beach just passed where all of the fishermen docked their fishing boats and hung their nets for the little ones to fix up. They were already busy at work, their little fingers no doubt pruning up as they stitched any holes that might have been made in the netting, some far too short to work on the whole netting, their hands showing the speed of familiarity with the tasks. Lambert watched as he walked past, as he always did, a little mesmerized with the simplicity of the hard work that civilians took part in.

A life he would never know. He readjusted his sword on his back, its weight a constant in his life, feeling the sand move beneath him as he made his way to their little beach.

The same rock as always stood waiting for him, just outside of the reach of the high tide. He didn’t climb up on it - that was Aiden’s spot when he got their first, as he did so many of the years. The cat witcher would sit cross-legged on the rock, not caring that it was damp, his daggers still strapped to his hip save one which he would use to peel an orange as he waited. The oranges were never ripe this time of year but he always managed to have one, a mischievous glint to his eye as he fed himself the fruit on the sharp blade, his dark brown eyes sharp as they caught sight of the wolf.

“About time, little Lamb,” he’d always say, just to get a rise out of the younger man. His braids would sometimes be disheveled by the ocean breeze, the scars on his face stretching from his grin, fangs showing and almost shining in the sunlight.

Aiden always looked like he belonged here. Lambert never did. He leaned against the rock, arms crossed as he stared up at the sky, taking the time to watch the clouds roll over head as he waited for him to show up.

By late evening, Lambert knew it would not be that day. His nausea had not left him. If Aiden had been there, he would have weaseled them a place to stay with one of the fishermen’s families, always able to get his way, always able to convince anyone of anything - but Aiden was not there, and Lambert had no real liking for people.

He camped out in one of the trees nearby, not bothered with a fire despite the chill in the wind, hardly able to sleep with his hands and legs refusing to stay still.

The next day, he had to hunt for food, refusing to touch the fish that already invaded every one of his senses. It was the work of but a few minutes to find enough small game to tide him over, Lambert building a small fire just at the edge of the beach to cook it over, keeping an eye on the rock while he slowly turned a few skinned rabbits over the flames - rabbits he barely touched despite how he knew he needed the food.

By the end of the week, he had grown restless out of boredom, having to travel to the next town over to find some sort of contract to keep his hands busy. Hunting down a troll by himself wasn’t always the wisest decision but it ended up being a younger one, inexperienced, felled easily enough and filled his coin purse enough for a few pints and a warm, soft woman to keep his bed company for the night.

Spring was heavy in the region before Lambert finally gave up waiting, no hint of his kitty cat in sight, his nerves back in full force for another reason beyond their last conversation. His heart was a bit heavy as he left the fishing village and all of its occupants behind, heading down further south, wondering if he’d run into Aiden later that year or if he’d have to wait until the next spring before he saw him again.

It was a coincidence, he told himself, that brought him to where they’d parted early the fall before. Not concern that brought him there, not concern that had made him hesitate either, the journey of naught but two weeks taking him all the way until mid-summer to greet the hills that he’d seen Aiden stroll down as he walked away from him, a forced tune on his lips as he’d twirled one of his daggers between his fingers - his anger showing.

“A witcher?”

The innkeep’s good eye pinned Lambert in place where he was leaned forward on the bar, Lambert’s fingers twitching, unable to stay still. As the man cleaned one of his mugs he seemed to chew the question over in his head, grey beard sticking to the condensation on the outside of the mug, the entire place around them mostly quiet and stinking of the seedy clientele that usually inhabited it.

And Lambert would know, given Aiden and him had been there not a year before. Had stayed here off and on for over a month, getting into fights whenever it pleased them, grinning as they were kicked out of the place at last, falling in a drunken stupor of laughter over each other as they carried themselves away to make camp in the woods nearby.

But as far as he could tell, this old man’s memory was nothing. He didn’t give any hint of remembering Lambert as he put his still dirty mugs away, turning to wipe the counter with the same rag, making Lambert grow impatient for his answer.

“We’ve had a few around these parts before,” the old man said at last, jerking his head to the side as he caught sight of a fly. He swatted it with the rag and continued to clean, not looking up at Lambert as he spoke to him. “Besides you, there were a couple last year. One stuck around longer than the other.”

“How long?” Not that the information would do him much good, but it was all he had to go off of - if the old fart remembered at all.

“A few days,” the man shrugged, continuing as if his words meant nothing, “the rest of his life, turns out.”

He stopped after that. Stopped as if that was the end of the story, wiping his counters like the smudges weren’t stains soaked into the wood that no one could ever clean - but that couldn’t be. Lambert shook his head, running a hand through his short hair - that couldn’t be the end of the story.

“Better finish talking if you want to keep your head, old man.” He growled it but it wasn’t anger that had his heart picking up its pace, and no matter how much he blinked Lambert couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

“Found the body by the swamp.” The words were distant despite the man’s closeness, but there was a ringing growing in his ears that made the world seem far away. “Didn’t have much use for a witcher’s body, or what was left of it. We don’t bury what’s not our own.”

The man spat, and Lambert found himself escorted out of town by sword point. He couldn’t recall how many of them he hurt on his way out, but he’d never forget the sound of that old man’s nose breaking under his knuckles.

Anger

‘By the swamp’. It was cold and wet, the air thick with the stench of rotting things. Lambert had waded in and out of the waters, some up to his waist, most not past his shins but every bit of it clinging to him and weighing him down. He was soaked through to the bone and shivering but he’d been shivering when he got there, his hands shaking and no amount of clenching his fists able to stop it.

It wasn’t very good direction to go off of, ‘by the swamp’. He could have been searching for hours and hours (and he would have been, there would have been no stopping him from tearing every inch of the swamp apart to prove the old man wrong, this wasn’t the end) but eventually part of his mind caught up with him.

