#i like my trauma-rage bloody and awful

[the-everqueen]

for the AMA: what compels you most in a fictional character!

rage as a trauma response.

it compels me when a character spits in the face of god. when the response isn't "why did you let all this happen" but "how dare you let this happen." something about the assertion of agency in the wake of un-meaning. something about "there was never a Purpose, the point is what you make of it." this is undoubtedly because i was raised evangelical and continue to struggle with what i believe vs what i want to be true. pero also i think i was denied anger for so long (and even now my reflex when i'm hurt is to divert/repress/hide/sublimate anger) that it's cathartic for SOMEONE to get to be mad at the powers that be.

misogyny means it's usually (white) male characters who get these narrative arcs. this is evident in my blorbos: astarion from bg3, the corinthian from sandman, will graham from hannibal. (my immediate first thought was actually emilio sandoz from the sparrow, very literal autistic brain serving me well here lmao, what does it mean to be god's whore.) but my favorite female and genderqueer characters have this, too. saga anderson from alan wake 2 (LITERALLY tells both the in-game narrative force and the meta "fuck off, i'm done with other people writing my story"). essun from the broken earth trilogy (everyone who says they can't connect to her...i need you to examine yourself for misogynoir). vic from nos4a2. eurydice from hadestown. erica slaughter from something is killing the children. jade from my heart is a chainsaw.

(horror is obviously a huge medium for this...the final girl is a figure of righteous anger, the avenging angel, the woman who mows down the ultimate horror with a baseball bat or a butcher knife and she's right, she's in the right, she's the monster slayer, fuck you fear me.)

#ask games #AMA #crimeronan #this was SUCH a good ask thank you #also i'm not gonna write a whole essay here in the tags but i think part of why i adore horror #and why i have a hard time connecting to ''literary fiction'' women IS that allowance for rage #what a genre considers acceptable female rage sometimes feels So Hollow compared to what i might let myself feel irl #i like my trauma-rage bloody and awful #SOMEONE needs to pay in flesh #weirdly stephen king is really good at this when he lets himself do it? beverly from IT and arguably It from IT are peak #Women Should Do Crimes Actually #unfortunately most of the time Stephen King sucks at letting women be people #SO INSTEAD i recommend Stephen Graham Jones who just consistently does this #i ALSO don't think it's a coincidence that my favorite queer and women creators who write these arcs are also not white #nonwhite queer and female rage is Threatening To The Status Quo

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hi, your last post about reader not knowing that it was sa, I saw that and I wanted to request something. What if reader knows that she have been through it but she mentions this as a joke, she says it and just keep going like she said something silly. How would the boys (141 + konig) react?

(I do this sometimes and I don’t like it, but it feels like some kind of copying mechanism)

I’m sorry if this was too much, do not feel that u need to write this.

Anyway, thank u so much and take care

Honestly I make out of pocket jokes about my own trauma all the time, so I feel this

tw: mentions of trauma, brief mentions of sexual assault- nothing graphic or descriptive, humor as a coping mechanism, comfort

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Whiplashed so hard his neck is broken

“You bein’ serious?”

You explain what happened but you’re a little too blasé about it, he understands humor as a coping mechanism but this is a little serious

And by ‘a little’ I mean very

“Love, you can’t just drop a bomb like that.” He tries to soften his tone but his rage at what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through

He doesn’t realize he’s being a little hypocritical, we’ve all heard his “army humor” so he really doesn’t have a lot of room to talk. But the fact that it happened to you has blinded him to that fact. It’s not that you can’t make jokes, it’s that you shouldn’t have to because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even let you apologize before he’s pulling you into his arms, hands shaking, doing his best not to imagine what kind of sick fuck would do that to you

“Simon, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone is firm and he’s refusing to let you go, so instead of arguing, you opted to melt into his embrace. Hands running up and down his back and as he’s kissing the crown of your head he’s wondering how worthwhile it’d be to give the fucker a visit. Maybe teach him a lesson or two.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Laughing with your joke at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks

“Beg your pardon?”

You explain the joke and the context with a dismissive laugh before going back to what you were doing and he’s just frozen in place

Someone… hurt you… in one of the most awful ways imaginable, and you’re laughing it off?

He’s not sure if he should be in awe at your resilience or concerned at your choice of coping mechanism, so he takes a gentle approach

“Bonnie, you know you can talk to me, aye?”

“I know, I just… don’t want to burden you with it. I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault it happened.” He’s holding your hands in his, gently massaging the space between your thumb and your index finger,

“Aye that’s true, but it’s you. And I love you, good and bad included.” He gently held the back of your head and kissed your forehead,

“Anytime you feel like talkin’ I’m here. Copy?”

He doesn’t usually bring work jargon home but he knows it gets a laugh from you, and sure enough your little giggle proved him right

“Copy.”

John Price:

The whiplash also broke his neck

“Sorry, what?”

His heart broke when you explained yourself and whined that the explanation ruined the punchline

“Sweetheart, that’s no laughin’ matter.” His tone was gentle as he approached you, hands hesitantly coming to rest on your hips, suddenly unsure of himself

“Honey, I’m fine. It’s how I cope.”

“I know, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. Just, maybe, talk to me about it instead, yeah?” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth of his palm, trapping it between your cheek and your shoulder

“I don’t wanna be a downer, John.”

“Never. I’m more concerned for your well-being than bloody mood. Am I clear?” As you looked in his eyes, you saw nothing but honesty and genuine concern, so you nodded

You closed your eyes and kissed his palm before he pulled you in to a tight embrace.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He heard you say it and weakly laughs before stopping as he chews on the words a little more

“Wait, what was that?”

And when you’re passively explaining it to him in the same way you’d talk about the weather he is in shock

He’s not sure if you’re trying to put on a brave face if you’re as nonchalant as you seem. He’s inclined to believe it’s the former.

“Babe that’s no joke. That’s kind of serious.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kyle. It’s how I’ve dealt with it. I’ve got it.”

He’s unsure but at the same time if it’s really worked for you so far then there’s no harm in letting it continue right? Wrong. He’s a little uncomfortable but it’s more so because it happened to you, someone he loves so deeply and he can’t fathom the idea

“Well yeah, I get that. But maybe we can talk about it when you feel like joking about it?” He shrugs, his words cautious and carefully chosen as he makes his suggestion

“I just want you to be alright. Ok?” His arms are rubbing yours before he’s pulling you into a hug, “I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

König:

Not a single chuckle from this man as he’s chewing over the words in his head

“Schatz, what’d you just say?”

When you explained what happened with a shrug and an all too casual tone, he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek

He doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, never in a million years, but jesus christ schatz, surely there’s no way?

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he just can’t believe it happened to you, you’re the light of his life, his reason for existing, you’re the morning sun and the midnight moon, he’s truly in shock

“König?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and in two short steps he was in front of you, sinking to his knees and hugging your middle. He’s buried his face in your shoulder as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you run your fingers through his hair.

“Liebling, please don’t make those jokes anymore, ok?” His voice is so small and fragile, you almost felt like it was a child talking instead of the 6’ something behemoth at your feet, “I can’t stand to hear that you’ve been hurt like that.”

“König it’s ok, really. Humor is how I cope.” You kiss the crown of his head and your chin against it,

“I know, liebling, I know but I’d much rather you talk to me ok? Please? For me?”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

[yanderecrazysie]

what would some of the haikyuu yanderes do if their darling has severe trauma from being verbally abused when she was 13 and she saw the three people who would abuse them (i definitely didnt just go running to hide from them while bawling my eyes out and shaking-)

I hope you’re doing better! I unfortunately can relate ): Seeing abusers again is so stressful and it feels like it’s happening all over again. I hope you can avoid them for the rest of your life, my precious anon.

I wasn’t sure which characters to use so I did a ton of them. The more the merrier, and I hope at least one is comforting for you!

Pairings: Lots of Haikyuu characters x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, referenced past abuse, violence (fighting), murder, threats, panic attacks, abusers should go to jail for life imho

Summary: When you come face-to-face with your abusers from years prior, how will your yanderes react when they see you fall apart?

KARASUNO

Daichi

Daichi’s level-headed but angry. His voice is booming when he tells them to back off. He puts an arm around your waist possessively and doesn’t let go until your abusers are out of sight.

Sugawara

Sugawara focuses a lot on trying to make you feel safe. He’s whispering comforting words as he leads you away from those awful people and he only touches you if you are okay with it, since he knows that can be triggering to some people. He’ll defend you if necessary, but he’s more worried than threatened.

Asahi

Asahi may be a little bit of a coward, but he’s aware that he’s “scary-looking” and uses that to his advantage. Your abusers wouldn’t dare go after you when a guy like Asahi stands between you and them. He’s happy to see them leave without having to fight, but a part of him wishes he could punch them in their evil faces.

Tanaka

Tanaka is not afraid to fight at all. He’ll pull off his shirt and whirl it around his head like a lasso while he yells things like “Want a piece of me?” and “That’s right, you better run!” While a fight might not break out, it’s possible. And Tanaka will leave them bloody and bruised if needed.

Nishinoya

Nishinoya would instigate a fight, furious that they would dare hurt someone as precious as you. The moment they say something scathing, he’s on them like a small hurricane. He’s not the best fighter, so he might come out on the losing side, but he’s not going to give up.

Tsukishima

He’s taunting them the moment you show fear. He does his best to draw their attention away from you and onto the mocking, button-pushing jerk who seems to know just what to say to piss them off. When they’re finally slunk away, he’s gentler and buys you ice cream or your favorite treat, even though he doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better.

Yamaguchi

Yamaguchi is trembling like a leaf when he tells them to “g-go away!” He’s better at comforting you later on, fretting over you and helping you take deep breaths if you’ve gone into a panic attack. He’ll squeeze your hand tightly and tell you that he’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.

Hinata

Hinata might feel a little afraid, but he’s still claiming to know karate and giving your abusers a death glare. He doesn’t care if he gets beat up, as long as it gives you time to run away and hide yourself from them. He’s glad when they back off because it means he can now focus on making you feel better.

Kageyama

Kageyama is intimidating even when he’s not angry. And right now? He’s angry. It takes him a little while to catch on that you’re afraid (he’s a little dense), but when he does, he’s frightening the abusers away with threats of serious violence.

FUKURODANI

Akaashi

Akaashi’s quiet in his rage and decides to pull you away so you don’t have to be around them anymore. If they follow, he’ll be sure to call the police, but most likely, he’ll just focus on trying to keep you calm and keep you away from those monsters.

Bokuto

Bokuto’s normally such a happy guy, so seeing him upset is a little scary. When he’s done scaring your abusers away, he’s all over you like an excited puppy, doing everything he can to cheer you up. He’ll find your abusers again later, if he can, and make sure they never come anywhere near you ever again.

AOBA JOHSAI

Oikawa

His threats come out sounding almost charming, even if his words are anything but. He can be intimidating when he wants to be and it sends shivers down everyone’s spine. Once they’ve left, he’s spoiling you like nobody’s business to get your mind off of it.

Iwaizumi

He throws the first punch, no doubt about it. He already knows what they look like because you’d shown him pictures when he demanded to see who hurt you, but this is the first time he’s seen them in person. He may go so far as to “accidentally” kill them if he beats them up too much.

Kyoutani

Kyoutani, on the other hand, will kill them outright. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, not when it’s for you. He’s not good at comforting you, so he’ll just get rid of the threat once and for all.

NEKOMA

Kuroo

Kuroo knows what’s happened to you, so when you begin to have a panic attack, he immediately knows what’s going on. He’s quick to stand between you and them, speed walking you away or even scooping you up into his arms and carrying you away. A part of him wishes they’d start a fight, but he doesn’t want to upset you more than they have.

Kenma

Kenma is not a fighter and he wants to avoid it as much as possible. But he still cannot forgive your abusers and is sure to give them a nasty stare. He’ll try to distract you from your fear by leading you away and having you play his handheld video games until you’ve nearly forgotten about the incident.

Lev

Lev is an oblivious guy, so he doesn’t see that they have upset you for a little while. When he does, he’s confused and whispers with you to figure out what’s going on. When it finally dawns on him, he picks you up and carries you away, speed walking with those long legs of his until you’re far, far away from those awful people.

Yamamoto

Pretty much the same as Tanaka, he’s raring for a fight and intimidating your abusers away with a borderline laughable attitude. His antics might cheer you up a little, especially when he’s chased them away.

DATEKO

Aone

He’s so big and frightening, I doubt your abusers will come anywhere near you. You can hide behind his back and cling to his shirt while he gives your abusers a pants-peeing-worthy glare.

Koganegawa

Similarly to Lev, it takes him a long time to figure out what’s going on, but he misunderstands the situation. He’ll walk right up to them and demand to know why they’re staring at his girlfriend and tells them that he doesn’t like it. This man is tall so they probably don’t want to have anything to do with him, squeaking out an apology and scurrying away.

SHIRATORIZAWA

Ushijima

He’s also intimidating without trying and will also march right up to your abusers. He asks them in a rumbling voice if they want to leave or get hurt, and they choose the former. He’s not a man of many words, so he kind of strokes your head and gives you all the affection you want afterwards.

Tendou

Similar to Tsukishima, Tendou is calling out mocking things with half-lidded eyes. He makes sure to hammer in the point that you’re his girlfriend and he’s not happy with what they’ve done. He’ll put an arm around you or hug you close out of both possessiveness and care.

Semi

Semi’s a death glare kind of person, putting an arm around your waist to lead you away. Seriously, if looks could kill, your abusers would be 6 feet under. He complains loudly about how stupid they are and how much he wishes he could kill them, hoping that will cheer you up and frighten them away.

Reon

He’s a laid-back guy and looks to solve the situation peacefully, even if he’s furious deep-down. He informs them that he’ll call the police if they harass you, and that’s not an idle threat. He’ll pull out his phone the minute they start anything, and he’ll defend you if it comes down to it. Most likely, he’ll focus on helping you calm down and feel safe.

Goshiki

Goshiki’s eager to prove what a great boyfriend he is, so he’s putting on a tough guy attitude as soon as he realizes what’s going on. He’s a bit dorky while doing it, so it might end up being more humorous to you than scary, but it does its job and he’s cuddling you close in no time.

Shirabu

Scathing remarks towards them, just utterly cruel jeers that hit them right where it hurts. He’s not going to fight them, probably, but he’ll definitely piss them off while leading you away. He’s not great at comforting you, but he’ll probably be extra affectionate when you’re away from them, if you’re okay with that.

INARIZAKI

Osamu

The more rational of the twins, he’s quick to pull you away and work on calming you down. He reminds you that you’re safe with him, that they can’t hurt you anymore, and that he’ll always be there for you. Inside, he’s seething mad at just the sight of them.

Atsumu

The less rational of the twins, he’s a mixture of rude remarks and threats towards them, acting possessively while showing that he’s ready to fight if needed. He’s kind of boastful in his taunting, if that makes sense, and he does a great job at showing off what they can no longer have- you.

Kita

Kita is pretty quiet and tries to pretend like nothing’s happening while he brings you away. He quietly asks if you’re okay and will drive you home to make sure you’re as far away from them as possible. You might not be sure that he really cares until the next day, when he’s brought you a basket of all your favorite things (treats, a plushie of your favorite animal, etc.) to cheer you up. 

Aran

Aran is normally a calm, level-headed, mature person… but when he sees you panicking, backing up and breathing hard at the sight of those that hurt you? Well, he loses it a little.

He’s yelling at them to back away, puffing himself up to look as tough as possible. He’s not a small guy, so whoever’s coming at you is going to be hesitant to go any further. Aran stands between you and the abusers to make sure they don’t try anything and stays that way until they slink away, tails between their legs.

Suna

 Death glares and makes remarks to you that are just loud enough for your abusers to hear and be offended by. He also films them to have evidence of their harassment, in case they try anything stupid. He makes fun of them to help cheer you up and makes sure you know that they can’t hurt you ever again.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #yandere x reader

[garlicbreadwitch]

My review of TUC season 3 in 7 parts

TLDR:

- definitely the worse of the 3

- only bad thing about viktors transition was the god awful hair and makeup on V***. (I’ve seen better wigs in a high school production of hairspray)

- the special effects were oddly hit and miss- see Marcus throwing the towel vs five sitting at the edge of the world.

- far too much exposition not enough action

- if your trying to figure out why you don’t like this season re-watch episode 9. Basically pointless except for the last few minutes. Didn’t need a whole episode of talking. (When they take an hour to think before they vote I nearly screamed - so boring).

- footloose was a highlight for me I only wish they’d kept this energy for the remainder of the season

- the acting was great (with the exception of Toms accent- he needs an accent coach next season please)

- some parts felt like bad fan fiction writing

- Felt like a filler season

-still excited for season 4

#PART 1 - Luther (& Sloane)

Luthers storyline this season was definitely designed to undo a lot of the ick he’d given fans before and tbh it worked. My only issue was how fast this love story happened making it feel not very grounded in reality.

I can’t decide if it got too much or not enough screen time but these two goofy dumb lovey characters had possibly one of my top arcs of the season. PS: I love Genesis - she did great work.

PART 2 - Diego (& Lilah)

As much as I love these two characters and the actors who play them. This was one of the worst written arcs of the season. Despite multiple conflicts none of these ever get far enough off the ground to be meaningful or lead to any sensible character development. The introduction of Stan was exciting but the writers immediately back-tracked and shoehorned in a surprise pregnancy. The writers again seemed to have forgotten that Lilah and Diego have only known each other for a few days to months max.

I would’ve liked to see the Stan storyline used to develop these characters more. Diego confronting his vigilante behaviour and recognising the need to put his child first, as wel as reconciling with his own daddy issues would have been welcome. While Lilah would confront her mommy issues and general childishness. Instead they dropped this story so quickly and it ended up meaning nothing.

(I think it would’ve been great had Stan been Diego and Lilahs actual child that Lilah kidnapped from the future in order to test Diego. Seeing future Lilah fight current Lilah would’ve been great and very on brand.) I felt like I was watching the filler chapter in a bad fanfiction- where the writer doesn’t want to have real conflict yet so they manufacture pretend fights with no real stakes that are over before they have any meaningful impact. Specifically Diego locking Lilah in the closet - im sure I’ve read that shitty fanfic before.

PART 3 - Alison (& trauma)

Possibly the most polarising plot line of the season I take no issue with Alison responding to her trauma. Do I think this is a teensy bit far for her character? yes- but I don’t overall hate this development.

I only wish we could’ve SEEN Alisons rage rather than being told about it. What is the point of showing some bloodied up knuckles or Alison saying she killed Harlan? (When Alison said this I actually thought it was a lie to hurt Victor because we didn’t see it on screen.) I would’ve loved to watch Emmy use her full talents to show us Alison grappling with her anger. Plus the incredible drama that could’ve been “I heard a rumor you dropped dead”. (Or even a redeeming mercy kill over sparrow torture?).

Much the same with the deal she makes with Reggie, it would’ve helped to see Reggie manipulate Alisons anger as well as her drive to protect her siblings. I don’t see why this needed to be a mystery when it was obvious to the audience pretty much straight away. Ugh.

PART 4 - Klaus (& his mom I guess?)

I didn’t hate Klaus and Reggies scenes. I liked seeing Klaus grasp his powers finally- but that’s it. The complete lack of any reference to the man Klaus was obsessed with the whole last season, plus the lack of cult references made this the most disappointing arc of the season. Klaus really had few moments to shine. With the exception of episode 10. And his mom was such an obvious step to get to the realisation there mothers are dead I won’t even mention it here.