Aiden had been about to hunt something. A troll, maybe, or maybe it had been a chimera - fuck, Lambert stopped to lean against a tree and think, stepping up onto its protruding roots to get out of the cold water for a moment.

He’d been hunting something. Lambert held his face in one hand and breathed, telling the rest of his thoughts to quiet themselves so he could focus on where his friend had been going - because Aiden had told him, he was certain of it, exactly where this beast had been.

It took longer than a moment, but he remembered, and hopped off the roots to once again wade further into the swamp.

The southern border was where the beast had been hunting and picking off civilians. It wasn’t a contract that had brought Aiden there but a necessity for some potion or another; Aiden had loved dabbling in that sort of thing, crafting his own concoctions that the sight alone of made Lambert’s stomach turn.

Lambert could stomach a lot of things, but actual poison was a bit beyond his limit. And there was no doubt in his mind that some of the shit his friend had thrown together was going to kill him some day.

Would have- no. Lambert took a deep breath through his nose but it did nothing for the rolling of his stomach, his thoughts turning to nothing but a dark cloud as he waded through the afternoon into the evening.

Eventually, he found his way through the swamp. All the way through, his feet now mostly on solid ground, the area covered in the stale scent of a troll - a troll that was no longer here, as evidenced by the bones he eventually found, the corpse long since rotted away to nothing. Didn’t mean the smell was gone. It made his nose twitch but he’d smelled worse, seen a lot worse too, but he kicked some of the bones for good measure just to hear them snap.

They weren’t right by the water’s edge. A good thirty meters away, give or take; Lambert looked around but saw little evidence of a fight here, no matter that time would have eroded most of it away. Still, some destruction told the stumbling path of a dying troll and he followed it, not sure what good it would do but having to know. 

It hadn’t made it far. Though its body was gone Lambert could guess, if his friend had indeed faced the troll, that it was poison that did it in. That was if…

No. This wasn’t the end. He shoved over a leaning tree that had been nearly cracked in half before, hitting it hard enough for it to finally snap and crash down into the swamp, taking down branches of surrounding trees as it went and disturbing the wildlife around him.

Maybe he was more violent than he thought. His fist clenched and unclenched, wanting nothing more than to continue on with idiotic, needless destruction - but he put the need behind him, letting his hand rest at the hilt of his sword for now, the promise keeping his nerves calm as he stepped over some weather dampened debris.

It took the rest of the evening to find him.

No body was left for him to find. The clothes were barely there, barely recognizable in their torn and shredded state. Scavengers had picked the body clean and barely left any bones, and most of what was left of him - of what had been him - had sunken into the mud and earth.

Lambert knelt next to the place where someone had died. Fingers trembled as he reached out to touch what had once been a part of his armor - a shoulder pad, thick and sturdy, meant to take hits and oh, it had taken many over the decades. 

No weapons left. Lambert looked around, the swamp quiet save for the ringing that grew in volume, not even the wind registering as he noticed not a coin purse nor a sword nor even a single one of the many throwing knives that used to glint in the sun as Aiden threw them with deadly precision at his enemies. They’d glittered just like his feral grin, sharp and always hitting their mark just like his words, his dark eyes not even narrowing in his anger as he tore anyone apart who dared to think his cheerful grin or lighthearted demeanor an easy target. 

Nothing was left now. 

It didn’t mean it was him. Lambert swallowed and wiped at his blurring vision. A body looked like a body, like any of the rest, especially when it was so eroded and scavenged away. It could have been any fool in armor no matter that it might look like his armor: leather scraps strewn here and there, the same black buckles that strapped it onto his chest, a few pieces of the over abundance of belts that Lambert had made fun of him for over the years.

He leaned back on the balls of his feet, running a hand once again through his hair. There wasn’t even enough evidence to suggest it was a witcher, specifically. No potions nor smells left, time having taken that evidence with it, and without any of that it could have been anyone. Anyone could have died out here, slaughtered by a troll that they pissed off. It could have been anyone.

But something caught in the fading sunlight, something silver and shaped like a coin connected to a broken chain, and it was not just anyone who had faced the troll and died for it.

Lambert broke the rest of the troll’s bones, but it did nothing to clear his vision.

Bargaining

It was possible that time could have helped heal his wounds, but time had never been kind to him.

Lambert hid the medallion in one of his pockets, never letting it leave him but refusing to look at it. And over the years that’s where it stayed, weighing heavy in his hand whenever he felt the need to hold it, grip it, squeeze his hold on it until its dull edges bit into his palm and made him bleed. It didn’t matter how long had passed - years, he knew that much, but how many he could not recall. All the springs and winters bled into the next, the rest of the year meaningless, his only counter for it all being when he had to leave to meet his brothers, when he should leave to go to the coast…

The first time his feet took him to the coast, he almost broke the rock. Their rock. It broke his fist when he’d hit it and he left a sizable crack along its side, a crack that he touched with ginger fingers that had nothing to do with the pain shooting straight up his arm. Fingers that shook like his breaths and could not even hold sand, let alone grip onto the past that left him cold and alone.

Nothing he did would take it back. Bring it back.

He tried being alone. Avoiding everyone he could, not taking a single contract for over a year and a half, living off of nothing but the land and his own anger that fueled his hunts. Trolls stood no chance against him, every single one of them he sniffed out and slaughtered like the last, not caring that they were sentient beings and knew nothing of what caused his rage.

It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. He could feel his friend’s disappointment in him growing.

Lambert tried not being alone.

“You’ll be joining us, then?” Geralt’s bard had too loud of a voice for such an early morning, his hair curly and wild in a way that made Lambert regret his choices. His chattering on and on made his knuckles grow white where it gripped the table in front of him - but this would be good for him, would be good for the emptiness that took him some nights.