Also how did he get into oblivion without a body? The writers thought we’d just accept that giant plot hole I guess.

PART 5 Five (& his existential crisis)

In the first two seasons Fives determination has been the primary momentum boost for the story. Essentially he drives the story forward while his siblings bumble around him. So with Fives retirement comes the apparent retirement of any good writing.

Fives lack of motivation does genuinely make the story duller. Everything after his visit to see his future self is pretty much a nothingburger while we wait for season four so he can have a mission again.

On a positive note I much preferred the interactions between five and Lilah than Diego and Lilah. Much truer to the previous seasons. The tattoo and the Pogo thing were mildly interesting but ultimately pointless.

As mentioned above I hated the drunken revelation storyline. It was obvious it was Alison straight away and the fact that Five who’s supposed to be a genius couldn’t do simple deductive reasoning really ground my gears.

PART 6 - Sparrow Ben (& the ever decreasing sparrows)

I did enjoy the new Ben. Justin Min did a fantastic job of being a whole new character and giving him depth. I liked evil Ben. His story made sense I only wish -much like with this whole season- that they’d shown us rather than told us his motivation. See Ben mumbling “because I have nothing else” in episode 8.

I don’t think it would’ve killed the writers to show us how lonely Ben is among the Sparrows. Show us how Reg’s bad parenting made him emotionally cold. I wish they would’ve showed us the Sparrows coldness in comparison to the umbrellas misguided affection for each other. Show us Ben longing for a brotherly love like Diego and Luther or a sisterly advice giver like Alison. That way I care a little more when he wants to be included in episode 8. PS would’ve loved more Klaus Ben interaction.

Also I hope I’m not the only person who wanted to see the Sparrows in action more.

PART 7 - Viktor (& the worst wig I’ve ever seen)

Honestly I liked Viktors transition. I thought it was handled well and didn’t affect the plot all that much. I was actually relieved when he was no longer wearing the V**** wig and makeup (whoever is responsible for the first episode hair and makeup for Elliot should be fired).

The Harlan plot was fine if heavy on exposition. I get that they needed to find a way for all the mothers to die but this whole bit was meh for me and far too forced.

I remember how excited I was watching the first episode and the foreshadowing of Harlan on the bus only for the story to be somewhat underwhelming all up. That was a metaphor for the whole season. So much foreshadowing and great work from season 2 ignored or poorly used.

I can only assume the writers have a great idea for season 4 and wish we could’ve condensed all of season 3 into two or three longer episodes and gotten to the point instead of 10 somewhat stagnant, constantly disappointing episodes.

There is an old piece of writers advice that says to show and not tell the audience. I only hope the umbrella academy writers hear this before they embark on season 4.

#the umbrella academy #robert sheehan #tom hopper #justin h min #emmy raver lampman #season 3 #elliot page #david castañeda #ritu arya #genesis rodriguez #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #alison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #aiden gallagher #ben hargreeves #sparrow academy #viktor hargreeves #hotel obsidian #tua spoilers #tua season 3

[madeofspite-and-memes]

I refuse

tw: kidnapping, restraints, trauma, PTSD, flashbacks, suicidal ideation, murder, gore, swearing, hurt/comfort? this got a little angsty-er than i meant it to

the hero was really fucking tired. so fucking tired.

there were a few theories roaming around about them. about why. because people had begun to notice. they noticed the sallow skin, they noticed the bags like bruises under their eyes. they noticed. so they bitched about it. what else would they do?

hero's tired of fighting villains and never defeating them.

hero is happy to save lives where they can.

hero's just tired because they always have the night shift.

hero doesn't care, hero's basically nocturnal.

hero thinks the agency is corrupt.

well, yes, but frankly their to tired to care.

hero was tired. they couldn't sleep. apparently years of unending horrors fucked up a persons mental sate or something. and apparently that meant fucking up their sleep schedule. which was really fucking annoying.

it was more annoying because the villain had taken a "liking" to hero that they didn't much appreciate. villain had declared it their mission to "fix" the hero. which they were unsurprisingly not fond of. especially now, tied to a chair, whilst villain ranted about take-out.

"...pizza? really, you don't want PIZZA! c'mon I'm hungry what food do you bloody want. who doesn't want pizza?" they demanded, resembling hero in their exhaustion.

"I'm not hungry" the hero had said it at least half a dozen times now they weren't confident that this would be the time villain listen.

"bullshit" the villain yelled, "you don't fucking eat, you don't fucking sleep. what's your fucking plan hero just stubborn your way to death?"

"doesn't sound half bad" hero shrugged. the villain screeched in frustration. this had become a routine. villain had made a habit of kidnapping hero just to yell at them about self-care or the importance of actually eating. trivial shit to be honest. hero didn't see the big deal.

what if nightmares stopped them sleeping? what if they couldn't eat without it coming back up? hero had seen awful things. and in too many domestic situations. robberies, hostage situations, gruesome homicides, mostly in peoples homes or the shops or the like. places all to ordinary. when they were a kid watching movies the big fights always happened in an underground base or on top of a mountain, somewhere far far far away from the characters home. the reality of heroism was a far more domestic setting. now everything set them of. food more than anything. its consistency was awful, somehow it always resembled something horrid, and before they knew it they were munching on the bones of a civilian they had failed to save last month, or slurping down their fallen friends blood. of course they couldn't keep it down.

the villain didn't understand. they didn't care, they just wanted hero to eat something, sleep a bit. hero didn't care because they wanted to go home and zone out at their bedroom wall.

"your eating something before you leave, ill force it down your fucking throat if i have to, your not leaving until you eat. ill kidnap you every fucking day until I'm sure you can be trusted to look after yourself i swear to god" the villain threatened, increasingly exasperated.

"why bother?"

"what"

"why. bother. somethings gonna get me. maybe your right and I'll starve to death, but what's the difference if supervillain decides to choke me out in my sleep tomorrow? or other-villain decides to torture me to death this time around? or the public turn on me. my days are numbered villain. I'm not gonna live much longer no matter what i do."

the villain stared for a second, eyes boring into the other.

"hero if you kill yourself i swear to god I'm gonna..."

"GONNA WHAT VILLAIN?" the hero roared, trembling with rage, finally losing their patience, "KILL MY FAMILY? MY FRIENDS? RANDOM CIVILIANS? YOU GONNA TORTURE ME? WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO TO ME THAT HALF A DOZEN OTHERS HAVEN'T ALREADY DONE" the hero ended breathlessly. it was silent for a moment.

"this job is killing you hero, you gotta stop" the villain whispered gently, careful not to provoke the other.

"untie me" hero demanded brokenly. villain didn't move, "i won't kill myself villain please just untie me"

"you know i can't trust that"

hero huffed. staring down the villain. they didn't know how to proceed from here.

"hero, I'm handing in your resignation to the agency tomorrow" villain stated coldly, determination setting in.

hero laughed, "your not"

"hero i am going to hand in your resignation letter tomorrow. and I'm kidnapping you" there was no room for negotiation.

"already done that for gods sake" hero grumbled but they knew what the villain meant.

"hero, i am so sorry or everything those bastards put you through, i want to kill every single one of them, and i will, but i will not avenge your death"

the villain left the hero with that. and didn't come back until much, much later, covered in blood that definitely wasn't their own.

#writing #my writting #writing ideas #whump writing #hero villain writing #whump stuff #whump

[honeyhotteoks]

Hello! This is a bit of a late response considering I read the 3 new chapters on the day you released them but I’ve been super busy and wanted to fully compliment them rather than respond in a rushed manner. I was actually on a college residential trip in Germany but dropped everything to read the new chapters, I was so excited and it did not disappoint! So here comes my stupidly long list of thoughts that no one asked for but I’m giving to you anyway because I am hyper fixated on this fanfic-

As a Hwa bias, chapter 10 was cruel, but in the best way possible. The way their alpha x alpha relationship is similar to that of wlw or mlm one in real life is so painful but such a smart metaphor. My situation is in fact very similar to his, being queer but financially dependant on my parents, so this definitely hit home. I hope the best for our Sanhwa but I love the subtle representation this dynamic is providing for us. The fact that neither of them let Wooyoung in on it because they want to protect him from the truth, are you trying to break my heart?! I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for them in future chapters. Mingi admitting fault is my favourite thing ever. I hate the trope of the main love interest being as close to perfection as one can be, Yungi having flaws humanises them so much and adds a whole lot of depth to their characters, making the story itself so much more interesting. But I’m also so happy that we are back into Yungi x Y/n fluffy era.

Chapter 11 was the prefect breath of air between 2 very angsty chapters. I literally love Wooyoungs character so much and getting to see him happy made me feel all giddy inside. Also love that Yeosang and Jongho are more included in this chapter. I hope we get to see Woosangs relationship develop more in future, they're such as cool side couple and deserve the best. The way Minseoks character slowly became more prevalent created great foreshadowing to the threat he would become, it’s paced so well and is such an enjoyable sense of anticipation.

And chapter 12. Oh chapter 12. Alike to chapter 10, I like the way that it represents trauma while being in a fictional and fantasy context. It gives the opportunity of being able to empathise with such an experience as it acts for a metaphor of traumatising experiences many of us have have in real life without directly describing it. And my god is it described well. I feel so much rage towards this fictional character, its not even funny. Once again Wooyo and Y/ns omega friendship that non of the others will ever be able to understand is so heart-warming and the way that Yungi and Woosanhwa put their differences aside when the person they love most was in danger. But also…wdym Hwa was sat with his head in his bloody hands?! I need to know! I didn’t even stop to think about the guys perspective because I was so invested in how Y/n perceived it but that teaser you dropped has made me so hungry for it. It’ll add weight to this climatic portion of the plot and so much depth to characters as were able to see how such an awful situation will influence their rational.

Once again Chai you have blown me away and allowed me to enjoy reading in a way I never believed I could. I’ll continue rereading these amazing chapters until the next update. Much love,

- 👻 anon

oh my goodness thank you SO much for this comment. i've read it a couple of times now, and i just really appreciate that chapter ten resonated with you. it took a while to figure out that dynamic with san and hwa, but i'm really happy with how it came together.

i hope you also enjoy the chapter 12 from the boys perspective release.... your comment on seonghwa's bloodied hands..... all is revealed and i really hope you enjoy that too!!

thank you as always!

#answered anon #👻 anon #tnt ask

[erodasfishtacos]

Just an idea for a concept but no pressure: cheating harry and y/n just finished having sex and they are cuddling (u know being all cute and I love) and Anna turns up at Harry’s door seeing if they can hang out coz they never do and he wasn’t answering his phone and she tried to just walk into his place like he did when she turned up and they were watching that movie (I’m not sure of the name of the concept) and he had to force her to stay outside and it’s really angst between them coz she gets really suspicious but eventually leaves and he just goes and cuddled in bed with y/n and they laugh about it

Disruptions

warnings: cheating, smut, brief mention of domestic violence, panic attacks, this could just be overall triggering if you have experienced trauma or family struggles.

if you enjoyed this blurb - PLEASE reblog, rec, like, and come chat with me about the fic!

—

“Puppy, yeah,” Harry murmurs encouragingly, she was almost there and she looked like an angel in the low light, “Y’look so pretty, give it t’me.”

YN whines in the back of her throat, her hips were slowly rolling forward as she sat atop of him - trying milk that friction of her clit.

“Sweet thing, c’mon,” Harry goads, gripping her waist with strong hands to speed up her languid rolls as he wants her to finish before him.

“Close, H,” YN sweetly chirps, letting him lead her motions until she’s halting and throwing her head back in bliss, lips parting and eye squeezed shut.

“There y’go, good fuckin’ girl,” He praises her before giving two more pumps before he’s releasing right after her.

As he is in the midsts of his orgasm, he hears a quiet ‘I love you’ from above him as she rubs at his chest as he rides it out.

Harry could have heard that whisper from across the fucking ocean, it has him sitting up and pulling her into a hard kiss before babbling against her sore lips.

“Puppy, I love you. You’re so perfect for me. Y’don’t even have t’wonder why you’re the only one I give it to,” He tells her confidently, panting against her mouth.

She doesn’t say anything but her smile is enough for him, he carefully pulls out and flips her on her back before grabbing a towel and wiping her down with adoration deep in his bones.

When she had just curled in to his side, pressing her bare chest against his warm skin, he kisses the top of her head, “You’re my favorite person, y’know that?”

“Harry,” She says, barely above a whisper with her face nuzzled in tight - shying away from what she really feels.

“Please baby,” He replies softly, she knows what he asking for and she will never say no to him when it comes to this.

“I know. I love you s-so much.”

“Whoa, pup. Don’t cry,” Harry chuckles sweetly, “I know, I know you do. Believe me I do.”

She nods, sniffling, she sometimes get emotional after they had intimate slow sex as opposed to the high intensity, lust-driven kind.

It’s quiet as Harry scratches up and down her back, soothing her like he always has and always will, no matter what.

He always finds inner peace when her breathing slows and her facial features relax - all worries and anxiety disappearing.

She had just let out a light snore when he hears a banging on his front door, loud and insistent, and it has YN sitting straight up in bed.

“Wha-Harry, I-who?” YN stammers, her chest starting to heave as she begins to panic from the sudden noise.

-

“Harry, you have to leave,” YN whimpers, the knocking deafening on the front door, “My mum locked him out and he’s going to break it down.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone!” He hisses back, standing up and locking her bedroom door, “Let’s go sneak out the window to my house.”

—-

Harry’s automatically furious with whoever it is, the love of his life triggered as he just knows she’s reliving one of her awful memories.

“Sweetheart, please breathe. S’okay, you know I’d never let anything hurt you. Never have, never will,” Harry coos, he’s standing up to walk to his closet, reaching up for the weighted blanket he keeps for her. “I’m gonna go see who it is.”

“Y-you can’t! You’ll get hurt! Don’t, please,” she begs, eyes wide in fear for him and his safety as she pants.

Harry wraps her like a burrito in the blanket before looking her firmly in her eye, “Remember what your therapist said for when you’re panicking. Do that, please baby.”

She searches his eyes before hesitantly letting hers close, focusing on her breathing and imaging a happy place away from here - a meadow with Harry is what she likes to think about.

Harry slips on his briefs and athletic shorts with annoyance - well absolute rage really. He’s stomping down his stairs with loud steps.

He whips open the front door to see Anna standing there with a pursed look, “Oh, look! So you are alive! What a miracle.”

Harry automatically glares at her, “It’s past bloody midnight, what are you doing here?”

She scoffs in disbelief, “You ditched me tonight! You were suppose to come to the bar with my friends and I! And then you just never answered your phone.”

Yeah, well he had forgotten because YN wanted to watch a new movie and he could never say no to YN.

“I fuckin’ forgot, shit,” Harry huffs, not moving aside to let her in as she steps forward.

“Well, I came over so we could hang out,” Her voice mellowing out a little bit, features softening as she reaches out to stroke his bicep.

All he could think about was his afraid little love upstair using her coping skills to deal with the panic Anna had set off.

“Why would I want to hang out at fuckin’ two-thirty in the mornin’?” Harry replies blandly, like she’s an idiot.

“We could cuddle? Watch a movie?” Anna suggests with a shrug, attempting to giving him a coy look, “Fuck?”

They’d never even done anything apart from a few pecks.

“S’late, I’m too tired for this bullshit.”

“How is that bullshit? It’s so fucking annoying Harry! I know if you’re little bitch of a friend wanted to do that you would!”

She was completely right.

When he hears the vulgar name being thrown at YN, he grits his teeth and says, “Watch your fuckin’ tone, I’ll text y’tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine,” Anna surrenders angrily, turning on her heel and storming back to her car.

Harry slams his door shut so she gets the hint but then automatically feels regretful as he knows it didn’t make YN feel any better.

When he goes up to the bedroom, she’s not in the bed, and Harry hears the shower going so he’s stepping into his bathroom.

It’s a glass door and he can see the beautiful form of her from behind it. There’s not steam in the room because he knows the water is cold.

Not ice cold but barely warm.

When the imagery and breathing didn’t help, usually a cold shower was next, and Harry carefully slides open the door.

“Hi baby,” He murmurs, keeping his eyes on hers and nowhere else - not wandering or curious like they’d be if she was okay.

“Hi,” She answers shakily, her eyes were a bit swollen and puffy but she was giving him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Do y’need anythin’?”

He wasn’t going to ask to come in because it wasn’t about him.

YN nods, “Will you come hold me? I-it’s cold so if you don’t want to-“

He’s already stripping, he’s hold her in the waters of Antarctica if she asked - he was so bloody gone for her, past the point of self-preservation.

Harry’s wrapping her up in his arms, trying to hide his grimace at the cold stream - colder than her usual but she rarely gets woken up like that.

Therapy had been doing wonders for her.

It may seem like it’s still an intense reaction but it had improved so much from where she had started before the help.

—

Harry had a key to her apartment and he had texted her multiple times that’s he was coming over but she must have forgotten.

She was cleaning her kitchen when he opened the door.

Luckily, he managed to duck as a plate comes hurling at him. This wasn��t the first time it’s happened - not close.

As it hits the wall and shatters, he looks up to find her guiltily meeting his gaze before mumbling out an apology.

He steps over it, meeting her in the kitchen, and kissing her nose, “S’okay, y’didnt get me. I just wished you weren’t so scared, pup.”

—

“It was Anna,” YN states against his damp skin.

“Yeah, I ditched her and she was pissed,” Harry shrugs, unbothered and coldly uncaring about the situation.

“Mmm,” She acknowledges lowly, her hands snaking around his waist.

“Please.”

It was simple, YN knew what he was asking.

Please let me break up with her.

It hurt YN just as much when she couldn’t do anything but shake her head ‘no’ and swallow harshly.

—

Whew doggy. Thoughts?

#harry styles cheating #cheating!harry blurb #cheating!harry masterlist #cheating!harry #harry styles writing

[dykedivorce]

here is an avadeb ~drabble (1k) about ava wanting to protect deb from Men. it's not much of anything but it has the merit of existing so i thought eh. might as well share it, it's not doing any good sitting on my laptop.

Deborah is not interested in pity, and Ava doesn’t have any to offer. What she has instead is a dark awe in understanding her trauma and seeing how she's managed to live with it, and mostly, rage.

Deborah seems taken aback the first few times, like she can’t fathom someone feeling angry on her behalf for shit that happened so long ago, but she doesn’t seem to mind, so Ava tells her. That’s fucked up. He shouldn’t have done that. It’s awful that this happened to you. I wish I could bash his head in, I wish I could strangle him, I wish I’d been there to rip off his balls and make him eat the gory bits. 

Deborah laughs dismissively but Ava is dead serious. She’s never understood the urge for time travel like she does when Deborah says, I was 23, I was 35, I was 47, and some man’s name that saw Deborah as an object to touch, to possess, to do as he pleased with. She believes if she wills it enough, if she lets the anger grow and grow, then she might wake up in 1974 one morning, ready to swing a baseball bat at any guy who comes too close to Deborah. She was never much of a fighter, but she could learn. She’d break Frank's nose on the night he met her, and one of his fingers every time he so much as glanced at Kathy. She’d make everything right, bloody hands and burst knuckles for Deborah’s safety.

But she always wakes up in the present, when it’s been years of Deb dealing with all that alone, and Ava curses herself for being too late to help. Yet another reason not to believe in God that she adds to the list: if she exists and decided to reunite Ava with Deborah after 70 years of struggle, when Ava can’t do anything about it anymore, well, fuck her and her cruelty. Who would have faith in a God like this? 