And the too much that filled his days.

Geralt rode Roach, as he always did, a little ways ahead of them as they marched down the path. For his part Jaskier trounced about the place, too much energy, too loud and too carefree and always too much. It wasn’t as if Lambert had never been in his presence before - before, he had known him. Had met him and thought the bard was just another cute face, even flirted once or twice just because he liked the lack of fear that flashed across most humans’ expressions when he dared to speak to them, but he’d known long before Geralt and Jaskier had become a thing that his brother wanted him.

So Lambert had known Jaskier and his ways. Hadn’t minded his voice back then, how his laughter was quick and easy, how his words could be barbed and as sharp as throwing knives. How his hair curled just like undone braids that the air had caught and caused to go wild. Back then, he hadn’t minded.

Now he couldn’t make his thoughts stop. 

Months dragged on. Summer came and started to go, and the bard made his skin itch and his hands sweat. There were whole nights he couldn’t sleep so he forced Geralt to let him keep watch instead, knowing the looks his brother gave him but ignoring them all the same. Just as he ignored the whispering when Jaskier thought he was out of earshot.

“Is he alright? He’s been so quiet.” Lambert’s jaw tightened as he sharpened his weapons at the edge of their camp, the bard’s back turned to him, Geralt nudging his shoulder in lieu of a verbal response.

“When was the last time he slept?” It had been three nights but Lambert didn’t tell the lark that, continuing on climbing up in the tree to at least avoid their eyes, letting them think whatever they’d like.

“Geralt, I’m worried about him-”

“Leave it be, Jaskier.”

On and on, for weeks on end. Pitying eyes following his movements as if he was a child and didn’t notice them, the never ending humming in the mix, that bright laugh and wide grin making him want to rip his hair out. 

It was too much. And it was made all the worse when Geralt had to go track down some beast on his own, leaving Lambert there to protect his bard, not able to escape his chatter or worrying looks. 

“I’ve really enjoyed you traveling with us this year.” Jaskier plopped down on the same rotting log as him, not caring that it would stain his expensive clothes, a genuine smile on his lips that made Lambert want to snarl at him. “Not that I don’t adore traveling with Geralt alone - he might be a right arse when he wants to be, difficult to talk to at times, comes back reeking of monster guts and certainly doesn’t enjoy the finer things in life, and...hmm, where was I going with this?”

“Away from here, I hope.”

“Oh, right, yes!” Jaskier snapped his fingers, ignoring Lambert’s sharp comment and leaning towards him, the glint in his eyes making him nauseous. “It’s just nice to have someone else around for a while. Especially someone who gets him in ways I can’t, you know? I adore him, I really do, but it doesn’t matter how much I tell him that if he won’t let me in. With you, well...he trusts you. Trusts you to not hate or judge him, or shrink away when he comes back all hyped up on potions. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell him I won’t, there’s always a...hesitance, in the way he approaches me.

“It’s just...nice to see him relax, and not worry about those sorts of things.”

Lambert didn’t know why he was being told all of this. Didn’t care, just wanted the bard to leave him alone. He stared at him until he stopped talking, watching the way the lark sighed wistfully, catching the longing in his gaze as he stared off in the direction Geralt had trudged away into an hour before.

What had he done to deserve this?

“I think it’s good for you, too, Lamb.”

Lambert went ridged, body tensed and fingers suddenly clawing into the log beneath them. ‘Little Lamb’, his memories purred at him, sharp teeth glistening at the end of a laugh - and he hated it, hated everything about this damn bard, his carefree nature hiding his sharp tongue and the damn tunes he never stopped humming and the knife he carried at his hip-

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he spat, and he didn’t stick around to hear anymore, his eyes wild and his heart racing with the rush of memories trying to over take him. Some part of him heard Jaskier’s surprise but he couldn’t process his words, jerking away from their log, leaving in a rush and breaking out into a sprint the moment he was out of sight.

He didn’t know how long he ran. His lungs were burning, his cheeks raw from branches clawing at him in his haste, burned by the tears he didn’t want to admit were spilling down his face. But eventually Lambert had to stop, doubling over as it all finally took over, leaving him sobbing and screaming in anger at the memories - because that’s all they would ever be now. The past, trapped in his mind, poisoning him from within.

Lambert was too far away to hear the chort that found their camp. Even if he had heard it he would not have reached Jaskier in time to protect him, the bard’s screaming reaching no one, luck being the only thing that saved him from death that night. But his injuries were great and he would never walk without a limp again - and the grave, betrayed look in Geralt’s eyes when Lambert at last returned to them told the truth they all knew:

It was his fault.

Depression

No amount of gull would drown out the truth, but Lambert tried his best despite that. Inn after inn, tavern after tavern, spending coin he didn’t own himself to make his thoughts stop and his chest from caving in on itself. Sticky fingers he’d learned from one of the many he refused to think of, swiping coin purses and hating the stir in his gut at the knowledge that the very man who taught him this would be disappointed in him for using it.

‘Thought better of you, little Lamb.’ He heard the words as he drank himself into a stupor in a dark corner of some shady inn, not even aware of what town he was in anymore; they all bled into the rest, faces meaningless and lost to him, all the continent the same without a person to meet up with and make it mean something.

He’d betrayed his own brother’s trust. Lambert laid his head on the table, not caring about the grim and spilled drink there, his own half-empty glass tipping and leaving the short hairs on his head wet with drink.

All he’d been charged with was watching the bard, and he couldn’t even do that. Left him on his own when he’d known danger was in the area, and now he’d live the rest of his life with a pain no magic they’d found could fully take away from him. After he’d swore to stay there, protect him, he’d left him-

Lambert swayed on his feet when he jolted up, the walk from his table to the bar a blur. He didn’t bother walking back, half laying on the bar when his drink arrived, downing it and not even noticing most of it spilled down his front. 