If she could pick any moment in history to be born, she’d pick the same day as Deborah.

There's such a funny look in Deborah's eyes when she sees that Ava means it whens she says she would beat any man to a bloody pulp for her. There's exasperation, briefly, because Ava is young and passsionate but Deborah is perfectly capable of defending herself. Then, there's something else. It's a late-night work session again, and Ava is going to sleep over again, and they're a little drunk in the study once more. Sitting on the same couch, Ava's body is fully turned towards Deborah because she's listening to another tale of gross misogyny from the 80s. Elbow on the back of the couch, she's supporting her head on her palm, heavy-lidded and bone-tired. Maybe that's why she says it without an ounce of laughter, for once.

"I'd fucking kill him if I could."

Deborah's own laughter dies quietly as she studies Ava. It's silent for long enough that Ava would get uncomfortable if she was less drowsy and full of wine. As it is, she lets Deborah look at her without fidgeting.

"You mean that, don't you?"

And there, that face. Like Ava is indecipherable for the first time in her life. Ava doesn't quite get what's so incomprehensible about wanting to kill a guy who hurt someone you love. She nods in her palm, yawns with her eyes closed.

"Yeah."

When she opens them again, Deborah is still staring right at her, mouth is slightly-open now, and something about the whole scene sends an unexpected warmth down Ava's stomach.

"Why are you looking at me like I'm about to get eaten?"

She almost corrects herself by adding "like an antilope", once she notices how inapropriate that sounded, but thinks better of it. Let Deborah interpret it however she wants, she's too tired to pretend she doesn't find it hot. Deb raises one perfect eyebrow.

"Are you, now?"

Ava shrugs. She doesn't feel up for verbal sparring right now, she just wants a goodnight kiss on the cheek and to sleep for 10 uninterrupted hours. Deborah finally looks away from her.

"Thank you. For what you said."

Ava almost asks what she said, before she remembers their their initial conversation about that guy in 1984 putting his fucking hands where they should never have been. Had she been born at the right time, he would have ended his life with two stumps at the end of his arms. She aches for a knife again.

Something on her face must show that she's fantasizing about violent repercussions for crimes against Deborah, because she chuckles.

"What do you think you could have done, Mike Tyson? You have the hands but I very much doubt you have the force."

Ava gets offended in spite of herself. It wakes her up a little.

"First of all I absolutely have the force to go against any underdeveloped bitchass manchild any day of the week." No, she doesn't. "Secondly-"

"Oh God, there's a list!" Deborah interrupts with the face that says Ava's being ridiculous, but that she finds herself unexpectedly delighted by it. Ava's got to find a name for that face, it appears too often not to.

"Secondly," she insists, "I could go at it with a little finesse."

"Well, now I know you're bluffing. I've never seen you do anything with subtlety, much less finesse."

"Wh- I've got finesse coming out of my ass! I could do finesse all day!"

Deb laughs in earnest now, whole body moving with it, melting into the couch, and a fond smile settles on Ava's face. Lately she finds she's okay with being a little humiliated for Deborah's amusement. But she's also trying to make a point, so she waits until Deborah is done before she speaks again.

"I would have destroyed them for you."

Deborah takes her hand and squeezes gently.

"Well, when I think about those encounters now, I do sometimes picture you as this little... little creature, in my pocket or sitting on my shoulder maybe, livid with rage and putting curses on them as soon as they turn away." She shakes her head, like she can't believe she's sharing this. "My personal little feminist curse caster."

Deborah is laughing again, self-depreciating and a little exasperated at her own silliness.

Ava is gaping. She doesn't know what to process first: how similar their thoughts on the matter are, or how Deborah referring to her with a possessive pronoun made her want to kiss her so badly she barely just restrained herself.

Ava doesn't tell her about the time-travel fantasy, but it's the closest she ever comes to.

#hacks #hacks hbo #avadeborah #don't look at me english isnt my first language and im terrible at it suddenly i dont know how to read even just DONT LOOK AT ME #my fanfics

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

[propshophannah]

umm i think ppl are over reacting,, az was not being toxic or possesive, he's been pining for elain for 3 years and he now knows she feels the same way for him,, and to the ppl that said that him being turned on was creepy,, wait till we see elains pov bc im pretty sure she was thinking the same. pls it's okay to not like scenes and characters and ships but cmon,, some eluciens are butchering him

Hi Nonnie! I heard that the fandom was getting crazy so I’ve been avoiding looking at posts and stuff. If Az came off creepy it wasn’t because he was turned on. LMFAO. Elain was turned on, too. SHE ALSO INITIATED THE ENTIRE SCENE! We don’t even need her POV to tell us what she wanted either—Maas straight up tells us this in that scene. LOL to everyone who skipped that part and those lines. I mean… it wasn’t even subtext. It was literally written on the page. (I’m writing an analysis of that scene, stay tuned!)

If he came off creepy, it was because he articulated a sense in entitlement—which given the situation wasn’t entirely out of line! Sorry, it just wasn’t. 

And here’s why: We’ve all had moments where we are so fucking mad—and everything around us seemed to be going in everyone else’s favor BUT ours—so we got angry. And vengeful. And we got a little lost in those feelings, some of us drowned in them, and we did things and said things and we came off like a fucking asshole. FACTS.

If some people think that’s never happened to them, then they’re either lying to themselves or not paying attention to themselves. It’s as simple as that, Nonnie. 

We all do dumb, potentially toxic things when we’re mad or upset. That’s the law of the land and not one single person in the fandom, or the world, is above that. Not. One. 

And LETS. BE. REAL. Elain is NOT above reproach for the role she *actively* plays in this cluster fuck. She is just as guilty of stringing Lucien and Az along in that she hasn’t made a decision on whether to accept or reject the mating bond. Or in just saying “Look, Lucy, babe, I don’t like this. It’s stressing me out. Please leave me alone for the next 2.5 years or until I say ‘when’ before you come around again. Thanks!” She doesn’t even need to say it to Lucien. THAT’S THE KICKER. She could tell Feyre. Tell one of the Shadows to tell Feyre or Rhys or Mor and Nesta OR ANYONE with the power to say “Hey, we can’t invite Lucy to Solstice because Elain doesn’t want it.” This is a situation where getting other people to play the bad guy for you, is 100% socially acceptable. 

Hell, LUCIEN could be the one to initiate this. To pick up on what Elain IS NOT THROWING OUT and say, “Hey, Rhys, babe. Thanks for the Solstice invite, but I don’t think Elain appreciates my presence, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. How about I send you her gift from me, then I, like, check in every now and then and you can find a way to let her know I’m in town and if you invite me to dinner, I’ll take that as a sign that she’s okay with me being there for dinner and nothing more. No expectations.” It’s not hard. 

(We could argue that Lucien continuing to come around IS JUST AS WEIRD/CREEPY. READ THE ROOM DUDE.)

Now I WILL say that there is an argument to be made that Elain *may* not grasp the gravity of a mating bond because she was born in a different culture. That’s totally fair. BUT she’s had plenty of time to learn what that means having spent so much time around Feyre and Rhys and the others. 

So the idea that Azriel is the only one who deserves to be vilified is nonsensical. 

ALSO, and this is something I will be including in the analysis I’m working on and will hopefully finish tomorrow (I’m going to break that Az POV down so that everyone and their third cousin, twice removed, can understand), is that AZRIEL’S WHOLE SHTICK IS WAITING.  He looooves to wait. Fucking LOVES it. It’s his whole job y’all. It’s weird, and related to his daddy issues when you apply it to females, but it’s his life. He LITERALLY tells us this in ACOSF. Remember at the end when Cassian is complaining about how he HATES spying because he has no patience? 

Az is like “It seems you’ve forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment. People don’t engage in their evil deeds when it’s convenient to you.” 

Cassian explains why he stopped spying because it “...bored him to death. I don’t know how you put up with this all the time.” 

Az says, “It suits me.”

 BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

MF BOOOOOM.

Az likes to play the long game. Not saying it’s healthy, but that suits him. He’s good at waiting. He HAD TO BE. HE WAS LOCKED AWAY FOR YEARS AND HAD TO WAIT FOR THE CHANCE TO SEE HIS MOTHER. And the sun. And his hateful brothers. He doesn’t know any better/how else to be. And there is a lot of trauma and conflicting feelings tangled in this. 

It’s only creepy when you fail to grasp the nuance. But if you stand too close to a painting, you can’t see the whole thing. Back up, people. Back up.

Az has spent his whole life waiting. It’s how he learned to be. And now that his brothers are all happily mated he’s looking back on all his waiting—on his entire life—and he’s having a crisis. Or a crisis is looming. What has his waiting gotten him? Why has his patience not been rewarded? Why not him?

You combine that thinking with anger and you’ve got a recipe for momentary entitlement. For rage so thick and consuming that you want to punch a wall and work yourself to death because at least when you’re working you can compartmentalize and not deal with the reality that YOUR ENTIRE LIFE MODEL hasn’t worked for you. That you got left behind somewhere and it was your fault.

Az is headed for a mid-life crisis or an emotional breakdown—or some big horrific moment where he realizes he can’t keep doing what he’s been doing, that his entire world is built on a foundation that’s crumbling. And if you’ve never ever had that happen to you, then I’m jealous. And I’m happy for you. Because it’s terrifying. Bloody awful fucking terrifying.

#ACOSF spoilers #acosf spoiler #mini Az Analysis #az POV chapter analysis #Azriel POV analysis #elain x Az #Elain X lucien #Elriel #they're all to blame to some extent #lucien is not innocent here #neither is elain #analysis post

[quokkacore]

son of wolves IV [park chanyeol and byun baekhyun]

summary: your entire life, you’ve fought bravely to defend the walls of your home from the evil forest spirits of the spearwood trying to destroy it, alongside your family, friends, and your betrothed, baekhyun. until you’re infected by the evil that resides in one of these spirits, and you run away from home, before it can spread to those around you. it’s in your exile, wandering through the spearwood that you meet the wolf prince, a tall man of hardened eyes, few words, and a fiery temperament, raised by these spirits you’ve so grown to resent. it’s here that you begin to question everything you’ve ever known, and wonder whether the evil was out here, in the forest, or inside the walls of a place you once called home.

pairings: hunter!baekhyun x reader, wolfprince!chanyeol x reader

genre: reverse princessmononoke!au, ANGST, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fantasy epic, war au, wolf!au

warnings: reader was drugged, language, MAJOR violence tw (gun violence and stabbing to be specific), animal death, threats of violence, loss of consciousness due to head trauma, body horror, horrible writing!!!

song recs: leave a trace - chvrches // lost it to trying - son lux // i will never die - delta rae // the legend of ashitaka - joe hisaishi // victory song - stray kids // pray for me // the weeknd & kendrick lamar // garden song - phoebe bridgers 

word count: 10.0k

a/n: im srry this is so late pls dnt hate me

this is the final chapter of sow!! i’m so glad i finally finished it. i love this fic, i really do. but this is SOO overdue.

main masterlist // story masterlist

A fog hung over your head. You could barely see three feet in front of you, and everything was hazy. What you knew was that you were in the inner circle—it wasn't as cold. The sound of paws and feet crunching against the snow wasn't that far away from you. It stopped a few seconds later.

"Hello?" You called, slowly walking towards the sound. "Chanyeol?"

Again, the sound of paws and feet, but this time in the opposite direction. You reeled, now unsure of which way to go. A sense of dread was beginning to pool in your stomach. 

"Sehun? Junmyeon?" Your voice was small and shaky, taking one step forward. "Chanyeol?"

You stood still, waiting for a sign, a sound. The forest was dead silent. When you tried to take a step forward, your body turned rigid. Every single hair on your body stood straight up. 

And then, you began to shake. Just as the fog cleared, and two figures appeared in front of you. Both of them beaten bloody, chests heaving, eyes burning with rage. Chanyeol's shirt was torn, and there was a cut running across his chest, staining the ruined fabric. Tears were streaking his dirt stained face. 

Baekhyun's left cheek was swollen, quickly turning purple. His right cheek was bleeding. But he seemed more steady. His sword was drenched in drying blood. 

And then you noticed the wolves. 

All four of Chanyeol's brothers lay dying all around them, warm crimson melting the snow as they bled out. You could hear them whining in pain as they did, legs twitching in pain. 

You tried to call out to them, but you choked on black tendrils, bursting through your throat. Your jawbone cracked as they did, tremors wracking your body as you gagged on your cries of pain. All you could do was watch in horror as they charged at each other, hurling curses and obscenities at each other. 

The tremors in your body intensified, your injured arm cracking as the black, oily coils shot forward, wrapping around your throat.

Spots danced across your vision, your head beginning to pound as you couldn't breathe. Your vision lost focus, eyes blurring with tears. 

The last thing you saw was Baekhyun's sword impaling Chanyeol's chest, the iron bursting through his back. As his younger brother's blood splattered across his face and neck, Baekhyun's face broke into a sadistic grin. 

A horrible laugh rang throughout the forest, and you awoke with a start, hands grabbing at your neck to unwrap inky coils that weren't there. You were sweating and your chest was heaving.

Slowly, you sat up, blinking furiously to allow your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. You could tell that it was still relatively early, maybe before nine.  When you caught your breath, you wiped the sweat off of your brow. Your throat felt itchy and your head was pounding. Getting up was one thing, walking to the door was another. You were disoriented and dizzy, nauseous, even. You jiggled the door, and sighed when it wouldn’t budge. 

You glanced towards the window, even though you knew it was too small for you to jump out of. Rubbing your temples and letting out a deep sigh, you tried to push all of the events of last night to the back of your mind, Baekhyun’s betrayal refusing to fade to the back of your head. You lay down on the bed again, processing everything you knew now.

You loved Baekhyun, you really did. Yesterday morning, when he had kissed you, you felt relieved that you were in his arms again. 

But Baekhyun’s kisses, contrary to what you had originally thought, no longer felt as comforting or as safe. Even before he had thrown you to the wolves, metaphorically speaking. Chanyeol’s lips on yours permeated your mind, the memory stuck in your head. 

You found that the more you tried to pull away from the thought of that tall, mysterious man, the tighter his grip became—deep down, you knew that only in coming closer would you be released. Vaguely, it reminded you of the toy your father had brought you once when you were a child, woven out of thin strips of bamboo. Sticking your index fingers in, and then trying to pull them out was impossible, as the toy stretched and its hold got tighter. However, when you pushed them together, the toy expanded, and your fingers were released.

Were three weeks even long enough to fall in love? Two, considering the fact that the first week he basically wanted to kill you? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that right now, Chanyeol’s safety, as well as that of his brothers and of Selyne, was all you wanted.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the front door. You turned to face the door, waiting with bated breath. Had they returned so soon?

You were disappointed when the bedroom door swung open, Yixing standing awkwardly in the doorway. He stared at you, emotionlessly, before he sighed and stepped inside. Your eyes watched his every move like a hawk, and scowled at him when he sat down on the chair where your clothes were. 

“I’m here to do a check-up,” He told you, “You’re still recovering.”

“What, from my cold induced madness or the huge stab wound in my back?” You spat. He looked down, face not changing. He almost looked ashamed.

“I’m sorry you see it that way.” His voice was quiet. “I brought you some food and some water. You can eat that and then we can get started. I know you must be hungry.”

He pulled out a bowl wrapped in fabric, as well as a canteen from his bag. When he showed you what was inside—rice and some beef—you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. After last night, you weren't sure you ever wanted to eat anything again. Yixing shook his head once he realized. Which meant he knew.

"There's nothing in it," He said, sounding earnest. "I promise, Y/N." 

You would have refused, but the pounding in your head seemed to be unending. It didn’t take long for your resolve to crack. You drank almost all of the water in the canteen, and you practically inhaled the meal. 

“The troops left three hours ago. About a hundred and twenty soldiers total. Baekhyun, Minseok and Jongdae are leading them,” He informed you, fiddling with his clothes and staring at the walls. 

You didn’t reply, too angry to do so.

When you finished, you allowed him to do his check up. He asked you about how you were feeling, how certain parts of your body felt, like your legs and your chest, if you’d been feeling dizzy or nauseous. He was done fairly quickly, and as he packed away the now empty bowl, spoke up again.

“Remember the time Jongdae dared me to sneak out into the Spearwood when we were younger?”

“When Minseok misfired and shot you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. How could I forget after the way your dad almost punched Min?”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was no joy behind it. “I spent about three hours out there. I never told you guys, but I got lost pretty quickly. I panicked once I realized I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was gonna get killed by some animal in the name of the gods or something. You know how I panic.”

You nodded, humming, unsure of where he was going. “It was summertime,” He continued, “So it wasn’t as quiet as it is now. And about halfway through those three hours, I heard branches snapping behind me, and… this thing sounded big, Y/N. I-I just about shit my pants when I turned. Because I had never seen a bear so close to me before, and it was huge, and it was headed towards me.”

He looked up at you, eyes full of awe. “I was so freaked out, it didn’t occur to me to try and shoot it or to play dead or anything. All I could do was stand there, trying not to scream or provoke it. It walked right past me, and kept walking straight. I thought I should run or hide, until it turned back to look at me and… she spoke to me. Well, not speak, it was more like—”

“Like an echo in your mind,” You said, sitting up straight, “That… that was Mirren.”

He nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “She wasn’t anything like they told us she would be. She was so… kind, and gentle. She knew I was afraid, and she promised she wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t hurt her. And I was a 19 year old idiot who had a sword. I wasn’t going to try and kill a goddess. So I followed her, and she took me as far as she could without being seen. We barely spoke. But when she told me to keep going, because that was as far as she could go safely, I was so grateful. I… I never would have expected that kind of mercy and kindness from one of the gods, not after everything we were taught. And then twenty minutes later I got back to the wall and Minseok misfired.”

Yixing furrowed his eyebrows, staring at his hands in his lap. “That Chanyeol guy. He’s pretty much the only link between the human world and the forest, right?”

You nodded.

“So if he died or if Selyne died… the forest would lose its only possible bridge between the two. And that would make it harder for them to understand us, or to communicate easily.”

Again, you nodded. Yixing shrugged. “For us, that’s a good thing. The gods would have to communicate directly with us, and we could take them down when they’re vulnerable.”

You nodded, looking to the side and gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Why he felt the need to rub it in made no sense to you, why would he—

“Which is why it would be a shame if you were to escape.”

Your head snapped forward to look at him, eyes widening. He sighed, obviously nervous. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “It would be a shame if you were to overpower me and lock me in this room. An even bigger shame if you were to know that your bow and quiver are in the stables, and that the guards patrolling the east gate change shifts in about… fifteen minutes. A huge shame, really.” 

You just about stopped breathing, staring at him wordlessly. Yixing raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you going to do anything or do I have to knock myself out?”

“Why can’t you just say that I locked you in here?”

“What, you really think they’ll believe that?”

You stood up, shaking your head. He was right, but that didn’t make you feel any better about knocking Yixing’s lights out. “Thank you, Xing. I can never repay you.”

Yixing waved his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. If anything, this is me repaying my own debt.”

You sighed shakily, and Yixing stood up. “Please don’t hit me too hard,” He said. You smiled, and shook your head, before throwing up your fists. Before you could do anything, he held up his hands. “W-wait, wait.”

“What?”

“Kick Baekhyun’s ass,” He ordered, “His head’s been getting too big for his shoulders, anyway.”

You smiled sadly, before nodding. “I’ll try,” You answered, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Yixing shut his eyes, grimacing. “Do it.”