Hadn’t even stuck around to face his foolish mistake. Didn’t even give Geralt the time to chew his ear off, had just. Left the both of them. Left them there and avoided the both of them like a bloody coward, only knowing the extent of his mistake a year later when he’d run into Eskel on the path.

Jaskier couldn’t make it up the mountain to winter with them, and Geralt had stayed behind with him - and Lambert had been too drunk in some tavern near the coast to realize winter had come and went.

The drinks eventually stopped coming but he wasn’t aware enough to even realize it, his coin purse as empty as the five others he’d dumped the contents of onto the slick wood of bars across the country, his woes never going quiet but the pain being dulled like his senses.

His fault. His head swam even against the cold grain of the wood his cheek was pressed against, even with his eyes shut tight. ‘Such a loyal wolf,’ his memory supplied, a hand soft on his chest, calloused fingers tracing the scars there. ‘Why’d you take that for me, hmm?’

Lambert sniffed, choking back the emotions that were supposed to be deafened and dulled by the gull that filled his stomach so full it hurt, raising his head just enough to hold it up with his hand.

“It’s who I am,” he gruffed out to no one - but it was a lie. It’s who he was, once, loyal to a fault, loyal to the point of self detriment.

Who was he now? 

Acceptance

Aiden was dead.

Lambert knew this, accepted it, hated himself for it. There was nothing he could do to change that and he found himself too much of a coward to join him, though he wished to, desperately wanted to as the inn beds stayed cold at his side.

He traveled alone, save for the scattered moments where he ran into Eskel and allowed the other wolf to join him. Though the memories flooded him at times their contents became hazy. Hearing a tune that was almost familiar could still bring him to his knees but he forgot what Aiden’s voice sounded like, the exact shade of brown his eyes and hair were, what his last words to him were. And when he lost the cat medallion that he’d hidden in one of his pockets he almost didn’t have it in him to feel the grief anymore, hands shaking as he searched and searched to no avail, breaths quickening but the tears refusing to come.

Slowly, the memories left him. No longer plagued him and that was a poison of its own, forgetting. But some things never left him alone.

He’d become a liar. A thief. A betrayer. Geralt never trusted him again, not to the extent he used to, and Lambert accepted that because there was nothing else he could do - he had betrayed him and doubted himself for it, knowing it was possible he would do it again. 

It was easier to avoid them all. Live life out on his own, hardly heading home for the winter, sending brief letters instead that bore no further information than him being alive and mostly unharmed. And that was how Lambert lived for a long, long time: on the path, alone, stealing coin whenever he felt the need to, lying his way through the continent and holding no one close to him.

Vesemir had long passed, gone one winter when he fought a leshen that was too quick for him. Geralt went not long after his bard, heart broken and unable to go on, leaving two wolves left and one that refused to return to the keep. Eskel took over the care of Kaer Morhen and was the only one there to read Lambert’s brief letters, but eventually he, too, was taken by time, Lambert’s letters being delivered to an empty keep that caved in from the unkept snow on the rooftop.

He knew he was alone, but sent them anyway, his only connection to who he used to be, the life he once had. And one spring even found him following that familiar path to the coast, the fishing village a ghost town of crumbling houses and the forest taking it over - but his rock, their rock, was still there, jutting out onto the beach.

As he smoothed his hand on their rock, he thought about his friend. The one he’d loved and never confessed his feelings for, the one whose laugh and smile he couldn’t remember. The one who he knew had a quicksilver tongue but for the life of him he couldn’t remember anything he’d said, who’d been irresistible and insatiable yet Lambert could not remember any specifics of their times laying together.

He remembered him like a vague notion of a feeling he’d once had, and his heart and chest ached for the absence - because he could not remember him. But what did it matter, in the end, when Aiden would never recognize who he’d become.

Mistakes

In the quiet of their shared inn room, the dust thick in the air, sunlight barely peeking through the windows at that early hour, Lambert found it...difficult to pretend anymore.

They lay naked together, the blanket just barely resting above Aiden’s hips, the bruises and teeth marks Lambert had covered him in the night before already faded and gone. Lambert was always the early riser between the two of them; Aiden could sleep the whole afternoon away if allowed, his eyes fluttering as he dreamed, dark lashes touching dark brown skin as his breaths ghosted across Lambert’s chest.

It made Lambert’s heart ache. One of the summers of his youth Vesemir had taken him aside, Lambert’s cheeks stained with hot and angry tears, his tiny fists at his side as Vesemir tried to calm him down.

“You feel so much, little pup,” the old wolf had told him, rough hand on the top of his head to keep him grounded in place.

And he was right, damn him. Lambert felt too much, and it ached, and he wished he could swallow it all down and forget and feel nothing like the humans said.

He had nowhere to keep his hands but on Aiden’s body, holding him as he waited for his friend to wake, aware of every inch of their bodies as the seconds passed like minutes.

It was sex. Nothing more. And that was fine.

Except apparently it wasn’t.

Aiden slept in too long and had to be forcefully pried away from Lambert’s body, the cat witcher whining that he was warm while Lambert griped and bitched that they had shit to do. Once that mischievous glint in Aiden’s eyes returned and he remarked that Lambert was near the top of his to-do list, Lambert unceremoniously dumped him right on the floor, leaving his friend cackling in his wake as he hurriedly got ready and stormed out of their room.

A morning like any other. Bar fight got them kicked out of the inn with the threat to never step foot in there again, Lambert’s cheek barely stinging from the pitiful punch the drunken bastard had managed to land on him - only because Aiden had purposely distracted him just for a laugh, which they both shared as they left town, hanging off each other like they were the ones too drunk to hold themselves up.