With one final deep breath, you swung at his temple, and Yixing fell to the floor. You checked to make sure he was knocked out cold, tapping his face slightly, and setting off when he didn’t come to. 

You changed into more suitable clothes to wear in combat, and slung on your snow boots and a dark blue cloak.

Before you left, you walked into the dining room, and looked towards the floor, before something glinting in the low sunlight caught your eye. Heart splintering, you picked up the necklace, and tucked it into your pocket.

This would have been so much easier if you’d been let out before the sun came up. You placed the hood of your cloak up, hiding your face and keeping your head down, hoping to not draw too much attention as you walked towards the stables. Thankfully, the path leading there was still relatively empty given that it was before ten. 

When you got to the stables, you found your bow and arrow hung on the wall, right next to Ivan’s stall. For a moment, you considered taking him with you, but decided against it. It would be too hard to sneak a reindeer out in broad daylight. You would simply have to run as fast as you could and hope that luck was on your side.

So you hid the weapons under your cloak, and made your way to the east gate, where, just as Yixing had said, the parapet atop it was empty. And once you had broken the lock, and were outside, you were gone. 

Immediately, you realized that the energy in the Spearwood was different. The air was crisper, seemingly even colder. If the forest had been quiet the first time you stepped into it, you could practically hear the sound of your blood rushing throughout your body. A few minutes into your walk, it began to snow, and you found yourself shivering already.

Once you were out of sight of the parapets, you removed your cloak briefly, placing the quiver and bow over it rather than under it for better access.

Being alone in the snow, with everything you knew now, filled you with an odd sense of nostalgia. If a month ago, someone had told you you would willingly march into the Spearwood to try and end the war, you definitely wouldn’t have expected this to be your course of actions, and you certainly would have expected to have different motives. 

You did your best to retrace your old steps, but the past 24 hours, the fact that it had been three weeks since you came this way, and the difference in lighting made it significantly harder. You walked for about forty minutes, cautious enough to listen for the footsteps of anyone who might have followed you from Ironbend.

And while eventually you did hear footsteps, they definitely weren’t from anyone you were expecting. The fast sound of paws thumping against the snow, racing at you from behind barely gave you time to turn and spot the giant mass of white fur bounding towards you. With a soft, “oomph!” you were tackled to the ground, tumbling a few times before finally landing on your back in the snow. You opened your eyes to meet a familiar gaze. 

We really have to stop meeting like this, y’know, Sehun declared as he stepped back, it’s weird.

“You’re the one that tackled me,” You argued, sitting up and brushing off the snow that was on your cloak. “What are you doing so far out of the inner circle?”

Sehun shook himself off, before staring at you seriously. Emergency patrol. Mama sensed danger. 

 “She was right,” You said with a nod, “Is she safe?”

Why would she be keeping herself safe? He sounded kind of exasperated. 

“Because she’s the target, Sehun. The three troops they brought out are looking for her.”

All of the playfulness in Sehun’s demeanor seemed to evaporate. Shit. Junmyeon knows where she is. Get on. I’m taking you to him.

You got on his back, and he huffed slightly at the new sensation of having to carry you. Sorry if it gets bumpy. I’m not really used to having people ride on my back... That’s usually Junmyeon’s job.

“Shut up, you overgrown spoiled baby,” You answered warmly, “It’s okay. As long as we get there in one piece.”

Did you get there in one piece? Kind of. You had to cling onto him and lower yourself to basically lie on his back. Otherwise you bounced too much and you risked falling off of him. The wind ripped your hood off, whipping your hair in the process and drying your eyes. 

He slowed down once he approached a clearing, where you could easily see the brown wolf standing in the white snow. He turned once he heard Sehun’s paws. When he noticed you, he seemed rather taken aback. 

Y/N? What are you doing here? Why did you even leave? He asked when you got off of Sehun.

“I needed to warn you. All of you. Selyne is in danger.”

She’s the warden of the forest, he pointed out, I think it’s an occupational hazard.

You sighed, annoyed at how willing the both of them had been to brush off your warnings so easily. “This is different. More than a hundred men are in the forest right now—all of them armed with guns, I might add—trying to find her, because they know that if she dies, Chanyeol loses his link to the forest and any hope for negotiation and bridging the spirit world and the human world is gone. You need to warn her, now.”

Junmyeon, evidently stunned speechless, looked between you and Sehun for a few seconds, before his gaze settled on you finally. We knew about the troops. We didn’t know about their plan. How did you find out? 

You pursed your lips. “My… I used to be close to their leader. He’s… the swordsman.”

Shit, Sehun swore. 

Fuck, Junmyeon agreed.

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes widened at the distant sound of the deep voice, turning your head to see Chanyeol, trudging through the snow. His eyes were wide, and when he recognized your face, he began walking faster. 

Of their own accord, your feet started moving in his direction. You ignored the voices of Sehun and Junmyeon trying to catch your attention. He sped up again, now making his best attempt to run to you, even though the snow passed his ankles. Your heart pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears, you sped up as well. As the distance lessened, you took in the familiar features. The pelt that kept him warm, the mask held back atop his dark hair, his cheeks streaked with blood he’d painted on, the round earrings dangling from his prominent ears.

Finally, he was within arms reach, and he reached out his arms the same way you did. His gaze was desperate, almost unbelieving that it was really you. The two of you collided, lips smashing against each other as his hands gripped you in several different places, like he was trying to make sure you were tangible. First at your waist, then your back, until finally, they gripped your face tenderly, calloused hands holding your face. Your hands wrapped around his neck, standing up straight to reach his lips. 

The state of catharsis his desperate kisses gave you confirmed it. You knew in your heart who you wanted. 

 When Chanyeol pulled away, you wiped away the snowflakes that had fallen on his cheeks and nose. “Y/N,” He murmured, “You came back.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

”I had to,” You said softly, nuzzling your nose against his cheek, “I needed to warn you about what’s coming.”

His face fell slightly when he heard your reasoning, but he didn’t step away. “Y/N, I… I shouldn’t have let you leave. A-and I shouldn’t have said those things I said. I was… scared. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, breaking away. “Right now, we can’t focus on that. I need you all to listen to me. I know what the troops are trying to do.” 

He nodded, eyes turning serious. “Come on,” He said, turning you to face the clearing. The two of you paused when you noticed the two other wolves sitting in the clearing, watching you bemusedly. 

I told you something happened, Jongin said to Kyungsoo, Now you owe me your next part of the hunt. 

Chanyeol scowled, and had this not been such a serious moment, you would have laughed. The two of you walked back over to the quartet, where you greeted them all properly. Not wasting any time, you went over the basics. How you’d been found by Baekhyun and taken back to Ironbend, what you told the Council in an attempt to get them to consider a truce, how you managed to escape. Baekhyun and his plan. The danger that Selyne was in, and by extension, the danger that Chanyeol was in. 

“She needs to hide, now,” You told them once you finished, “Chanyeol, you might need to hide, too.”

“I’m not going to hide,” He fired back. “This is my home. They’re threatening my mother. I’m not about to stand back and let them do it.” 

You stared at him, gripping his forearm. “Chanyeol, Baekhyun knows. He told me he would kill you.”

“And I’m telling you I’ll kill him.” Chanyeol’s eyes were wide, serious. “Y/N, I’m more expendable than Selyne is. If I die, it’s a major setback. If Selyne dies…”

It’s the beginning of the end for us, Kyungsoo completed, The magic of the forest will become unbalanced if it loses one of its Pillars. 

And if the magic of the forest becomes unbalanced, we lose our strongest wall of defense, Junmyeon agreed. It’s our job as our mother’s sons to lead in her place in moments when she can’t. One of those moments is now. Chanyeol has to fight.

You clenched your jaw. “Fine,” You bit out, “But someone needs to go warn Selyne, right now.” 

Chanyeol and I can go. Jongin, Kyungsoo, you both need to gather the other wolf packs. Call the bears as well, any other animals that can defend the forest. Foxes, coyotes, birds of prey, lynxes. Call the raccoons if you have to. This is life or death. Junmyeon straightened his posture. Sehun, you show Y/N how far the troops have gone. Stay hidden. Let’s rendezvous in an hour and wait for Kyungsoo and Jongin with the reinforcements.

  We’ll go as fast as we can, Jongin said, before turning to Kyungsoo. Let’s go. 

Sehun lifted his head to gaze at you. You heard him. Get on.

You nodded, turning to Chanyeol, who was about to get onto Junmyeon. “Wait.”

Chanyeol’s eyes softened as you approached him, reaching into your pocket. You tucked the necklace into the palm of his hand, closing his fist around it. “Be careful,” You begged him, “I didn’t betray an entire village just for you to get yourself killed.”

He gave a soft smile, his other hand grasping yours. “I’ll come back to you,” He promised. You peered into his eyes, wanting to say so many things.

Gross, Sehun interrupted, and Chanyeol’s smile disappeared immediately. “Don’t be a dick.”

He’s Sehun, Junmyeon mumbled, giving something akin to an eyeroll, Kind of impossible for him not to be. Now come on, we need to go now.

Chanyeol offered you one small, final smile, before he and Junmyeon sped off. 

You turned to Sehun, getting on his back. “Is it that hard for you to not be an asshole?” You asked, tone warm and teasing.

You all love me anyway, he replied. His cheekiness was not missed. The two of you took off immediately afterwards. You remembered to lower yourself and stay close to his back. Sehun explained that the magic of the forest was affecting the troops, leading them on the wrong path.

They’ve been going in circles for about two hours now, Sehun snickered, But we can’t just let them trample through the forest without teaching them a lesson. 

“Be careful once we get closer to their location,” You said into his ear, “They’ll probably have scouts patrolling within a few hundred meters of their formation on all sides.”

I’ll keep that in mind. 

The pair of you slowed to a walk, and you got off of him, pulling out your bow and nocking an arrow out of caution. Silence reigned over the forest, making the sounds of your boots crunching in the snow cringeworthy and deafening. The two of you were nearing the top of a hill, approaching its steep summit. As you approached it, the sound of stomping and snow crunching became louder and louder. You swallowed the lump in your throat, slowing significantly.

You stopped at the sound of a familiar shout. The boom of the voice actually made Sehun’s ears lower, the wolf flinching at the noise.

“Regroup!” Jongdae yelled, “We’ll stop for ten minutes.” 

You stared at Sehun, who in turn gazed at you before cocking his head at a large boulder that should give you both some cover. Slowly, as quietly as possible, you both approached the snow cap rock, before Sehun peeked over the edge of the rock. 

They’re at the base of the hill. If you’re gonna come over here, be careful. 

You leaned over the side of the rock, releasing the tension in the string of your bow. 

120 sounded like a lot of men, you realized, but the visual was somewhat underwhelming. They easily fit in the large clearing at the base of the hill. Seeing them all huddled together in the cold brought you an odd sense of comfort. 

Seeing Byun Baekhyun and his two lackeys had the opposite effect.

Baekhyun, Minseok and Jongdae were excellent military strategists. They were better than you, that was for sure, and you came from a long line of military leaders. They worked even better when the three of them worked together. In previous campaigns in other places, they’d done great damage with even smaller troops. You knew damn well that they would turn this relatively small group into a well oiled killing machine, and use each man to the best of their ability.

Still, you knew they had some weaknesses in their formations. Every formation did. They were very susceptible to being attacked from the back. It would catch them off guard very easily. 

What are you thinking? Sehun asked.

“They can be very vulnerable from the back,” You whispered, “This is their standard formation. I doubt they’ll change it now that they’re this deep—takes too much time, lowers their guard. See the back line? Those are the reserves. They’re generally the strongest men, but they’re more spread out. That’s where Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok are, also—their leaders. The ones meant to be fodder are generally put on the front line.”

That’s… interesting. But an attack from the back would mean taking out a small group of strong opponents, and then fighting a larger group. That’s… not ideal. We would tire ourselves out.

“There are bound to be more than 120 animals in the forest willing to defend it,” You pointed out. “They’re used to combat at a distance, especially with the shoulder guns. If we can approach them and overwhelm them, we might just be able to get them to retreat.” 

You watched as Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok had a quiet discussion between the three of them, Jongdae’s hands gesturing wildly. 

“Jackasses,” You grumbled, before stepping back safely behind the boulder. “Have we seen enough?” 

I think so. It looks like they’re going to keep heading west. Which is good. Mama’s den is east. Let’s get back to the rendezvous point. 

You nodded, exhaling softly. You stole one last glance at Baekhyun before you and Sehun trudged down the hill, putting some distance between the troops and you both before you mounted the wolf and broke out into a run. You kept your eyes open as he ran, hoping the winds would dry the tears in your eyes.

You were the first ones back in the clearing. 

“You’re sure we’re in the right place, right?” You asked, just to be sure. Sehun sat, shaking some snowflakes off of his snout. This is where the pack scent is strongest, and I can still see the tracks from where we all split up, so yes. And look, that’s where you and Chanyeol… swapped spit.

“And you say Chanyeol and I are the gross ones.”

Sehun laughed. Well, that’s what it looked like! Human displays of affection are so odd. At first I thought you were trying to eat each other.

You shook your head. “No. Not at all,” You answered with a laugh, “It’s actually—”

Sehun’s head turned, ears perking up. Your speech died in your mouth, watching as a few seconds later, Chanyeol and Junmyeon came into view. They made their way into the clearing, and stopped right in front of you. Chanyeol slid off of Junmyeon’s back, stretching his legs when he did.

It took her some convincing, but Mother is safe. She’s in one of her secret dens, just in case. 

You sighed in relief. “Good.”

We also found Beval and Emyr on our way there. We made sure to warn them.

Well, what did they say? Sehun asked.

Beval is rounding up the birds of prey as we speak. He’s also sending them some heavy snowfall and winds—he called it a welcome gift.

You smiled as the remark before Junmyeon continued. Emyr is rounding up the deer, and he’s sent out a message to any smaller animals to stay in their dens. The deer will be joining us, but they’ll stay at a distance so they can treat the injured.  

“Selyne sends her blessing,” Chanyeol added, looking at you.  “She also wanted me to return this to you.”

Chanyeol stretched out his hand, holding out a familiar black sheath with a leather band. The silver guards and the pommel of the sword seemed to glow in the daylight.

 “So that’s where that went,” You mumbled, more to yourself. You looked up at Chanyeol after you had grabbed the sword. “Thank you.”

He waved his hand. “This is important.”

So, what now? Sehun asked, Wait for the reinforcements?

I suppose so, Junmyeon answered, before eyeing you and Chanyeol. He turned to face Sehun. Mother actually wanted me to talk to you about something. Come on, let’s go. 

What on earth could she want you to nag me for at a time like this? I—

Junmyeon bared his teeth, growling in a move that surprised the three of you Sehun’s words died abruptly. Sehun, he hissed, eyes darting between the youngest wolf, and you and Chanyeol, Come on. 

...Oh. Oh! Okay. Yeah. It’s probably that… thing I was talking about with her yesterday. Okay, yeah, let’s go.

The two wolves stalked off, Junmyeon nagging the entire time.

You looked up at Chanyeol, before tying the leather band securely around your waist. “Alright, we have some time to kill. Do… do you wanna talk about that night?”

Chanyeol slumped forward, looking downwards. When he looked back up, he nodded. You leaned against a tree, crossing your arms.

“I was an ass,” Chanyeol admitted. “I was unfair to you. But… I don’t know, Y/N. I’m just… I was terrified. I’ve never felt so vulnerable with someone else, before.”

“Chanyeol…”

“I love you. I don’t—I don’t know when or how it happened. And I was so angry when I didn’t go after you. And then when I finally did, it was too late. We didn’t find you. I just… lost it kind of.”

He showed you his right hand, where the knuckles were bruised and cut.

“What did you even do, punch a tree?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.  

He pursed his lips, ears turning red. “Well…”

You bit back a laugh, and tried hard to hold back the smile trying to break onto your face. 

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut up,” He huffed, trying to hold back his own smile now.

“You’re… you’re really something,” You said. Chanyeol shrugged and his face fell again.

“I fucked up. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you away,” You countered, “I was scared, too. Terrified. But after everything that’s happened since then, I know what I want. I want to stay here, with you, and I want to protect this place.”

“Y-you’re gonna stay?”

You looked down, shutting your eyes. You thought over the life you’d had in Ironbend, all of the friends and family you’d ever known. All of them united under one cause, and here you were, about to throw it all away. Guilt swam in your chest at the idea of having to consider them enemies.

“I want to be with you,” You hummed, grabbing his hand, “And if they knew about us, they would kill me.”

His hand squeezed yours. “I’m not going to let them.”

You smiled sadly. “I’m not going to let them hurt you, either.”

He opened his mouth to say something, when the sound of rustling in the distance caused him to turn his head. Instantly, the two of you reached for your weapons.

It’s them, Sehun called, running back into the clearing. It’s time.

You looked at Chanyeol, who squeezed your hand again. “Let’s do this.”

This would have been a lot faster had it been summer. So many animals were hibernating, and while there were still more animals than there were humans, you still wondered whether or not it would be enough. These animals didn’t have the types of weapons that the humans did, save for your sword, bow and arrow, and Chanyeol’s dagger. 

A total of 361 animals showed up. Chanyeol’s four brothers, and a total of 97 wolves from different packs scattered throughout the Spearwood, for a total of 101 wolves. It made sense to you that the majority of animals would be wolves, given that Selyne was the one that was threatened the most. Other troops included 51 birds of prey, 46 foxes, 29 coyotes, 32 bears, 55 deer, 19 raccoons, 11 lynxes and surprisingly enough, 17 squirrels. 

You weren’t sure whether to be surprised by the fact that squirrels had decided to show up or that the vast majority of them—along with the raccoons—came armed with relatively large jagged rocks to throw at the small army. 

At first, the animals were skeptical of your plan. You didn’t blame them. A human, a foreigner, trying to lead them into battle? It didn’t sound safe.

The plan was simple enough. Wait until the troops reached one of the streams, so that it would be difficult for them to cross. Start an aerial attack with the birds of prey, the squirrels and the raccoons, then the front line of animals would attack the back line. The second, third and fourth lines would attack all around, and eventually the lines would open up towards the north, in an effort to push them back. The deer would be waiting past the stream, out of sight, waiting to work on the injured with their magic. You made sure to explain to them how the guns worked, and what needed to be done to heal the wounds. 

The troops would be given a wide berth on all sides. The signals to attack would be given via howls, or in the case of the birds of prey, a screech.

Each wolf would be leading from a different direction. Junmyeon would be leading the front line with Chanyeol. Jongin would lead the second line, Kyungsoo the third, and Sehun the fourth lines. 

You would be on the front line as well. As the groups separated, the forest seemed to fill with fog. You followed Junmyeon and Chanyeol, who were following the scent of the human troops as they led your group of about 50 or so animals. The only sound you could hear was the sound of snow crunching beneath you. You could barely see anything as the fog hanging overhead seemed to seep into the forest the closer and closer you got. You tried desperately not to think of your dream. 

The wind blew harder as well, whipping your hair every which way, drying your eyes. Snow fell even heavier. It became slightly harder to trudge through it.

As your group came to its waiting point, one of the birds—a hawk, you saw—flew overhead before flying back up into the fog overhead. That was the signal to stop and wait.

Junmyeon stopped, turning back to the group. Chanyeol held his hand up, signalling for everyone to stop and wait. 