Their friendship was why Lambert refused to acknowledge anything more. Why it was enough, why he shoved any fluttering heartbeats out of his mind. He groped his friend’s rather sinful arse just to see Aiden’s teeth, his friend whipping around so fast the silver beads worked into his braids almost smacked him in the face. 

Aiden was on him a moment later. It was always an equal toss up how he would react: would he tackle Lambert and attempt to wrestle him to the ground, lethe body belying his strength, determined to ‘teach Lambert a lesson’ full of teeth and one very memorable evening including a knife that ended up carving a deep scar into his shin; or would he pin him against a tree, holding him there and not letting him move, teeth accompanied by a wicked tongue that could leave Lambert whimpering as easily as those skillful fingers that loved to dance across his skin.

Lambert loved both equally, and Aiden wouldn’t have let him keep his hand if he didn’t love it too.

“Still feeling frisky, little Lamb?”

Lambert scowled over at his friend as he readjusted his clothing, not bothering to tell him to shove it at the nickname - it had never worked before, and likely it would just give Aiden ideas. But he had been caught ogling, unable to help himself even after they’d frotted against each other right there on the path where anyone and their mother could have walked up on them. He was still hot just from the thought, his soiled smalls speaking just to how frisky he’d been feeling when Aiden had pinned him.

“Can’t waste the whole day away, kitty cat.” He risked patting Aiden’s arse one more time, ducking away from the knife swipe aimed right at his head, jogging ahead with a laugh, his chest lighter then than it had been in years.

This was enough. What he had, what they had between them. Traveling together as the path stretched onward, taking turns keeping watch as rain deafened the forest around their night campsite, picking up in the morning with a tune on Aiden’s lips that was sung in a tongue Lambert knew not a word of.

“I’d like to kiss you.”

Lambert cocked his head as he straightened back up from where he’d been rolling up his bedroll, finding for once Aiden’s eyes held no humor in them at the offer. He couldn’t name what he saw in them then, but it made his heart pick up in rhythm, made his tongue thick in his throat when he said, “then kiss me.”

But Aiden didn’t. Didn’t make a single move towards him, leaning back on his heels, dark eyes staring off to the side far away from him as he frowned.

“I want it to mean something.” Aiden licked his lips, a nervous tick, something sheepish in the way he tilted his head to mirror Lambert’s own expression. “More than what it usually does. I want…”

He was hesitating, not saying what Lambert both never wanted to hear and suddenly realized he’d wanted to hear for the longest damned time. It made his hands tremor, his throat suddenly feeling tight - but it was all too much so he clamped down on the feelings trying to override everything, shaking his head and turning away from his friend, refusing to look at him.

“Isn’t it enough?” It had to be, it was, he didn’t need to think and overthink everything they said, everything they did around each other. He didn’t need to know why his tongue got tied when he made Aiden laugh - that genuine, surprised laugh that he only managed to hear on very rare occasions - why he couldn’t keep his hands still when Aiden was sitting near him, why he felt so much it felt like he could drown if he let it all go.

He didn’t need that. It terrified him, the thought of drowning in his own feelings, and the last thing he needed was to drown in them right in front of his friend.

“You,” Aiden started, and Lambert didn’t dare to look up at him, “don’t want…”

“I want what we have.” His words were a bit rushed, his movements jerky as he shoved his bedroll into his pack, not bothering to roll it up neat and tidy like he usually did. “I like what we have. Isn’t that enough?”

“Right, yeah. Of course it is.”

He did look up then, and hated himself for it. Because he would never forget the pain he saw - in the way Aiden refused to look back at him, his head ducking down, the shake of the breath he took as he turned away from him.

Lambert swore to himself then and there that he’d think on it later. Not there, not then, but later, when he could sit by himself alone and let the feelings come as slowly as he could manage so they wouldn’t overtake him.

The rest of the morning was spent mostly in silence. It stretched between them like a fresh wound, sharp and throbbing at the edges, making Lambert grind his teeth and wish his friend had said nothing at all. As unfair as it was to blame him - and he wasn’t blaming him, it wasn’t his fault Lambert was so damned skittish about his own feelings and couldn’t hold them back for the life of him - he couldn’t help but wish the morning hadn’t happened at all.

By afternoon, they’d reached the town over, Aiden heading quickly off to see if there were any contracts and Lambert for once not at all eager to follow him. He piddled about here and there, not even feeling like pissing off some bastard for an excuse to punch someone’s teeth in, ending up taking too long staring at armor sets at the local blacksmiths that he really had no interest in buying.

Without having said a word to each other, they both met at the local tavern that afternoon, arriving in the same half hour and sitting further in the corner than they usually would. Gull was drunk in mostly quiet, a few words shared here and there, and Lambert’s heart ached at the tension between them.

“Found a decent one.” Aiden eyed the bottom of his empty glass, in the end pushing it away with a sigh. “There’s a troll not twenty miles from here. Shouldn’t be too difficult with the two of us.”

And Lambert would usually go right along with him. Any other day he would be at his side, traveling the path, hunting down trolls and clearing out drowners and fighting battles with the most fearsome of leshens.

But he was feeling too much, and it was all but a centimeter from the surface, threatening to spill over and never get cleaned back up. And Lambert wasn’t ready for that.

“I think I’ll actually head down south.” He said it slow, a little quiet, clearing his throat after as if he hadn’t meant for it to be a whisper. “Want to get some warmth in me and there sure as hell ain’t any around here. Think you can handle one measly troll on your own?”

Aiden wasn’t fooled, and his hurt wasn’t veiled, but Lambert would make it up to him. His friend still sent him a sharp grin as he waved over his shoulder, leaving the tavern and Lambert behind, and Lambert drank enough gull that night for the both of them.

He needed time. Lambert dropped his head on one hand when his vision swayed - or was that his body? It was hard to tell and the old shit of an innkeep wasn’t letting him order any more gull either, leaving Lambert to drag himself up to a room he hadn’t meant to rent to begin with.

Time. Just a little bit of time to himself, to think on it, think it all over and figure out how the fuck to feel so much without- without, fuck, he didn’t even know anymore. The world was swimming around him and the bed was so alluring he didn’t even take off his armor or weapons before dropping heavy on it, laying across it the wrong way on top of the blanket while his head tried its best to stop spinning.

At least there was that for him. Time. He took a deep breath and let everything settle: his head, the way his body felt like it was swaying while still laying down, his thoughts, the bursting feeling in his chest.

All he needed was a little time, and he’d make it up to Aiden. Sit him down and tell him things and maybe even let himself feel, and they could maybe, maybe, talk about the possibilities of more. Aiden had a quick and dangerous temper but they were closer to each other than anyone else in either of their worlds, so there was...a chance, and it was one Lambert would take - later.

Time was all he needed, and he had that. They both had plenty of that ahead of them.

#lambden #lambert #aiden #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #the cry off challenge #lambert/aiden #aiden/lambert #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert

[soranis-sunshadow]

Why it’s not ok to compare Wrong Hordak to his defective brother.

It doesn’t sit right to me when someone pits two abuse victims against each other based on their coping mechanisms because their circumstances are never the same.

Wrong Hordak was immediately adopted by people who slowly de-indoctrinated him and offered him a supportive environment for all of that growth and healing to happen. When the BF squad kidnapped him, he was ardent about his service to Prime and he only followed them because they deceived him in believing they were servants of Prime.

By providing clear irrefutable evidence of Prime’s fallibility, deceit and the squad’s moral support throughout this moral crisis, they were able to wean him off of his programmed behavior and offer him a new onlook and an informed choice.

Hordak was a defective clone that was sent to die on the battlefield, in essence he was abandoned by his maker for being worthless and deflective. This is why his own disability is such a source of crippling shame and self-loathing, it made him unlovable in Prime’s eye, the person he was literally programmed to worship, love and blindly obey.

For all intents and purposes, Prime is the horde clones’ God. He appears to be all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent and he is their literal creator. Through doctrine, clones are taught that all creatures are beneath Prime, only His light and His love is relevant. (Prime is that much of a narcissistic monster)

 Even while stranded on an alien planet, cut off from his Maker, it makes sense for him to prove his worth through the only means that he was ever taught (worship and conquest), perhaps, that way, he may repent for his failure of being created defective.

It makes sense for him, a brainwashed cultist, alone and stranded on a strange and hostile world to try and bring it into Prime’s light. He didn’t know that he could have been free of Prime if he chose to integrate with the natives. Every time he detected Light Hopes’s portals on the surface of the planet, he went to investigate, hoping Prime had come for him. That is how he found Adora after all.

Of course Hordak was brutal, brutality was all he had ever been shown. Of course he conquered in Prime’s name, that is why he was created. Of course he condoned the training of children to become soldiers once they reach maturity, that is how he was made after all, he didn’t know any better.

It's important to note that before Entrapta, Hordak is essentially a recluse. He hides away in his laboratory and he doesn’t directly interact with most of his underlings who avoid him. In many of his appearances he clings to the shadows or is only shown on a monitor. 

Instead of proving his worth to Prime, he seemingly fails at all of the (impossible) tasks he had set himself to accomplish in gaining his God’s favor: He doesn’t conquer the planet (it’s a whole damn planet), he can’t treat his defect (it’s gotten to the point that he’s an emaciated sickly wreck dealing with crippling chronic pain and is immobile without his prosthetic armor), his attempts at making a new body for himself have failed (he is defective, any clone made from his genetic code would also be defective) and he can’t even open a portal to go home (the planet’s magic does not allow an exit from the different dimension it is in). After decades of failure after failure, that he blames himself for, he has grown bitter and hopeless.

That is why Entrapta and her message is so important to him. She teaches Hordak that he has inherent worth as an individual. His imperfections do not mark him as something lesser, to be discarded, to her, he can be beautiful just the way he is. This is when he starts considering  to stall the portal project, a project that has been his purpose for years, and considers staying on Etheria with her. "There was even a time you wished I would not come for you." - Prime

When he is told by Catra that Entrapta "betrayed” him, he doesn’t want to believe it at first but his own self-loathing plays a huge part in why he buys the lie. He is after all a defective and worthless failure. Catra’s lie is so much more plausible than anyone ever finding worth in him. As such he comes to reason that another person he has dared to get attached to has abandoned him.

Whereas Catra believes that everyone leaves her, when really she pushes them away, Hordak genuinely has had everyone important in his life "leave" him, as far as he knows. This is why we see Hordak in his most evil during season 4 when he has the arm cannon and he is sacking Salineas. He's completely fueled by insecurity and loss, he has something to prove again, to Entrapta and to Prime. He was eager to face her and show her, on the battlefield, that he can be worth something (affection).

When Double Trouble reveals that Entrapta was sent to Beast Island, Hordak believed she is likely dead after so long. He thinks his gullibility has cost Entrapta her life, another failure to add to the long list of sins.

When he is teleported on Prime’s ship, he is terrified of him. He tries to appease Prime in whatever way possible. His body language, his meek, scared tone of voice, and the terrified expression on his face coupled with the fact that he is literally shaking in fear convey the fact that Hordak himself knows he will not be shown mercy. In order to adapt to Etheria and further his goals, he had committed unforgivable blasphemy, he had taken a name and shown initiative. Prime violates his mind and erases him.