You couldn’t see the troops yet, but you knew that they weren’t too far away. The dense treeline simply made it difficult to see anything that wasn’t a hundred meters away. All you could do now was wait. Your eyes met Chanyeol’s for a second, and he flashed you a soft smile. You looked him once over, your heart doing a backflip when it saw the opal necklace resting against his shirt.

“Be safe,” He mouthed at you, and you nodded as he pulled down his mask. 

“You, too.”

The silence of the forest was shattered by a gunshot. You both turned to face the direction the sound was coming from, which was straight ahead. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, flexing your fingers. Your fingertips were numb from the cold. A second gunshot echoed through the forest, your stomach began to sink.

Gripping your bow, you tried to recall how many bows you had in your quiver. 35, 36? No more than 37, that was for sure.

Y/N, You heard Junmyeon say, flinching when a third gunshot came. You nodded once in his direction. Get on. Chanyeol will get off once we’re close enough. Your bow won’t work up close. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, approaching them slowly. “We’re not too heavy?”

It’ll be fine, the wolf huffed, Just don’t take too much time with those arrows.

“Got it,” You answered, getting on, right behind Chanyeol. You made a mental note to suggest a saddle for them—if they knew what a saddle was, anyway. 

“Hold on to me,” Chanyeol murmured, “Don’t pull out your bow until I say so.”

You nodded. “Be careful. Both of you.” 

A fourth gunshot sounded, and you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“I’m gonna kiss you so hard when this is over,” Chanyeol whispered.

Gods, Sehun’s right, Junmyeon grumbled, You two are disgus—

A shrieking noise rang across the forest, and all of the hairs stood up on your body as you registered as the sound of a hawk’s screeching.

Now! Junmyeon yelled, beginning to charge forward, all of the other animals running behind you.

“Wait for my signal,” Chanyeol told you, “Stay alert.”

You didn’t reply, too focused on thinking about what was about to happen. As Junmyeon and the other animals weaved through the trees, you began to see something in the distance, barely outlined in the fog. Two more gunshots sounded, sparks glowing for a split second in the mist, perfectly giving away their location. 

They were closer now. You could hear murmuring, shouting. The sound of running water, albeit a bit softer than the voices. Any second now, they would hear you.

“Now!” Chanyeol told you, as a large, dark mass came into view, slightly blurred by the fog. You pulled away from Chanyeol, pulling off your bow and nocking an arrow quickly.

“What is that noise!?” You heard a voice yell. You couldn’t recognize who it was.

“STAND FIRM!” A loud voice ordered. Jongdae. 

A single figure burst into view, and you knew it had to be a scout. The young man turned, and his eyes widened when he spotted you, grimacing as you aimed your arrow at him. 

His mouth opened wide, and he began to screech, “From the nor—!”

Your arrow pierced his chest, and you forced yourself to look away as he fell to the ground.

“The north!” You heard Baekhyun say, “FACE NORTH! NOW!”

You pulled out another arrow and nocked it as well, just as the troops appeared in your line of vision. You spotted Baekhyun almost immediately, but couldn’t bring yourself to aim directly at him. Instead, as the animals charged, you let it fly into someone right behind him, hitting the man straight in the eye. The arrow whizzed past Baekhyun’s head. His eyes widened momentarily when he saw you on top of the wolf, sitting behind Chanyeol’s familiar face, before it twisted into a hateful sneer. 

“Attack!” He cried, “Fire, NOW!”

The first gunshots were fired, thick rocks still raining down on the men, hawks and eagles swooping down to claw at their faces. 

As Junmyeon turned, he slowed down enough for Chanyeol to jump off. The man pulled out his dagger, charging straight for a soldier of similar stature. 

Your turn, Y/N, Junmyeon said, You run out of arrows and I’ll call in the second line. 

“On it!” You answered, aiming another arrow. 

The two of you made an unlikely duo, working surprisingly well. Junmyeon knew to run slightly away from the fighting, because up close your arrows wouldn’t be much help. Running parallel to the front line, you fired arrow after arrow into the crowd. You even managed to get him to dodge a few bullets. One grazed his side, causing him to yelp, and you countered by sending your arrow into the neck of the man who shot at him. 

Truthfully, you tried not to aim at the people you knew. It was too difficult, seeing their shock and the look of betrayal cross their faces for a split second before you fired your arrow. But that was difficult, because everyone knew you, the same way they knew their father. 

You couldn’t imagine what they must have been thinking, to see someone who they thought would become their leader in the future fighting alongside their supposed enemies. 

All around you, chaos reigned. The rock flinging had slowed down, but birds were still diving down to attack men at random. The men at the other side of the troops were trying to spread out, to extend the front line, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. In the distance you watched two men try to fend off a grizzly bear. You had to turn your attention elsewhere, but from the looks of it, they weren’t winning.

Soon enough, you were down to your last arrow. Which, in a way, was good, because you could tell Junmyeon was beginning to slow down. The sooner he had less weight to carry, the better.

Do you see Chanyeol? Junmyeon asked, and your eyes scanned the front line, stopping when they landed on Chanyeol fighting hand to hand with a soldier. He was on the other side of the battlefield. “I see him,” You answered, “Junmyeon, let me off now and call in the second line!”

What about you? He asked as you slid off his back, firing your final arrow into a man aiming at a bar, cringing when you recognized him as the baker’s son. “I’ll be fine,” You insisted, slinging your bow across your chest, before pulling out your sword, “Just call them, now!”

Taking off before he could answer, your legs set off. As you ran, you assessed the damage. Some animals lay injured or dying, others running off as they got injured, probably to circle around to the deer.

Your breath puffed out as you made your way towards Chanyeol. You heard people call your name, some even calling out for help, but you refused to spare them any glances. You wondered if they had seen you charging in… they probably hadn’t.

When you were about fifty meters from Chanyeol, someone stepped in front of you. Looking up to meet their eyes, you saw Minseok, holding his spear up and eyeing you defensively. 

“Get out of here and they might just let you live,” He grunted. You held your sword out, eyeing the movements of his right arm. 

“As if you would let the gods live,” You quipped, “In the grand scheme of things, I’m no one.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to have to do this.” His voice was shaky, glancing to the side to avoid your eyes. “We’ve been friends for years, I would never forgive myself if I had to—”

Thwap! You turned the blade so that when you hit him with it, the flat end hit the side of his head. The edge still drew some blood, though, and Minseok stumbled back, giving you just enough time to lift your leg, kicking him square in the chest. He stumbled back even further before falling to the ground, breathless. You hopped closer, hoping to knock him unconscious without hurting him too much.

Looking at him, your heart ached. As you lumbered over him, grabbing the collar of his shirt, you frowned. “I’m sorry,” You murmured, before knocking his head into the ground once, twice, three times, until his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

You had no time to check whether or not he was still breathing, instead standing straight up and taking a deep breath before starting to run again. As you did, you heard Junmyeon’s howl echo across the forest. Weaving through the trees, you knew more help would be here soon. 

And it did, the second line appearing towards the south within a matter of seconds, sandwiching the troops between two groups of animals. As you got closer to Chanyeol, you felt something pull you back by the cloak, letting out a yelp as you fell to the ground. You fell on your butt, pain traveling up your back. Looking back to see what had snagged your cloak, you watched as Baekhyun ran past you in an attempt to get to Chanyeol, who had his back turned as he fought off another man. Baekhyun didn’t so much as spare you a glance.

You stumbled to your feet, eyes widening as you watched Baekhyun pull out his sword. Your feet somehow seemed to fly across the snow, your body going into overdrive. You’d seen this strategy before. Someone would distract the target, only for Baekhyun to come in and strike them down from behind.

You knew what would happen if you didn’t stop it. Slowing down for only a moment, you picked up a large rock that had to have hit some poor man in the head. Not even hesitating, you chucked the bloody rock at Baekhyun’s feet, causing him to stumble. 

That gave you the advantage, making a beeline in front of him, practically back to back to Chanyeol. Your smaller sword met Baekhyun’s with a loud clang, the look on his face turning incredulous when he saw that it was you. 

Baekhyun had always been a better swordsman. Every time you had asked him to help you train, it always ended with him pinning you down. But right now, you couldn’t afford to lose. You simply couldn’t.

“You just had to come and ruin everything,” He grunted, countering with a parry. You blocked it, your swords sliding against each other. You pushed him back, breathing heavily. 

“I’m not gonna let you destroy this place,” You answered. He let out a scoff.

“What are you gonna do, huh? You never miss a shot,” Baekhyun growled, “And yet you missed me. What is it, honey, still got a soft spot for me?” 

Your swords met again, your arms buckling with the strain. You couldn’t meet his eyes, you realized as your eyes filled with tears.

“We have you outnumbered. Call off the attack now,” You pleaded, sounding too desperate for your own good, “It’s not too late, Baek—”

“Oh, darling, I’m not stopping, not until I destroy all of it. Not if I have to burn—” His sword slashed forward, barely missing you as he roared, “—The entire Spearwood to the ground, not if I have to burn down all of Ironbend to get rid of every piece of fucking vermin in this place.”

You stepped forward, tears burning your dry eyes, and that was your mistake. In your attempt to parry, he sidestepped you, knocking you to the ground with a harsh shove. Your blade fell out of your hand, landing in the snow.

As you fell to the ground, you met Baekhyun’s gaze for the first time since your swords clashed. You were surprised to find tears streaking down his face, as well. His eyes looked like that of a wild animal, bewildered and desperate as he lifted his sword, ready to come down at you.

“And if I have to kill you too, my love?” He let out a single humorless laugh, a sad, cold smile gracing his beautifully twisted features, “So be it.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut as his sword began to fall, curling into yourself as you did. You didn’t want your last sight of the man you once loved to be this distorted image of him, drunk on the pursuit of power. All you wanted was the end.

Only, the end never came. Not in the way you expected it to, at least. Because a split second later, you heard Baekhyun gasp, and a deep, guttural groan came from above you. 

Your eyes snapped open, face contorting into an expression of horror as you saw the tip of Baekhyun’s sword peeking out of Chanyeol’s back, dripping blood. You watched as Chanyeol lurched forward, Baekhyun pulling off the mask, glaring up at his long lost brother with what you could only describe as bitter rage.

“You look just like the old man,” He muttered spitefully, “Go figure.”

Chanyeol didn’t answer, groaning out before coughing. Blood spilled from his lips. 

Your heart began to pound, and all of the noise around you seemed to fade into nothingness. All you could focus on was the blood staining Chanyeol’s tattered shirt a dark red, dripping onto your pants and his white pelt. The only noise you could hear was your own labored breathing and your blood roaring in your ears, not feeling the trembling in your necrotic arm.

You barely even registered the ear shattering wail that echoed across the battlefield, inky black tearing at your skin as they branched out everywhere. Your eyes rolled up back into your head, your body convulsing. 

You didn’t see the way they wrapped around every being within a thirty meter radius, squeezing with a vengeance. You didn’t see the way the wolves, who were on the other side of the battlefield stopped in awe to watch as you attempted to destroy everything in your path. You didn’t see Baekhyun get ripped away from Chanyeol, getting lifted some ten feet into the air as his eyes widened in terror, because he had only ever seen you hold back one of these fits. You didn’t see the few men who weren’t in your grip freeze, only able to watch as men and animals alike struggled to free themselves from you. 

You didn’t see. But Chanyeol did. He watched as all of this happened in less than ten seconds, before one tendril pulled out the sword, causing him to tumble to the ground right next to you. He fell to his hands and knees, wheezing and spitting out more blood that fell from his mouth.

When he managed to register what was going on, he crawled over to you, one hand pressing down on a rapidly bleeding stab wound he couldn’t even feel due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. He watched as your hand bent back and forth, contorting impossibly. Cringing at the sound of the cracking bones and your incessant screaming, he leaned over you and reached out his free hand. 

If this didn’t stop, you would kill everyone and everything in your grip and get yourself killed in the process. He grabbed your free hand with all the strength he could muster, trying to ignore the stiffness in your joints. His fingers tried to get your own fingers to grip the opal on your necklace, but nothing happened. 

“Please,” He wheezed, “Please, Y/N.”

With your cries ringing in his ears, he ripped his hand from the stab wound and touched your necklace, staining your neck red as he did, before bringing your hand to his neck, from where a second opal was dangling. His necklace, the one you had returned to him only an hour or so prior.

He coughed, cringing again as blood splattered across your face. “I’ve got you,” He croaked, “That—that night, when you asked me to make it stop, Y/N, I’m—I’m here, I’m trying. Please.”

Your screaming began to quiet, and his voice dropped to a panicked whisper. “Pl—please, Y/N. Please.”

He knew it must have taken less than a few seconds, but it truly did seem like an eternity to him. The tendrils recoiled back into your arm, letting go of all of the creatures you’d had in your grip. Baekhyun fell into the snow a few feet away from you, the wind knocked out of him. Your screaming stopped, and your bones snapped into place, but your sobs didn’t stop, not as your body wracked with pain as the aftershocks kicked in. 

The shock wore off on the remaining men within a minute or so, most of them beginning to flee north, dropping their weapons as they went. Jongdae came forward, already having guided an unconscious Minseok onto his reindeer. “Baekhyun, we have to go now.”

Baekhyun looked up, breathing unevenly. “No, not before I kill h—”

“There’s no time!” Jongdae barked hurriedly. “He’s gonna die anyway, look at what you did to him. And the more you stay, especially after everyone heard what you said about burning Ironbend to the ground, the worse it’s gonna be for you. So get on the damn reindeer, now.” 

Baekhyun faltered, sneering before hurrying onto the reindeer. Your eyes cracked open as Jongdae got on the third reindeer, and they rode off north, presumably to lick their wounds and try and explain everything to the council.

You looked up, just as Chanyeol toppled over on top of you. You ignored the screaming in your arms and the tension in your jaw as you rolled the pair of you over, eyes brimming with tears again when the smell of blood hit your nose. 

He looked so pale, beneath you. Your hands pulled his head gently onto your lap, before one of them began cradling his head. The other tried desperately to press down on the wound, but the stiffness in your arms didn’t help much.

“You can’t die like this,” You whispered hoarsely, “I just came back.”

He managed to quip a smile. “You’ll be alright,” He crooned, one hand limply. “It’s—it’s your turn now, to ride with my br—my brothers.”

“No,” You begged.

Chanyeol! You both turned your heads as the four brothers in question ran up to the both of you.

“Hey,” Chanyeol murmured, as if he wasn’t bleeding out beneath you, “That wasn’t... very fun. I… I don’t wanna do that again.”

You idiot, Junmyeon said, voice trembling, the usual chastising tone he had now empty. What’s mother gonna say when she finds out you went and got yourself killed?

You can’t die, you ass, Sehun added. You can’t.

He’s not going to. 

Your head snapped up, just in time to watch two figures leap into view, a third lumbering behind them, a fourth flying overhead. Quickly, just as everyone else registered that it was the gods, your head bowed in respect.

Beval landed on a branch overhead, the fog clearing. Selyne and Emyr stopped before you, as Mirren began to round up the remaining animals, directing them across the stream.

Chanyeol, Selyne murmured, tone anxious. You never would have expected that from her. What have you done?

“What I had to do to keep you all safe,” He answered, meeting the she-wolf’s gaze. His eyes moved to look at Emyr. 

“My king. I’m sorry for all the loss the forest has felt today.”

Emyr shook his head.  It will mourn, but it will forever be grateful for the sacrifice you all made to keep it safe. We will honor you. Heroes, all of you.

You were trembling as you kept your head down, trying to memorize each corner of his face. Every mole, every blemish, every eyelash.

Even you, Y/N.

Your head snapped up, meeting the gaze of the deer god with your tearful eyes. “Th-thank you, great king,” You replied, “But we only did what was right.”

Indeed. But I do believe you deserve more than honor. You’ve sacrificed much. Daresay, I think you’ve proved yourself to me and to the forest.

You didn’t know why your heart sank. Despite this being what you set out to do, you didn’t feel victorious. “Oh,” You murmured, unsure what to say as Chanyeol shifted his head below you.

Oh? Selyne quipped, You’re being bestowed a gift by a god and that’s all you can say?

“I don’t want it,” You blurted, more tears running down your face. You couldn’t control your mouth even if you wanted to, shaking your head. All you could do was weep and stare down at Chanyeol. The light in his eyes seemed to be getting dimmer. “Give it to him, please. He’s done more for this forest than I ever could. Please heal him, my king, please.”

Fascinating. You would allow yourself to die if it meant that Chanyeol would live?

“Y/N, don’t do this,” Chanyeol whispered. You shook your head at him, before nodding at Emyr. 

“Yes, absolutely, yes. Without a doubt. Please don’t let him die.”

What would happen to us if I, as the king of this forest, simply allowed all of my subjects to live in their time of dying? Maybe this is for the best, child. This is his fate.

“No, I can’t let that happen!”

Why not?

“Because I love him. Please, please don’t let him die.”

Emyr stared at you for a long time. Until finally, he gave you the closest thing a deer could give to a smile. Very well, he agreed. You’ve learned, girl. You’ve let go of your pride and you have sacrificed everything you previously had for our home. I will heal him… and I will heal you, as well. You’ve earned it. Both of you.

You sighed in relief, slumping over Chanyeol. The deer god approached you both, before pressing something akin to a kiss on your forehead, and then doing the same thing to Chanyeol’s hand. 

 For a moment, nothing happened. But then, your body seemed to sing as it jumped into the air of its own accord, Chanyeol right next to you. You watched as the wound began to close, before you felt the sensation of a weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Your eyes moved to your arm, watching as it returned to its natural color, the scars of the bite Sehun had given you fading. 

You landed on your feet, managing to catch Chanyeol before he fell to the ground. He groaned, slinging his arm around your shoulder. 

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” He admitted, “But I’ll live.” 

He faced Emyr. “Thank you, my king. I can never fully repay you for what you’ve done.”

So long as you continue to protect us as you have all your life, consider your debt repaid. 

You bowed your own head in respect. “Thank you. I promise to protect the forest until the day I die.” 

I never would have expected it to end this way, Selyne said. I never thought I would thank you for saving my son and protecting me.

You looked at Chanyeol, who smiled weakly at you.

Um, I hate to ruin the mood, Kyungsoo mumbled, But they didn’t actually surrender. They retreated. They’ll be back. What’ll we do then?

Your smile faded, heaving a deep sigh. Baekhyun was still out there, currently on his way back to Ironbend—but he wouldn’t get off easily for essentially leading 120 men on what as basically a suicide mission and getting more than half of them killed. And he would definitely get in trouble for what he told you about being willing to burn Ironbend to the ground. 

With luck, this would mean severe consequences for him. His reputation would likely suffer, and he might even get booted from the council. But now that you were gone, who was left to govern after your father passed away? You could only hope someone like Yixing would pass on to lead. 

Truthfully, you weren’t sure how to answer. But in your silence, Chanyeol spoke up, reaching for one of your hands and squeezing it tightly.

“We’ll be alright,” He said, “Come what may—we’ll be alright.” 

taglist: @delightpcy​ @chanyeolscoon​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @imsoba​ @chogiwhy127​ @always-wishing-for-rain @riajae​

#exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo au #exo angst #exo smut #exo fluff #byun baekhyun x reader #park chanyeol x reader #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun angst #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fluff #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop imagines #my writing

[lassieposting]

Bit late and random but it's the anon you leave food out for here to give away I am also bi and I think exactly the same as you about bi val pretty much, every time Derek offers me representation my reaction is to slowly, hesitantly take it and say "thaaaaaaaaanks..." while rolling my eyes, in much the same way one accepts their least favourite flavour of sweet from an annoyingly enthusiastic uncle-type-individual. Ironically I feel I had more in common with her before the bi shit started up.