It comes as no surprise that once his memories of Etheria resurface because of Catra’s presence, memories of abject failure, of loneliness, of grief and of betrayal, he submits himself to erasure once again. (in season 4 he had actually let Catra in, he trusted her, they had started a tenuous friendship that weirdly enough went both ways. She too was glad to see a “friendly face”)

Once he finds the crystal Entrapta gave him, he starts remembering her. Her memory is so dear to him that he actively tries to hold on to whatever fragments of her he can hold on. He even hides this from Prime (his only lie in the whole show).

In the final confrontation, while still linked to the hive mind and in the presence of his god, he chooses Entrapta, not because Prime was proven to be wrong or evil or fallible but because Entrapta found worth in Hordak despite his imperfections. He goes against his creator still believing that Prime is all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent because he cared for Entrapta that much.

This is why Hordak's defiance against Horde Prime has so much impact, at least for me personally. Hordak is a character who never really got a choice up to this point. Arguably, it was less a decision and more of a last resort to protect Entrapta in whatever way he could. And even this choice was a zero sum equation. He either killed the one person that has ever shown him unconditional kindness or he turned against his God. It was a loss either way. The inescapability of Prime and the magnitude of his control over his clones is underlined by his possession of Hordak after he had declared his individuality and tried to kill him. In the deleted extended scene, Hordak himself is horrified at the fact that he had shot his Brother. His conditioning and indoctrination is still there. He never learned that Prime is a narcissistic monster and that he used his little brothers as chattel and had been consistently lied to.  He just wanted not to hurt Entrapta, this one choice is his first step towards individuality and freedom. This is the first time he actually exerts his own will and not Prime’s. He’s even making this obvious by saying "I am Hordak." I am someone, I exist.

I think Hordak is actually one of the best written characters in the show, and not because he's a sympathetic villain, but because he is very realistic to how a lot of children that experience neglect or other forms of parental abuse behave as they grow up. They only know anger and rage, never being shown love because they hide themselves in the shadows. Only when someone breaks down those walls can that person begin to heal.

Hordak and Wrong Hordak may be identical clones but their circumstances are anything but and it is wrong to pit them against each other. They are both victims of severe abuse. The comparison is not a fair one since one of them had all the means necessary to break conditioning while the other had all the circumstances necessary to enforce it. Despite what Hordak has done, he deserves to live and he deserves a chance to rebuild what he has destroyed in Prime’s name. Some of his victims may never forgive him, that is their choice. Nobody should have to forgive him. That is not how forgiveness works.  Etheria’s justice system is focused on rehabilitation, not on punitive vengeance.  Hordak too deserves a chance to heal after all that has been inflicted on him from the moment he was created. He deserves a chance at redemption.

I am open to more discussions on the subject if anyone is willing.

#hordak #wrong hordak #entrapta #horde prime #spop discourse #spop #she ra princess of power #we can only grow as much as our circumstances allow us #being away from church on a sunday doesn't make you an atheist #please contradict me if you can #but do so with logical arguments and not headcanons on theoretical genocide

[sophiamcdougall]

EXPLAINING SANREMO

(PART 1) Last week I was swept away, helpless, by the avalanche that is the Sanremo Song Festival and I am still recovering. For your safety, I’ve tried to keep the insanity contained on my Italian side blog. But I want to try to offer you a rough summary of what I’ve learned. Sanremo inspired the Eurovision Song Contest. Over five nights, 24 acts, each with a brand new song, compete at the Ariston theatre in Sanremo for a tacky little golden lion, and the glory of being the year’s Song for Italy. 2020 marked the 70th Sanremo, so depending on who you ask, it’s a venerable national treasure or it’s stale and embarrassing (Many Italians are sick of it. Or say they are, but see below.) It is also an EPIC STRUGGLE between THE FORCES OF GOOD AND EVIL FOR THE SOUL OF HUMANITY Let’s meet some of the protagonists: 

AKA: host Amadeus, entertainer and comedian Rosario Fiorello, il Bel Paese, and competitor Achille Lauro.

Amadeus got things off to a bad start before the show even began by praising his various female co-hosts - all seasoned TV professionals - for their beauty and their ability to stay “a step behind a man.” Outrage ensues, Amadeus claims he did not mean it like that, but keep this in mind for later. Also competing are Morgan (below, left) and Bugo (below, right.), who are performing a duet.

Going in, the one thing I know about Morgan is that on more than one occasion, he trashtalked my beloved and blameless Fabrizio Moro. So I hate him and want him to suffer. And apparently he has quite the reputation for throwing tantrums, picking on fellow-artists and sabotaging events he’s part of. But hey. He’s supposedly talented and Bugo clearly thinks he deserves another chance.  And we’re off!

Irene Grandi kicks things off with  “Finalmente Io” (“Finally Me”). But I’m starting with her not so much because she’s the first to sing as because I don’t think the song’s  got enough attention -- either for the fact that it bangs or for what it represents in the drama that’s about to unfold.

Finalmente Io is what, in the business, we call foreshadowing.

There’s a magical thing that happens to women with when they turn 40. The  develop Not-Giving-A-Fuck superpowers. The song is basically about that. It’s about freedom, and self-acceptance, and being 100% done with male bullshit. (It's also a bit of an ADHD anthem but let’s leave that aside for now.)  “I’ve lost all my patience, and all my fragility,” she sings. 

And, “If you want sex, let’s do it now. Heeeeeeere.”

Irene is the portent everyone misses, a harbinger of what is to come. 