What I find really amusing is that Landy actually did reasonably well at representation when (and only when) he wasn’t trying. 

Oh god, this got long, anon, my ass rambled.

tldr; I'm glad actual bi people dislike bi val (or how Laundry handled bi val) as much as me, this will probably offend at least one person but i don't really care, Dirty Laundry wrote better rep when he didn't mean to write rep at all, and if he ever starts trying to "represent" groups I'm part of I'll take him out back like a dying horse and shoot him.

Like, yes. He had stupid and potentially offensive shit - I say potentially because what offends one member of a group won’t necessarily offend all of them. His attitude to mentally ill people is, frankly, disgusting. We’ve had “Skulduggery can’t be abused, he doesn’t have feelings”. We’ve had “eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY”. We had Ping, who seemed to be pretty much universally offensive. And that's what's always going to happen when a straight, cis, white, wealthy, male author tries to write marginalised groups he doesn't know shit about, because inevitably he's going to fall back on stereotypes.

But we also had:

SEXUALITY REP: Phase One's nonstraight characters were treated like the straight ones, and like, isn't that the whole point? There was no need for a massive Coming Out Story TM to grab for those sweet sweet Woke Points, because sexuality isn't supposed to be important to mages. I never understood why Val needed that whole Coming Out Panic storyline. Like...Des and Melissa are ridiculously supportive, encouraging, loving parents. They accepted you dating a ~19 year old when you were ~16. They accepted you revealing you could do fucking magic and that you'd been lying to them for like seven years. They took your undead buddy in stride and the most pressing question your dad had was whether magic toilets exist. There is zero reason to think that "I'm bisexual" is gonna be the thing that makes them flip and throw you into the streets in disgrace, Valkyrie. Come on.

Tanith had girlfriends and it was just mentioned casually, because it's normal.

China had massive UST with Eliza. That was an opportunity right there to not only include a f/f relationship, but also to bring back one of the few precious surviving characters from Phase One, using characters and a relationship that already had several books' worth of setup and tension and interest from fans.

The Monster Hunters have a casual conversation about which one of the Dead Men they'd date.

Ghastly has a conversation with Fletcher about the pain he's been through being in love. He never uses any pronouns.

It was confirmed at one point re: the Dead Men that at this point, after 300-odd years, everyone's been with everyone else at some point.

Thrasher is gay, and while Scapegrace's...everything...is treated as a joke/comedic relief, Thrasher's love for him isn't. He's completely devoted to Scapegrace, and that in itself is not played for laughs, even though the rest of the scene usually is. Thrasher's description of their first meeting is essentially a love-at-first-sight situation for him.

"ABNORMAL" RELATIONSHIP REP: Age gap relationships are normal for mages. Off the top of my head, using only canon, canon-implied or almost-canon ships:

Ghastly/Tanith (~350 year age difference)

Tanith/Sanguine (~250+ year age difference)

Tanith/Saracen (~350 year age difference)

Caisson/Solace (~250 year age difference)

China/Gordon (~400 year age difference)

Kierre/Temper (~500+ year age difference)

If you include fan ships, there's also things like Mevolent/Serpine or my Mevolent/Vile, which are both ~600 year minimum age gaps based on the timeline, or Valdug (and its variations) which is ~400 years.

Now, whether you consider this kind of rep positive or negative is up to you, but it’s there.

MENTAL ILLNESS REP: more like "Which characters in this series don't have a mental illness or a personality disorder?" I have some of these issues, but not all of them, so this is just how I read it, but:

ADHD: Skulduggery

Dissociative Identity Disorder: Skulduggery & Vile

Dissociation: Skulduggery again, most notably in DD and DB

Schizophrenia (or similar): Valkyrie & Darquesse, Valkyrie "seeing" Darquesse's ghost thing in Phase Two

Impostor Syndrome: Reflectionie

Autism: Clarabelle

Trauma/PTSD/CPTSD: Skulduggery, Valkyrie, China, Ghastly, Erskine...pretty much everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. People struggling with trauma are spoilt for choice of characters to see themselves in.

TRAUMA REP: This series is a trauma conga line, but everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. I see little bits of myself in more than one Phase One character.

Childhood Abuse (of varying degrees & types): Skulduggery, Carol & Crystal, Omen, Fletcher, Ghastly, China, Bliss, Sanguine...

Estranged Family: Skulduggery abandoning his crest, Fergus & Gordon, China & Bliss

Bad Romantic Relationship: Skulduggery is also very clearly an abuse victim. He’s got a solid history of romantic attachments to women who manipulate, use and gaslight him for their own agendas.  There's a whole paragraph in SPX about how Abyssinia broke him down, isolated him from his friends and preyed on his desperate need to be loved, all classic abuse tactics.

And I’m personally a huge fan of this backstory for two reasons:

1) Society likes a plucky victim in media. The "My suffering made me stronger" type of victim. And it's not always like that in real life. Not all survivors come out of their abuse stronger or kinder or more understanding. Some of us come out cold and fucked up. Some of us end up as emotionally stunted, bloodied-nails-and-bared-teeth survivors, broken in ways that can't be fixed and sustained by enough rage to power a small sun. But society doesn't like to tell the story of that kind of survivor, because we're not usually a likeable protagonist. When we're shown in media, we're usually the sympathetic villain, or maybe the antihero. But Skug is someone who's done awful things and lost pretty much all his faith in humanity and been burned more times than he can count, and he still makes the conscious choice to try and be the good guy when he could so easily go Evil Supervillain on the world, and I don't know about any of y'all, but I've modelled myself on him in that. I've made the choice to do something good when all I really want to do is just become a horrible, shrivelled ball of nastiness and revenge. And that's because I saw him do it and realised that I could do that too.

Skug is an incredibly capable, strong, masculine Man's Man. He gets in fights all the time, and he usually wins. He's military, an industry that's Really Bad for stigmatizing weakness and mental illness, and he's right up at the top of the hierarchy. Almost everyone is afraid of him. He's a straight up cold-blooded killer. Skulduggery Pleasant is precisely the type of person who's not normally portrayed as a victim of anything. Nothing about him screams "victim" at all. But his abuse history is insidious. He's so conditioned to respond in a certain way to abuse from the women in his life, probably from a very young age, that despite all that strength and capability and stubbornness and ego, he just goes along with it. And it's an established pattern going back hundreds of years. He keeps going back to China, even though he knows she's bad for him and his friends keep telling him to stay away from her. Abyssinia latched onto him when he was traumatized and vulnerable and weaponized it against him to make him easier to control - and when she reappears, hundreds of years later, she jumps straight back into using, tmanipulating and gaslighting him and not only does he let her, he doesn't even seem to realise that behaviour is abusive. He thinks it's normal! That's how he's always been treated by his long-term girlfriends, with the notable exception of Wifey. Even when Val is being fucking nasty to him in the first couple books of Phase Two, sniping and lying and blaming him for everything under the sun, he just takes it. There's no attempt to tell her she's being unreasonable, no telling her to fuck right off and give her head a wobble, no defending himself even when she's bitching over something that isn't even his doing. And this is a man who has an absolutely gleaming steel spine the rest of the time; Skug has no problem saying no to anybody else, but he can't get past the way he's been taught to treat the important ladies in his life. Skug is a walking reminder that anyone can be a victim of abuse, even the ones who seem least likely to be susceptible.

GENDER REP: This one is the most iffy out of the bunch and definitely was not done very well in the eyes of the people who matter most, but I'll include it anyway because it mattered to some.

So there's Nye, who's...agender? Genderless? And uses "it" pronouns? Nye was generally considered horrible rep because it's also a war criminal and experiments on people and I've seen people say "Well I don't want to be seen like that" but? It's still possible to be a war criminal and also genderless. I never saw the two things as being related or relevant to each other.

There's also Mantis, who's in exactly the same gender/pronouns boat as Nye and always seems to be forgotten about, which sucks because Mantis is a war hero. It fought for the Sanctuary during the War and they never lost a battle when it was in command. It's called out of retirement to fight for the Supreme Council in LSODM, ends up fighting alongside Skulduggery during the Battle of Roarhaven, and ultimately dies attempting a very brave, very risky strategy. Mantis is, unreservedly, one of the good guys. It was also my introduction to sentient beings using "it" pronouns, and did it in a way that felt natural, so when I met my first person online who used "it" pronouns and hated to be referred to as he/she, it was...weird, but not as weird as it would otherwise have been, because I was like, "Oh yeah, like the Crenga. Okay."

And then there's the Scapegrace sex change plotline, which...I might have an unpopular opinion on this one. From what I’ve seen, trans people don’t seem to think was handled well or with any sensitivity at all. I’m not trans, so if the trans community says he was being offensive to them, I’m not going to claim otherwise. But...I first read the Scapegrace plotline as a young teenager in a tiny rural school with zero diversity, going through a period of being deeply confused about my own gender identity. He was more or less my first introduction to the idea that genitals =/= gender. I was relieved, at that point in my life, to read someone having a lot of the same thoughts I was having about being in the wrong body. So while it may have been badly done and yeah, the series would probably have been better without it, it did make at least one kid suspecting she might not be cis go “Huh! So there are other people who feel like this.”

Thrasher is also implied to be legitimately trans/gender-questioning, and that's not played for laughs either.

So? Phase One, while it absolutely had faults and issues and things that were just "Oh god why", was actually full of rep, at least compared to the other series that I read as a child/teen. But? As soon as Dirty Laundry started trying to be woke? He fucking sucks ass at it. Aside from confirming Phase One's hints that Skug has a background of abusive relationships, every single attempt at shoehorning rep into Phase Two is Bad.

The painfully OOC, forced, badly-written awkwardness of Val suddenly being rabidly horny for women out of fucking nowhere. The stilted, forced cringiness between her and any of the women she's flirted with - contrast that with Sorrowscorn's interactions, full of natural chemistry that had us all like 👀 I mean, I never shipped Val/Melancholia, but I could always see why people did - they had miles more chemistry than Val/anyone in Phase Two.

The fucking mess that is v*litsa, because if someone says "I'm really not interested in friendships/relationships right now", clearly the route to true love is to bulldoze their boundaries and forcibly insert yourself into their life and proceed to treat them like a delicate soft uwu flower, completely ignoring the horrible things they've done, while gleefully damning their best friend as an irredeemable monster for the exact same things, which is. You know. Gonna affect your so-called love's self-confidence and self-esteem because she knows she's no different to him. Y'all know I love an angsty ship, an unhealthy ship, a ship with fucked power dynamics, but I literally cannot roll my eyes any further back in my head at this shit. I never read Demon Road, but from what I've heard from friends who did, it does seem like every time Laundry tries to write an f/f ship, he comes up with a cringey abusive/manipulative caricature and tries to call it rep, and he needs to Stop.

Val's Mental IllnessTM arc. It's funny how he wrote Skulduggery as a wonderfully complex character with deep-rooted psychological damage and long-lasting trauma, but believes he wrote a character with "no feelings" - but when he tries to delve into the damage the world of magic has done to Val, he turned her into a weak, whiny drug addict who treats everyone around her like garbage and is so selfish and dislikeable that I? Honestly can't even reconcile Phase Two val with Phase One val. They're two completely different people. He's shown on Twitter that he doesn't have any respect for mentally ill people, and it shows. Other mentally ill people might see it differently, but the whole thing just makes me go "yikes".

Never, who has no personality outside of being genderfluid, and whose pronouns make no sense. I'm sorry, I have never met an nb person who insists that you change from male to female pronouns multiple times in a sentence, every time you refer to them. It's confusing as fuck. Now I have been told that Never has apparently received some character development in the last couple books, and if so, fair play, but I quit reading after Midnight, and Never and the rest of the personality-less new characters introduced in Phase Two who just seemed to be 2D Stereotypes to snag Woke Points were a big part of why, so. Development too late, I'm afraid.

(Now, if anyone is looking for a well-written genderfluid character, I recommend the Tawny Man trilogy by Robin Hobb. I have a lot of issues with her as a writer, and unfortunately I hate her POV character which puts me off the series as a whole, but she wrote the Fool/Amber/Lord Golden and their gender identity/approach to sexuality with so much more respect and realism. That is the kind of rep nb people should be getting: 3D, complex, realistic characters whose gender is only a tiny fragment of their personality, not the be-all-and-end-all of their existence. You know. Like cis people get. Nobody wants to be represented by a 2D cardboard cutout stereotype.)

Anyway idk how much sense this makes it just really amuses me that Laundry would include all this rep completely unintentionally and then go on Twitter and remind us all that actually he's a massive asshole via insensitive/offensive tweets about the groups he'd actually done a fair job of including (i.e. Skulduggery has no feelings, mentally ill people should find another series to read, the bullshit about Val being "heteromantic bisexual" on Twitter and then spouting all the "the woman she loved uwu" shit in the books (proving he has no idea what he's talking about), eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY. He can only write half-decent rep when he's not trying and he inevitably outs himself as having a really shitty attitude towards those people anyway, proving that ultimately it's all either unintentional rep or performative wokeness.

#skulduggery pleasant #sp meta #derek landy hate blog #Anon #fire message #anti valitsa #anti val #anti phase two tbh #phase two fans will not enjoy this post

[septembersghost]

#this is one of those episodes that was almost a little...too much" @laurelwinchester - I saw your tag on the photoset for 4x04, but this is too many thoughts to reply with and became a post. this is actually an interesting (interesting in a distressing way?) theme to me in S4 - Metamorphosis, Family Remains, and Jump the Shark are probably three of the most overtly horrific-as-in-bloody-and-gross episodes that they ever did (maybe also with Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid in S5?), and there's the scene of the boys tending their injuries in Heaven and Hell, there's everything about On the Head of a Pin (which is a masterpiece and a perfectly scripted/acted/directed episode, but it's brutal and visceral and crushing in a way that feels different in scope than almost anything else the show did) - I have a theory that S4 is in some ways the most "honest" depiction of how terrifying and awful their lives really are, and that we see it exposed in a particularly graphic sense due to the extreme trauma underlying Dean's death and torture and suffering in hell, and the rage and grief and feeling of helplessness that led Sam to become everything he feared in Dean's absence by drinking demon blood. Dean comes back, but nothing is what it was, and they hide truths and they hurt (themselves and each other) and are plunged into the violence of hunting in a starker way. angels are suddenly as real as demons, and they're faced with the bleak knowledge that heaven's machinations are as cruel as any devices of hell. trusting anything feels illusory. it's like...the veil that keeps us safe as viewers, that cleans the circumstances up a little bit, thins. the fear is nastier and is a monster all its own, and there are so many fractures and psychological issues and angst that even the episodes of levity, where we'd ordinarily just enjoy being in the story with the Winchesters, are tinged with that underlying trauma. they don't know each other like they did, and so we suddenly, after loving them and watching their story unfold, don't exactly know those versions of them either. there's this pervasive feeling of uncertainty and dread. S4 makes that more raw than they did anywhere else - and it's effective as what was originally planned as the penultimate chapter of the story, despite the fact that it didn’t end up being that - and it's necessary to expose the nerves of what's happened to them, but sometimes it's hard to look directly at it. (I think a lot about the scene between Dean and Tessa in Death Takes a Holiday, and why that's there, why we needed to hear that acknowledgment of, essentially, depression/suicidality, and how it was meant to speak to his arc...I've thought more about it since S15 ended than perhaps I even did a decade ago, for obvious reasons...and it aches that they managed to render so many of these themes, if not inert or irrelevant, then...antithetical to why they existed in the first place. I digress.) when they tried to lean on/recycle those themes again later, it never had the same resonance (and S4 and S5 function together in a number of ways regarding those themes and eventual breaths of reunion/reclamation/relinquishment/recovery...hmm unexpected alliteration is fun!) because the circumstances of S4 were so specifically entwined with those initial journeys. we can't see what happened to Dean in hell, so instead we're presented with the routine gore and the daily unease, wounds being stitched up in motel rooms, and sharp, ugly edges that exist on earth, alive. I watched Buffy for the first time essentially simultaneously with S4 ("I don't know how to live in this world, if these are the choices, if everything just gets stripped away. I don't see the point," is a very circa S4 Dean quote in my head), and I remember when she said - everything here is hard, and bright, and violent. everything I feel, everything I touch. this is hell. - it hit me hard for personal reasons at that time and has rattled around in my chest since, but it also made me think of what Dean was going through, despite the fact that he was literally in hell and didn't have the catharsis of the peace or relief she'd felt - you're pulled from the pit and put back together, every visible scar you once had gone, but every inner one still bleeding, and with the memory of every moment of loss and torment, and your vision of the world is not the same. your brother is not the same. you are not the same. hell, like a shadow with teeth, follows after you.

#apologizing because this is a repeat post since tumblr...ate the first one and it's nowhere to be found? tumblr hates me lately ;__; #me writing a message yesterday about jump the shark that i didn't send has had this on my mind #i've written about S4 before but it's endlessly fascinating and upsetting (i say this as a compliment...?) to me #supernatural #absolutely in no way is it what this post is but i'm filing it under the currently dormant tag #spn liveblog

[littleoddwriter]

Scared of Losing You | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

"Hello there! Your Roman X Reader fics are awesooome! And I want to suggest a request: an Roman Sionis X Male Reader when the reader is caught in a fight between Sionis, the Joker and the Bat family, and gets badly hurt (Joker 's fault). Roman had to deal with the Batman to save his love from death - Angst and fluff at the end + The Batman trying to save reader as he sees him as the only person who can calm Roman. Thanks in advance!!!" @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama

A/N: Thank you so much! That means a lot! <3 I really hope you like it and that I managed to do your idea justice! Thanks so much for this delightful request!!

summary; Basically what it says above: You’re badly hurt by the Joker, Batman helps you and Roman basically, Roman is afraid of losing you.

notes; TW/CW // Hospital; Severe Injuries; Flesh Wounds; Broken Bones; Stab Wounds; Violence (none of these things are really explicit, though, but if any of this triggers you, please be cautious!). Male!Reader; Angst; Fluff; Anxiety; probably non-accurate descriptions of hospitals and such, because I suck; Roman’s usual nicknames for Reader in my fics.

Never in his forty-plus years of living, had Roman thought he'd end up in a situation such as this. It all happened far too fast for his liking; and in retrospect, he should have guessed this would happen. The clown just wasn't to be trusted. Nobody was. Not in this line of business anyway. The Joker had some specific connections that Roman needed in order to acquire a special kind of weaponry. Of course, upon discussing this with the clown prince of crime, he had been a little too agreeable, which should have made Roman more suspicious of him than he had been in the end. Either way, they had made a deal and discussed when and where to meet to get the business going. Now, Roman found himself in a fight with the backstabbing son of a bitch, namely the Joker, and also the fucking Batman and his little birds. Of fucking course! The latter had come in addition, as they had gotten wind of the ruckus caused by Black Mask's, and also the Joker's, underlings. It had already been bad enough, but with the bat and his birds there, Roman had been distracted, busy fighting the one and only Batman, who had gone between him and the Joker. All the while, the clown had taken the opportunity to snatch you away from the corner behind some wooden boxes, where Roman thought to have placed you safely. He hadn't thought the deal to be too dangerous, nor for it to take long, so he had allowed you to tag along, whilst being surrounded by his men. Unfortunately, those precautions hadn't been enough, when the fight had started.

Roman hadn't even noticed what had happened until he had heard your anguished screams, the agony and bone-chilling terror in your voice. His stomach turned almost painfully as he finally registered those sounds, suddenly frozen in place. Graciously the bat had noticed it too, and stopped the punch he was about to land onto Black Mask before it actually made contact with him. When he finally turned his head to seek you out, he saw the Joker looming over your bloodied, twisted and bruised figure. Rage, anxiety and hurt filled Roman to the brim. His sight narrowed in on the Joker, his vision red, his posture tense and dangerous. With a rapidly beating heart, he stepped towards you in quick, booming strides. Holding his gun against the Joker's temple, Black Mask spoke lowly, hissing his commands, "Let go of him. Right now! Or else I will blow your fucking brains out." "As if you aren't planning on doing that anyway," the Joker replied, grinning maniacally with blood splattered on his face. Your blood. "No, actually. I'm planning on fucking torturing you to death some other day. Let him fucking go. I won't fucking repeat myself!" To his chagrin, the Joker's grin only widened, especially when he noticed that Roman's hand was a little unsteady. This never fucking happened! He was a good shot! He always had steady hands! In quick succession, the clown had suddenly grabbed onto Roman's arm and twisted it, making his grip loosen and the gun clattering to the floor. Fuck! Not too long after, Roman wrenched his arm out of the Joker's hands and swung fist after fist into that ugly grimace of the other man. With sickening cracks resounding from either Roman's knuckles and the Joker's face, the Black Mask kept punching until he was suddenly pulled off the other man by a strong pair of arms. "You need to stop," the Batman growled into his ear. "Fuck you! You don't fucking tell me what to do, you fuck!" Roman yelled, trying to get out of the steel grip the bat had on him. The Joker was coughing and wheezing, as he writhed on the grimy, bloodied warehouse floor, a grin still spread on his battered face. He was dragged away by the little birds. Then Roman was suddenly let go of, and he collapsed to his knees. You laid only a few feet away from him. You hadn't moved at all, couldn't possibly. From the looks of it your one leg was broken, an open one, one of your arms was twisted sickeningly, and there was way too much blood all over you to have only been caused by those two limbs. "I'll help him," the Batman rasped, looking at Roman, who swallowed thickly, barely even looking up for a second, his mouth slack. "How? Why?" "I believe he's the only one that will keep you from going on a killing spree right now. I'll take him to the closest hospital. The staff there is really good and can be trusted, I promise. But I need to take him immediately, or else he won't make it." Cautiously, Roman looked at the bat for a few moments, assessing, then he looked back down at your mangled body and nodded weakly, whispering his broken agreement. After that, everything happened in a rush, a haze, Roman couldn't possibly piece it all together. He just knew that the Batman carefully picked up your almost lifeless, quietly whimpering, body and brought you outside to his car. He instructed his birds, Roman couldn't remember what he said, but he knew for some reason he was let off the hook that night, as Nightwing helped him away and to the hospital, after the other birds took care of the Joker and his men until the police would arrive. It certainly wasn't one of his best moments, Roman had to admit. He was trembling, unable to speak, shaken up. This wasn't like him at all. Nothing had ever made him feel quite like this. He hated it. Yet, the thought of losing you was something he hated even more. Hours and hours later, in which Roman had paced around the waiting room of the hospital, thinking up the worst possible scenarios that could have happened from then on, a doctor finally came in to update him on your status, "The surgeries were a success. There weren't any major complications. Obviously, his leg and arm were broken, quite cleanly even, so it was easy to fix those. He also suffered from some stab wounds to his abdomen and thighs, such as cracked ribs, and many bruises and open wounds due to impact from dull objects, probably. We were able to fix him up well enough, though. He's in CCU now and will be put into a general room, when he's woken up. You can go to him now, of course, Mr Sionis." "Thank you," Roman rasped, nodding curtly and then following a nurse to the CCU and your room there. As he went in, Roman had to halt for a second and take a deep, steadying breath. You looked awful, mangled, still so lifeless. Tubes and wires were connected to your body, your broken, twisted arm was in a cast and a sling, such as your hurt leg. Your body was basically all bandages, up to your neck, from what was visible to him outside the blanket and hospital gown. Your face also had some bandages and plasters on it, such as swellings in various sickening colours and some crusted blood. Roman never wanted to see you like this ever again. Thanks to his money and influence, he was allowed to stay, and you were given a sizable bed, so both of you could fit on it. Cautiously, Roman laid down on the mattress, on your 'better' side, without the broken arm and leg, which were both on your left side. He kept a few inches between himself and you, carefully lacing your hands together. Gently, he stroked his thumb over your knuckles, lifting your hand up to his face and kissing it softly. Not for the first time that night, he wondered what exactly the Joker had done to you. He wondered why he had done it. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it sooner, why he hadn't been able to stop that fuck before it had gotten so bad. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to get rid of those thoughts. They were of no use. It was done now anyway. You were still alive and that was all that mattered to him. He didn't care if you were immobile for a while, or perhaps forever. He didn't care if you had to be fed by a tube for a while, or perhaps forever. He just cared that you were still here, alive. And wasn't that a weird thing for him to feel and think- to want? Looking at you like this, he focused on your chest and it's gentle rise and fall. The proof that you were still here, still alive. The beeping of the monitors underlined it, but it wasn't the same as seeing you breathe. Even if it was helped by the tubes in your mouth and throat. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered into the nearly silent room. Roman has never told you that. He started to regret that now. It was something that didn't pass his lips easily. It was something that was tinted with lies and trauma for him and you knew that. He had explained it to you one day when the two of you had gotten into an argument about this whole thing. He knew it had hurt you that he couldn't say it back, whenever you uttered those sacred words. Neither of you had wanted to have a fight ensue, but in the end it had helped to make the two of you understand each other better. Ever since, it hasn't been a problem anymore. Yet, Roman had to admit that perhaps he should have tried harder to make those words work for you at least, after all. Even a variation of synonyms could have been an idea, but he didn't really think of that before. He couldn't be happier for you to still be alive, so he could make up for it. At least he hoped he could still say it, when you woke up. Those words always got stuck in his throat, when he had tried to say them before, and then he had given up. With a heavy sigh, he kept watching you in silence, trying to stay awake until you would finally wake up, but as time passed, his eyes slipped shut and he fell asleep next to you, your hands still intertwined. After two days of constant anxiety, regular check-ups from the doctor, and sleeping as restless as he never had before, Roman finally felt and saw you stir, your eyes fluttering open. The night before, the tubes in your mouth and throat had finally been removed, now you had breathing aids through your nose instead. "Hey, baby," Roman whispered softly, grasping your hand in his, gently stroking over it with his thumb. Blearily, you turned your head and looked at him, a grimace of pain on your face. It made Roman's heart clench painfully. A weak grumble left your lips. With a sweet kiss to your knuckles, Roman leaned over and pressed the button to call the doctor. They checked you over and then put you in your own room on the general station. There, Roman lay down next to you again, gently taking your hand into his once more. Fortunately, the doctor said you were bound to recover completely, and so far there were no complications or anything, but you would have to rest a lot. "Roman," you rasped quietly. Smiling slightly, Roman leaned into you and kissed your bruised cheeks softly. "Welcome back," he whispered against it, his lips brushing over your skin. "What even...?" "You don't remember what happened?" "Not entirely. I kind of, I- I don't know. I know we were in the warehouse to meet the Joker and that something went wrong. But I don't remember much after. The doctor said it was normal, and it would probably come back soon, though," you explained, your voice raspy and broken from not having used it and having had tubes down your throat. "Alright, 'kay. It's probably for the better that you don't remember it, right now." "Yeah, I can see why. Even through the morphine, I can feel the pain, ugh. I must have caused some shit, though. I'm sorry." "Is it bad?", you shook your head. "And don't you fucking apologise. Fuck, you haven't done anything wrong, I'm sure. I don't know exactly what happened or why he did it, but that fucking clown was suddenly on you and---" Roman couldn't continue that sentence then. The thought alone made him choke on the words, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed thickly and squeezed your hand tightly. "Oh, alright. Are you okay, Roman?" "I'm alright. Don't fucking worry about me. Oh my fucking God, baby! I'm not the one, who is fucking attached to tubes and wires!" "Right, right, sorry!" Shaking his head, Roman leaned into you and shut you up by capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, pecking your lips repeatedly. "I was--- really fucking worried about you. I'm just glad you're alive. And especially awake again." Smiling slightly, though it pulled more into a kind of grimace, probably due to the bruises all over your face, you looked at Roman. Even though your eyes were so bleary, they held so much adoration in them. It was truly breathtaking to him. The words were climbing up his throat, wanting to get out. Roman opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it once more. Patiently, you looked at him. "For fuck's sake!" Roman muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them back up and looking at you with tears shining in his eyes and an open expression on his face. He heard your breath hitch. "I- fuck! I love you, Y/N. I was afraid of losing you. I never fucking want to go through that again. 'Kay?" Tears gathered in your eyes and one slipped out and down the corner of your eye. Gently, he wiped it away with his index finger. "I love you, too, Roman. So much. I- I'm glad I'm still here, as well, my love," you whispered, a watery smile gracing your chapped lips, "And I'm very proud of you for saying it, y'know?" "You better not get too used to it, my sweet boy," Roman rasped, grinning, but quickly sobered up again, "Enough of those heartfelt moments, though, ugh!" "Hmmm, not really, but yeah, okay. I'm tired anyway. I think I should sleep some more, right?" "Definitely. Go to sleep, my little prince. I'll be here when you wake up, 'kay? I promise. I'm not going anywhere." Your eyes fluttering shut, you were still smiling, when your breaths slowly evened out, while Roman was looking at you like a hawk, making sure your chest kept rising and falling, despite now having evidence of you being alright. It didn't feel like it just yet, but it would have to do. You were alive and going to be better. He just had to keep telling himself that. At least he could now sleep with the knowledge that he's been able to tell you that he loved you.

#tw hospital #tw injury #tw flesh wound #tw violence #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x male!reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor imagine

[let-the-dream-begin]

Someday

In MOBY, Claire warns John about one Ezekial Richardson, who knows John's biggest secret. In this alternate ending story, Richardson reports John, and he is arrested.

Jamie plans a rescue and visits John in jail to give him the details, and Jamie must face his own demons and confront how John truly feels about him before it's too late.

All canon prior to the end of MOBY is still in place.

Read on AO3

Contains very vague references to BJR trauma and mild internalized homophobia.

February 1779

Jamie was living in a space between reality and memory. He’d seen the insides of quite enough prisons for one lifetime, prisons of all kinds, even since liberation from his longest stay to date. Yet something about this prison…maybe it was the stench, hitting him square in the face like a snapping branch on a tree, or maybe it was who it contained. Maybe it was the role reversal.

His former jailer in chains.

He’d become far more than that, and to think of him as such was beyond an insult. He was a friend, a very dear one. The sting of knowing he’d bedded Jamie’s wife had not left him; it festered under the surface like a wound bubbling just below the skin, waiting to burst.

And yet.

The keys in the jailer’s hand jangled, then clanked, and then the door was open. There were ten men in that particular cell, a significant distance between them and the man in question.

He looked like hell.

He was crumpled in the corner of the cell, hidden by shadow, but Jamie could still see the swelling in his face, dried blood. They’d beaten him senseless in there, and nobody had seen fit to stop it. He’d expected it, but the sight still made him sick to his stomach.

Men like John did not fare well in prison.

The jailer roughly seized John’s upper arm, and Jamie fought the instinct to finch when John winced in pain. He stumbled on his feet at first, and then he was walking forward, shoved every few feet. Jamie battled with his body once more, stifling the urge to seize John’s other arm and wrench him away from the jailer, drag him away himself, as gently as he could without raising suspicion. Instead, he followed the jailer into the small interrogation room.

“General Fraser of the Continental Army. I have strict orders from General Washington himself to interrogate one Lord John William Grey of His Majesty’s Army.”

The jailer did not see fit to let John sit in a chair; he shoved him into the hard ground with a sneer, and Jamie winced.

“The utmost discretion is necessary. He carries sensitive information that canna be overheard. Ye understand.”

“He’s all yours, General,” said the smarmy man. “Rest assured you can use any means necessary. He’s a dead man come sunup.”

“Aye. I thank ye.”

When the door was shut Jamie stepped forward and helped John to his feet.

“Christ, man,” he hissed under his breath, almost involuntary. Claire had wanted to come, had practically demanded it, but Jamie had firmly turned her down. In that very moment, Jamie regretted that. She could have helped him. He had another bloody eye, what looked to be a broken nose, and from the way he stood, several cracked ribs.

“Ye need Claire,” Jamie said, again entirely against his will. “I’ll have them fetch her.”

“No, Jamie. Don’t.”

Jamie led the man to one of the chairs.

“Ye’re in pain, John.”

John grimaced, and Jamie thought perhaps he was trying to smile. “That would be correct.”

“Then let me — ”

“It’s no worse than anything I’ve been dealt before,” he looked very pointedly at Jamie, and he almost — almost felt a rush of shame.

“At the very least, I’ll ask fer water. Clean yerself up.”

“If I go back there in better shape than I left,” John said, shifting in his chair and holding his side, “then they’ll just see to it that I’m bloodied again. And likely worse than they last left me.”

Heat colored Jamie’s cheeks, flaming rage. “I can have ye moved. I’ll fetch Claire, she’ll heal ye, then we’ll move ye to yer own cell. I’ll tell them that Washington wants ye unharmed until — ”

“How many times do you think you can use Washington to make orders before they ask for his written word?” John shook his head. “Don’t bother, Jamie. It isn’t worth it.”

“Those wounds, ye could…they could get infected,” he said with a curt nod. “Claire wouldna like that. Ye’ll get fevered and — ”

“And die?” John exhaled a short laugh. “I’m a dead man anyway.”

“No.” Jamie took three large strides to John’s chair, slapping a hand on the table. “Ye’re not. No’ if I have anything to say about it.”

John’s eyes glistened in a way that Jamie could see even through the swelling and the redness. “What’ll you do? Enact a daring rescue and abscond with me in the night?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye. I’ve already got the men willing.”

John was already shaking his head before Jamie finished. “You can’t do that.”

“Like hell I can’t.”

John gaped at him. “Do you know what I’m charged with?”

“Aye, of course I do.”

“Then you know what they’ll do to you if they know you’re behind this.”

Jamie only hesitated for a moment. “No. They’ve no proof.”

“They don’t need any, Jamie. Don't you see? It took one man’s word to sentence me to death. All they need is the slightest suspicion of something between us.”

“There’s nothing between us,” he growled.

“I am quite aware.”

Jamie blinked, his nostrils twitching. John’s tone was nowhere near accusatory, or self-pitying. He was stating a fact, a truth. Plain as anything.

“But that doesn’t matter,” he continued. “Men that break other men…men like me, out of jail…that doesn’t look good.”

Jamie remained frozen, hovering over John like a threat, his grip on the table tightening. He had nothing to say in rebuttal, nothing to undermine his argument. Because he was right. Jamie wanted to throw it back in his face, tell him he didn’t give a damn what anybody thought.

But he did.

The thought of anyone, anyone looking at him and thinking that…bile was already rising to his throat. His fingers itched to rub that spot on his torso, that shadow of a brand from all those years ago. If somebody looked at him thinking he was that way, it would be as if Claire had never removed that brand, and he ripped his shirt off and showed the world.

Showed the world that his manhood, his very self, was owned and wielded by another man.

Exhausted, Jamie finally moved, sitting down in the chair across the table from John with a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I canna let ye die.”

John looked like he wanted to laugh, and Jamie wanted to hit him for it. “Why not?”

“What the devil d’ye mean by that?”

This time he did laugh, a short, barking sound, followed by a wince and a clutch at his side. “You mean to tell me you haven’t wanted to kill me since the very moment you found out?”

Jamie swallowed. “Aye, I wanted to kill ye. At times I still do.” He took off his tricorn and set it on the table, then smoothed back the hair atop his head with a sigh. “But I didna want ye dead.”

John blinked at him dumbly.

“The thought of it fills me wi’ rage. Ye ken that well enough.” Jamie’s voice was low and rough. “I’ve enough in me to kill ye wi’ my bare hands. But why should I want ye dead? Ye’re no threat to my marriage.”

It was the God’s honest truth. Jamie knew Claire better than he knew himself, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his and only his. And truthfully, if Jamie really dug into the depths of his heart, if Claire truly found happiness with another man, Jamie could never bring himself to kill him. He’d sooner cut out his own heart than cause her pain. If Claire left him, he’d rather kill himself than kill his rival. That would make it easier for both of them.

But it was not like that with John either.

And maybe that was why it enraged him so. There was no solution. There was no parting with Claire for her own happiness, no ending of his own suffering upon losing her. It had just happened, and he could not make sense of it.

We were both fucking you.

“No,” John said softly, interrupting Jamie’s train of thought. “I suppose I am not.”

“I canna say it more plainly. I’ll no’ let ye die. So,” Jamie said, sitting up straighter, “tonight, this is — ”

“Stop.”

“Shut up, man. Ye’re gonna — ”

“No, I am not.” His eyes flashed defiantly, enough to silence Jamie. “I won’t let you do this.”

“Why?” Jamie spat, his fists shaking the table. “Why is it that ye can just stand by and let them kill ye?”

“Because I would rather die than cause you any more pain.”

That froze Jamie.

Had he not just reasoned with himself that he would rather die than cause his wife pain? That was love. Making the ultimate sacrifice was for love.

What John…felt toward Jamie…

What Randall felt toward Jamie.

That was not love.

Vile, unnatural, inhuman, unbearable.

Not love.

And yet.

John wasn’t vile, inhuman, or unbearable. Even if his inclinations were unnatural…he was not a vile creature. In his blind rage in beating him senseless, Jamie had not been able to see that. But it was clear now.

But still, it could not be love. It didn’t make sense.

“Why?” Jamie found himself saying it before he could stop it.

This time, Jamie couldn’t tell if John was about to laugh or cry. His wrecked face combined with the stunned expression on his face would have been comical in any other situation.

“You…you know why.”

Jamie swallowed. “Do I?”

John shifted in his seat with a wince, clutching at another rib. “I refuse to have this conversation with you. I’m bloody enough as it is.”

“John.”

Jamie’s tone surprised even himself. John flicked his eyes to Jamie’s face, and Jamie wanted to wince at how bloody awful the man looked. Remembering that he’d left him in a similar state not too long ago was fully nauseating him now.

“Look, Jamie. I know you wouldn’t sentence me to death, but you don’t exactly…approve of me. I know it.”

Jamie’s jaw hardened. He wanted to correct him, wanted to be able to.

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve thoroughly detested any reminders of…any of this. So please. Just…let it be.”

Jamie could have let it be. Perhaps he should have.

“If ye’re to let yourself die, I have to know.”

“Know what…?”

“Why me?”

John actually recoiled a bit in shock. His mouth gaped a bit, and then he wet his lips. “Let me ask you this, then. Why Claire?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you love Claire?”

There it was again. Love.

“That’s no’ what I — ”

“Answer me, Jamie. Why do you love Claire?”

Jamie hunched over the table again, clasping his hands on the surface. He could write novels detailing every single reason why she was perfect, every single thing he adored about her, every single time she had saved him, body and soul. He’d dictated all of this and more to Claire. But those things were for her. He would not betray that. And either way, it went beyond the physical reasons he loved and adored her. She fit with him like a limb, an organ, a heart. That he could not explain.