Think of her as John the Baptist.  Onwards. So the first thing one discovers about the Sanremo Festival is that just because we have to get through 24 “big” acts AND 6 (?) new/junior artists, and they all have to perform multiple times, that doesn’t mean there’s any RUSH. Guest singers wander on and perform a song or ten. There’s comedy. We can stop everything to talk about football.  A lady comes on and talks for a million years about how her granny taught her that True Beauty is Found Within. There are also speeches about important subjects like violence against women. In fact, we are going to talk about that a lot, but also a bunch of competent and experienced female TV personalities are stuck taking turns at playing Amadeus’s Glamorous Assistant of the evening and he can’t shut up about how beautiful they all are while they cringe and lean subtly away from him. So it’s ... slow, and awkward, but within its own cheesy terms, things are normal. Too normal. Enter Achille Lauro. 

Softly, almost whispering, he begins to sing a song called  “Me ne frego”  (”I don’t care” - but with an edge of “fuck you”). This is both an everyday Italian expression and a fascist motto. Well, it was till now. 

A nation is convulsed. Right-wing Italian boomers are screaming because YOU! CAN’T! DO! THAT! AT! SANREMO! THERE! ARE! CHILDREN! WATCHING! Italian Tumblr, which like the rest of Tumblr is feral, thirsty and gay, is screaming for different reasons entirely. 

Achille, you scandalous creature, what have you done? What have you got to say for yourself?

Something strange and magical  has released and it cannot be contained. On with the songs. Good songs, bad songs, blah songs. I like “Tikibombom” by Levante - a love letter to weirdos and rebels, “Rosso di Rabbia” (Rage Red) by Anastasio about being, well, angry but scared you can’t do anything useful with it, and “Eden” by  Rancore, about... the nature of sin?? touching on everything from September 11 to the mafia to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.   However, this contest is being judged (mostly - it’s complicated) by an industry jury of FOOLS, COWARDS, and TRAITORS who KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO, so virtually all of the above artists are so far languishing towards the bottom of the provisional rankings. Achille ends up in 17th place and  Rancore at 22.

Truly, the light hath shone in the darkness and the darkness knoweth it not.

LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO RANCORE. 

Rapper down, repeat RAPPER DOWN. SEND HELP.

However, for people who went in implacably biased against Morgan, it’s not all bad news. "Sincero” (Sincere) by Morgan and Bugo is in last place. Whether this is anything to do with the song or because Morgan is a nightmare of a person who has systematically alienated everyone in the Italian music industry except the trusting Bugo ... we can but ponder.  Sanremo grinds on. Days blur into each other and I’m not even going to try to cover events in exact order. Sanremo knows no order. Sanremo is like the universe, linear time is a construct that doesn’t really exist, and chaos happens very, very slowly.  But meanwhile, somewhere on the astral plane:

At least that is what I deduce must have happened.

The competitors and guests look deep within themselves. Do they have what it takes? Are they ready to answer the call? 

Let’s see! It’s Covers Night! Which is also Duets Night!

That’s Elettra Lamborghini (yes, that Lamborghini) and Myss Keta.

 Are they in tune? No. Does it matter? ALSO NO.

Meanwhile ... something strange is brewing between Amadeus and Fiorello...

 But wait, PLOT TWIST.

Enter Roberto Benigni.

The beloved actor and director is the latest avatar of the Dionysian frenzy that has chosen Sanremo 2020 for the place of its birth. He is the One who will unite the electric queer mayhem and the impossible grinding tedium  of Sanremo. In him, the two strains will fuse and become unstoppable. He is going to talk about sex for twenty-six minutes

He reads from the Song of Songs, which ... I knew it was sexy, and all, but is it really like that? Do you ever think about NAKED BODIES? Roberto does. Do you believe in PHYSICAL LOVE? Roberto wishes you would. Anyway, just think of all the sex we could all be having, literally right now, right heeeeere, whether we are  “a woman, and her man. Or a man and his man. Or a woman, and her woman!” He is awful. He is magnificent. He is excruciating. He is spellbinding. We are hanging on his every word and we are considering chewing our own arms off to escape. He proposes an orgy in the orchestra pit. 

Hand on heart, all of that happened. Italian Tumblr, bear witness.

And what of Achille Lauro? He unleashed this madness upon us all,  is he just going to sit back and let everyone else do all the work? Of course not. Achille Lauro came to bring not peace, but a sword, to the world of toxic masculinity and gender in general and his work is not yet done.

”I too was once a little girl,” Achille sings.

Dressed as Bowie-as-Ziggy, Achille duets with Annalisa on “Gli Uomini Non Cambiano” - “Men Don’t Change”. It’s a heartbreaking song by Mia Martini from 1992 about male abuse of women, and not a single word, or a single pronoun has been changed.

However, although he’s the one in the competition, and the one dressed to dazzle, he leaves Annalisa the spotlight. It’s like she’s the tortured protagonist of the song and he’s a voice in her head, a sympathetic spirit who can’t swoop in to rescue her but can quietly affirm that she deserves better than the the hellish treatment she’s singing about. in fact, he pointedly stays a step behind her at all times. And she’s majestic. 

Of course, he’s not fucking DONE

He’s still got to sing “Me Ne Frego” again. Can he top the cape-drop? You be the judge.

So Italian Tumblr,  is now writhing on the carpet,  making a sound only bats can hear, and shitposting itself into delirium, but has it all been ENOUGH?

NO.

Poor Rancore has died again. Toxic masculinity still exists. Amadeus is still pretty gross. Everyone is going to have to GAY HARDER. CAN THEY DO IT? This post is, like Sanremo itself, getting insanely long, so ... STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO, in which Fiorello’s true nature as a chaos being is revealed, Amadeus faces his Calvary, and the gun on the stage goes off.  ----- UPDATE: Part 2 is here

#Sanremo #Sanremo 2020 #Explaining Sanremo #Achille Lauro #Explaining Sanremo Part 1