“It’s...bigger than me,” Jamie settled on. “The...the reason I get to love her is...not to be discerned on Earth. I just…do. The first time I saw her I just knew. I knew that she was made fer me. And every day since, the Lord has seen fit to prove me right.”

John nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Then you see? There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “To what?”

“To why.”

Jamie’s tongue flicked out thoughtfully, then disappeared just as quickly. “I dinna understand.”

“God…” John pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You foolish, infuriating brute…” He took a deep breath, then put his hands on the table, looking at Jamie. “Please, don’t make me say it. I beg you. I can’t…” His voice caught in his throat. “I can’t bear it,” he finished weakly.

Jamie felt like he may be sick, and his heart was beating far too quickly. 

“Did you think all this time that I just…” John shook his head, his eyes watering. “Did you think that was all you were to me?”

“I…I dinna ken…”

“If that’s all you were to me I’d have taken you up on that…that offer at Helwater without a second thought.”

Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. He had hoped John had forgotten about that particularly humiliating moment.

“But I couldn’t…do that to you. Because you…” His voice caught again, and he swallowed thickly. “I couldn’t do it.”

Because he loved you.

Jamie tried to shove the thought away, to kick it to death inside of him and burn it and stamp on the ashes. But it would not go away.

“I…I ken ye’re a good man, John.”

John nodded, not meeting Jamie’s eye.

I ken ye’re not Randall, was what he left unsaid.

He did know; he’d known it for a while before, but it was solidified when John had refused the offer. He was some sort of exception to the rule in Jamie’s head, the rule that Randall had set in stone for him.

Then they’d parted, and Jamie didn’t have to go mad with questioning it anymore. What Jamie had before him were facts: Jamie had a son, Jamie could not care for that son, John loved Jamie, and so John would move Heaven and Earth to care for that son. There was nothing more to it than a cause and effect, problem and solution. Nothing to question, nothing demanding answers.

But then he was back, in Jamaica, and answers were demanded again.

He was back in the Carolina wilderness, and that obligation had grown into a beautiful love between father and son that Jamie marveled to see.

He was back, and back, and back…

And now this.

And the thought of fate never bringing them together again was terrifying.

Jamie did not want to lose him.

And that realization was equally as terrifying.

Jamie remembered something he’d tried to force himself to forget for years upon years, repressed so thoroughly that he’d never even told Claire.

Jamie had kissed him.

After John had said no, he would not covet his body, Jamie had still, freely and willingly, kissed him.

Why?

And then, very suddenly, that didn’t matter, because John was weeping. Jamie sat stone-still, something unnamable dropping into his gut. 

“Do you know that…” he said through his tears. “That they could remove the capital punishment, reduce my sentence to life in jail, if I…confess?”

“Confess? I thought they didna need proof?”

“No, I mean…before a jury…if I tell them that…that I did wrong, that I will change, if I beg for God’s forgiveness…” He took a stuttering breath that sounded painful. “If I tell them that they’re right.”

Jamie gaped. “What’re ye waiting for, man? Tell them!”

John looked thoroughly horrified.

“Look, John, I…I bear no judgement on how ye choose to live yer life. But if this can save ye…”

“You think I chose this?”

And for the first time, Jamie realized no, he had not.

“Why on Earth would I choose to be such an abomination?” It was clear to Jamie that John did not agree with the words he was saying; he was mocking those that labeled him as such, spitting it back in their faces. “Such a…a stain on society?”

Jamie swallowed. He had no answer.

“And I…I won’t ask for forgiveness. I refuse to ask forgiveness for something that is not wrong.”

“John…”

“If someone held a gun to your head and told you to swear before God that you did not love your wife with all your heart and soul, or else they would pull the trigger, could you do it? Could you stomach going on living having lied so thoroughly and terribly?”

Jamie’s wame twisted. He imagined, for just a moment, looking into Claire’s eyes and forsaking her, telling her he did not love her just to save his own hide, and he wanted to vomit. He couldn’t live with himself. He’d die of shame shortly after. He couldn’t look at her ever again.

And then, just as briefly, Jamie saw himself in the same situation, only looking in John’s eyes, and swearing that he never imagined kissing him again, that he hadn’t felt even the smallest twinge of disappointment when he’d turned him down.

“No,” Jamie said simply, quietly. “I couldna do it.”

And all of a sudden, he understood. He understood John so deeply, so painfully deeply, that he almost broke down and wept with him.

Instead, Jamie did something that he had threatened John’s life for doing many years ago.

He reached across the space between them, and he took John’s hand.

John stared at their joined hands, blinking several times, his mouth hanging open. Then he looked up at Jamie, his brow furrowed.

“Please, John,” Jamie begged, more fervently than he’d meant to. “Please let me help ye. Ye need not forsake who ye are in a court of law. But let me get ye out of here.” He blinked several times, feeling his eyes burning. “Please.”

John wet his lips, looked down at their hands again, then back up at Jamie. “Don’t do this.” Jamie felt him try to pull his hand away, but he faltered. “Don’t…don’t use…this…to try and get me to agree. That’s…that’s cruel, Jamie…”

“I’m not.” Jamie insisted, squeezing his hand. “I wouldna do that.”

“Then what…are you doing?”

“I’m trying to save the life of a friend that has saved mine and that of my family more times than I can count,” Jamie said. “Ye have to let me help ye, man. I canna live wi’ myself if I just let ye walk to the gallows.”

“And I cannot live with myself if we’re hung side by side because you tried to stop it.”

Jamie felt his face getting hot, flush with dread, terror, and horrible, piercing sadness.

Jamie knew John, and he also knew himself. If John wanted to die to spare Jamie, then he would. And Jamie could not betray that. It was not in his moral code to go against the wishes of a dying man.

But damn him if it didn’t hurt to his very core.

John covered Jamie’s hand with his other hand, squeezing. “Please, Jamie. Don’t force me to put you in danger. Please.”

Like a compass drawn to true north, Jamie found his other hand drawn to the rest of their three hands.

“I will promise ye.” Jamie’s voice was hoarse. “If ye truly wish it, then I willna interfere.”

“I truly wish it.”

Whatever final dash of hope remained left Jamie’s body like the removal of a knife. “Aye. Then I promise.”

John lifted their joined hands and fervently pressed his lips there, and Jamie expected the urge to pull away, to run, to curse…but it didn’t come.

All he felt was…aching. Such deep, utter, painful aching.

“Thank you,” John whispered into their hands, his eyes locked on Jamie’s. “Thank you.”

A long silence passed between them, and all that time, it never once occurred to Jamie to let go of John. John wept quietly all the while, trembling ever-so-slightly, and Jamie’s eyes burned with the need to cry. But he did not.

“Tell Willie for me…” John began, and he might as well have cut Jamie open and gutted him there. The lad would never forgive him. Either of them.

“Tell him I’m sorry.” John sniffled, blinking away more tears. “Tell him that I ordered you to say this; tell him to look to you for any guidance he needs. Tell him I trust you.” Jamie nodded solemnly, painfully aware of the blessing that John was bestowing upon him.

All those years ago, Jamie blessed John with his blood. And now, John was blessing Jamie with a piece of his heart to keep safe.

Their son.

“And tell him I love him,” John finished, his voice breaking on the last word. “That I’ll...I’ll always be his Papa.”

If Jamie had been in pain before, he was in agony now. How...how could he tell Willie?

Before Jamie could find the words to express this, to beg John to reconsider for Willie’s sake, John spoke again.

“You know, I…” John bit his lip, as if he wanted to take back even saying anything, but unable to stop the flood now that it had started. “When I had Hector…”

The lad he’d lost at Culloden. His “particular friend.”

“We thought we could change everything.” He laughed ruefully, sadly. “We thought we were the exception to everything. I was lucky I wasn’t executed then for openly weeping on his body. It must have been so terribly obvious and I…I didn’t care. I just…I just wanted to…live and…be happy…”

Jamie tried to imagine it, and then realized he didn’t have to. His heart had died that day, too. But the difference was Jamie had had his returned to him. John had not.

“I wasn’t fool enough to think I could have that a second time, no matter how much I…” He stopped himself, “cared for you.” He swallowed. “I’d grown up by then. Learned…the ways of the world.”

“Do you think…” John went on as if he wished he wouldn’t. “Can you…imagine a world where it’s different…?”

Jamie’s mind immediately went to Claire’s world, Brianna’s world. The future.

“I don’t…I can’t bear to die thinking that people will forever be executed for…loving.”

That word, that small but painfully significant word, die, landed like a blow to Jamie’s stomach, as if he’d forgotten.

He looked into John’s eyes, hardly recognizable through the swelling from hateful fists and tears of grief. Jamie could ease that burden for him. He could tell him what he knew of Claire’s world. He could tell him that someday, it would be different.

“Ye dinna have to,” Jamie whispered, leaning forward. “Because the world willna always be so.”

John’s brow furrowed. “You know this for a fact?” His voice was full of doubtful sarcasm.

“I do.” He leaned forward even further. “There isna time to explain the how, or the why, but Claire, she…she knows things. She…she can…see. She can see beyond our lifetimes, beyond our daughter’s lifetime, beyond our grandchildren’s lifetimes, beyond their grandchildren’s lifetimes.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Your daughter has tried this on me before...as has your wife...”

Jamie shook his head, not having realized John had perhaps already heard the term time-traveler. “Listen to me, man. It’s true, all of it, everything they told ye. Claire, and Brianna, they have seen a world where…where women sit in university wi’ men, learning alongside them. A world where colored men and women havena been in chains fer generations, where they work and learn alongside anyone else, as equals. A world where…where people like you, men and women, will…stand at a great Stone Wall, and…and begin a revolution, much like our revolution here, a revolution to be…to be free to…live, and be happy, as you say.”

Jamie had recalled all his wife and daughter had said with as much clarity as he could.

“I don’t…” John shook his head. “I don’t understand…”

“Ye dinna have to,” Jamie said urgently. “Ye just…ye must ken the truth of what I tell ye. I wouldna lie to ye now, man. Everything I’ve told ye is true, all of it. When the world is…older, and wiser…life will be fairer.” He squeezed harder on John’s hands until he was sure they’d go numb. “I swear it.”

“Someday…” John said, his stare blank, his eyes glassy.

“Aye, John. Someday.”

——

By the time I had finished seeing to the abdominal pain of one of the other boarders at the inn, administered the proper treatment, and logged it all into my medical journal, only two hours had passed. With nothing else to do with myself while Jamie was gone, I tried reading, but my mind could not focus on the words in front of me. I could think of nothing but the state John must be in right now, whether or not Jamie’s plan would work. My thoughts raced over and over in my fevered brain until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I took to pacing the room. When the door opened, with no warning of Jamie’s arrival, being that his feet never made any bloody noise, I had no conception of how much time had passed, how long I had spent pacing.

I stopped, and I watched with bated breath as Jamie shut the door behind him. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to stop my trembling.

“Everything went well, then? You were able to see him? Tell him everything?”

And then Jamie turned around, and I felt something tear through my chest.

“What happened?” I rushed forward, my eyes raking over every inch of his face, my hands squeezing his shoulders. “Oh, God, is he already…? Did they…? Jamie, look at me! Talk to me!”

I resisted the urge to slap him across the face just before he sank to his knees at my feet, myself alone entirely unable to hold him up. I felt bile rise in my throat as I threw myself to the floor to meet him.

“Jamie…Jamie, what…?”

He was weeping, sobbing.

Completely bewildered, I said nothing more; I pulled him into my arms, pressing his head to my breast, and he threw his arms around my waist so forcefully it knocked the wind out of me. I rocked him wordlessly, without even thinking to do so, stroking his hair, kissing the crown of his head. I hadn’t seen him cry like this since he’d broken down at the sight of Brianna’s photograph, so to see him like this was incredibly jarring. It made me want to cry, even not knowing the reason why. 

He carried on, and I comforted him, pushing down everything in me that screamed to demand answers. When I found myself in such a state, Jamie never demanded anything more than I was ready to give, and I would return this, no matter how difficult it was for me.

Just when I thought I might suffocate from his hold around my middle, Jamie finally spoke, garbled and muffled into my dress. 

“He’s going tae hang.”

My throat would not produce sound for a moment. “But you…the plan…you told him…?”

“He doesna want to be saved.”

“What? Is he mad?”

“He willna put us in danger. He doesna want to be saved. He’s going tae hang…”

Jamie, my Jamie, my Highland warrior, my mighty general, sounded like a broken, shattered little boy. And before I could think to process why he was so shattered, I felt my own heart breaking. How could this be? How could John just resign himself to die?

He was going to die!

I thoroughly fell apart myself, the thought of John being torn from me just as I'd found myself a fond and true friend in him enough to break my heart.

The thought didn't occur to me until later, much later, around three in the morning, Jamie and I both wide awake in our bed at the inn, unable to sleep, knowing what awaited us at dawn. I was too distraught for my own loss, busied with crying and mourning preemptively, to entertain the thought that something had happened.

It did not make sense for Jamie to grieve John as deeply as he was. Not unless something had changed. When I asked, gentle as I could, while running my fingers through Jamie's curls, our foreheads pressed together, I watched more tears leak out of his eyes and onto the pillows beneath our heads.

“He loves me.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying of course he does, looking at every inch of Jamie’s face to discern any other hint of where this was going. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, Jamie...you never understood, did you…?”

He fell apart again, clinging to me for dear life, and I cried silently into his hair.

Jamie couldn’t bear the insinuation that John and I had had sex because John wanted to have sex with Jamie. Jamie couldn’t bear any insinuation about John’s desire for Jamie. His knee-jerk reaction to such things was similar to the shell-shock I’d seen during and right after the war in my own time, similar to Jamie’s own shell-shock after Wentworth.

So somehow, John’s love, the depth and purity of it, its enduring power, its sacredness, had entirely eluded Jamie, because he’d been too busy looking at it all completely wrong.

A million questions swirled in my mind and made their way to my tongue, but I swallowed them down. It would do no good. It would only serve to bring Jamie more pain. What had transpired belonged to John and Jamie alone, the same way what had transpired months ago belong to John and I alone.

“I told him,” Jamie began, and my stomach lurched, my mind jumping to a conclusion it had no right to reach.

“About yer future.”

Oh.

Why would he do that…?

“About the Stone Wall.”

My mind swam with confusion, and then when it clicked, my whole chest ached like it was on fire from within.

“I had to tell him…promise him that…someday…”

He couldn’t go on.

“I understand,” I whispered hoarsely. I fervently kissed his head, pressing him deeper into the crook of my neck.

Brianna had mentioned the Stonewall riots in passing one singular time in Jamie’s presence, and Jamie had looked between her and I skeptically, listening, but not contributing to the conversation. I hadn’t expected him to. He’d hummed thoughtfully once, and it was dropped, the topic of conversation shifting elsewhere. I hadn’t realized he’d retained enough to detail it to someone else.

I hadn’t realized…that he’d cared. Cared enough to remember.

I swallowed more tears, stifling a sob bubbling in my throbbing chest.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie.” He clung to me, still weeping. “I…I don’t…I don’t know what to say…”

It was true. I had no idea what John was to Jamie anymore, and perhaps I never would. And that didn’t bother me as much as I’d once thought it would.

“Just…” he said, inhaling slowly with a great shudder. “Tell me…tell me more…about someday.”

After pressing another kiss to his head, I did.

——

I used to believe

In the days I was naive

That I'd live to see

A day of justice dawn

 And though I will die

Long before that morning comes

I'll die while believing still

It will come when I am gone

 Someday

When we are wiser

When the world's older

When we have learned

I pray

Someday we may yet live

To live and let let live

 Someday

Life will be fairer

Need will be rarer

Greed will not pay

 Godspeed

This bright millennium

On it's way

Let it come someday

 When the world's older

When things have changed

 Someday

These dreams will all be real

Till then, we'll

Wish upon the moon

Change will come

One day

Someday

Soon

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #lord john grey #jamie fraser #john x jamie #MOBY #Written in My Own Heart's Blood #PLI completed fic masterposts

[thewheezingwyvern]

Dark Content

tw:Death, tw:COVID, tw:PTSD, tw:Medical talk, tw:rape mention 

It took me longer than it really should have to sit down and type this up. I don’t know if this is going to help but I hope that it helps some of you understand and to calm down when you get up in arms about dark content. 

As some of you know I’m a smut writer here. Most of what I share here now is smut. However if you were to take those pieces and assume my sexual activity about me you would be very, very wrong. I am on the asexual spectrum and my husband and I have never had penetrative sex. It’s not for me. Hell most times in general I find sex to be gross and repulsive. And yet there seems to be this mindset here that if I write it, it must mean I want it. I’m not even really a dark content writer, and yet I still see that. Why?

I think some of you really need to grasp the concept that just because we have stuff that we enjoy writing and reading does not mean we enjoy it in real life or support it in real life.

Fiction is a safe space for us to explore things. Not just writers but readers as well. I can enjoy exploring dynamics but that doesn’t mean that it’s something I would want in my real life. Take for example....I had the chance once to write a fic (not here) with a religious cult environment. It was super toxic and dangerous and that was part of the intrigue. It raised the stakes and honestly the dynamic was fun to explore. But I would in no way, shape or form want to be in that environment myself.

Not only can writing this stuff be a way to explore things safely, it can also be a way to process and help handle traumas and stresses. My fic Biohazard, is focused around the pandemic and some of the uglier sides of the medical field in addition to a romance/sex plot. And I literally write it because I am a responder knee deep in the trenches of this fucking pandemic. I decided to share that because while it’s helping me, it might also help others. 

I write things because I want to and because they help me and because I can explore things safely in the sanctum of fiction. But what is safe for me may not be safe for others and that is literally why the warnings and tags exist.

I’m going to be honest: it is incredibly hard not to be angry with a lot of you antis right now. Like a deep primal rage in me that could rival the heat of the sun. We are living in a time of a global crisis with an awful virus. I am watching in real time so many people DIE from this pandemic and die alone. Our entire medical system is being taxed to the fucking brink and we have a thousand and one problems that need to be fixed. A thousand and one hurtles to champion for and what do you pick?

Two D fucking lines. 

With all the time and energy some of you sink into this, you could actually address real world problems that are actively happening right now. But the fact is...most of you don’t want to actually “fix” anything. You want to destroy other people to elevate yourself and you pick an outlet that makes you have the “moral high ground” so to speak.

And I am so goddamn tired of it. 

Like I’m not saying you have to LIKE the content. Or even approve. But you literally don’t know anything about that person other than what they write out and believe it or not, fanfiction of any sort is not some kind of manifesto that authors put out on what we want in real life. It’s not a check list. It’s ok to not like the content. Just keep moving on with your life. Block the tag, filter it out and keep scrolling.

I don’t really talk about my experiences on here because one it’s a very personal thing and two a lot of what I see? It’s not something the average person can just hear casually. But I can tell you now in my line of work not only do I see grisly things, bloody things, violent things but I’ve also seen the effects of abuse on people. I have seen first fucking hand the look on someone’s face when they realized “someone just tried to kill me” or “that person nearly raped me”. 

You want to champion victims? Then go actively donate and support organizations or are supposed to actually help those survivors, not harass anonymous strangers over the internet that you make assumptions about without even knowing them based on their content. You want to make a change? Then go find ways to help the organizations that are dedicated to helping those people instead of directing that on fanfiction.

#wyvern wheezes #tw: discourse #tw:death #tw:violence #tw:medical talk #tw:rape mention #there are people actually dying right now #people suffering #REAL PEOPLE #NOT FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTERS #MAYBE YOU SHOULD FOCUS ON THEM