#cw CSA discussion

[lazilyambitious23]

I need to add this as well.

(I’ll treat this like Delano wanted/could have addressed it more but comics, especially back then didn’t allot for the space to do it and the people in charge maybe pushed back so he trusted his readers to think critically about it.)

I’m just really passionate about this stuff as someone who wants to write and wants to use gritty realism but be careful with things dealing with minors.

So my biggest issue is just how unsafe that commune is was for kids/teens.

And sure they are hippies and it’s a different way of life and we can say they didn’t know…..but I also don’t fully buy that. I think it’s an excuse. In this run we see children (Mercury) being treated with an adult lens constantly. (Her age isn’t explicitly stated either form what I remember)

Her mother does not look like a safe adult to me. If mercury was there would she have been expected to participate in that orgy? Would her mother have protected her from that or just assumed that because her daughter is an “old soul” (a convenient term used to give minors more responsibility than is developmentally appropriate) she could handle it? Was the environment that they cultivated a space where consent was respected truly? Could someone (minors) say no and not be side eyed and looked at as less enlightened or involved in the commune?

Maybe yes. Right? Maybe it would have been okay. Maybe Marj wouldn’t have let Mercury participate. We don’t know and that’s my point. That’s why I want to discuss this.

Delano went out of his way to state that the boy “couldn’t have been more than sixteen”. So he could have been younger. So I’m going to assume this was placed to make us uncomfortable and to start a conversation. That’ll be my takeaway from. Delano was a trailblazer and was attempting to try new things in comics. That’s how I’ll choose to engage with his material from now on. (Because I know my previous comments came off as just fully judgmental and honestly it lowkey was. But writers should be given the benefit of the doubt unless otherwise proven)

And as for John, would he have participated with minors present? Love his character. But I expect more from the man who is traumatized by what he saw in Newcastle (a little girl being actively groomed and hearing from her own mouth the CSA she experienced) would have hated this. But it’s not stated. I’m going to head-canon that he wouldn’t have participated.

(fml totally forgot about Newcastle and Lester. Different discussion if anyone’s interested.)

Again, maybe Delano wanted his readers to do this, think critically and discuss it. Totally valid.

It’s just something that has been making me twitchy to talk about more.

This is the last time I’ll bring up this panel. But I had to get it out!

I’m reading issue #18……I think someone said the comics were a product of their time…..

Idk im having a hard time with Delano’s run. A lot of serious topics are treated as “edgy” and not given the proper thought and respect.

This is my first time truly getting into comics, the media I’ve ingested from DC has always been their animated shows.

I know Delano’s run is like sacred but I don’t know, im having a hard time with it. Ruins the vibe for me.

[iamnmbr3]

isn't pdf to ship minor characters(like trio) with adults like voldemort or professors?i mean ok ship dark enemies but not pdf. You agree with this?

Lmao what? "pdfs"?! Really? This isn't TikTok where we bow the censorship of corporations or the authoritarian CCP. If you want to talk about an issue talk about it properly. Say pedophilia. Say rape. This is a serious issue and it should be treated with gravity. You owe that much to the victims of CSA and those at risk of CSA.

Now, first of all, no it is not pedophilia to write about underage relationships in mainstream literature (otherwise George RR Martin would be in jail) or in fic or to portray it in movies or tv shows as long as the actors in real life are of age (otherwise HBO would be in jail since Dany is played by an adult actress but is supposed to be 14). Fictional characters are not real people and do not need to be protected. You know who DOES need to be protected and who gets harmed by this kind of ridiculous fandom discourse? REAL CHILDREN WHO ARE VICTIMS OF CSA.

Pedophilia is illegal not because it's fictional content that isn't to everyone's taste but because it is real. The term pedophilia refers to the RAPE of real children. CSAM refers to materials - like movies/photos/etc. made depicting REAL CHILDREN BEING ASSAULT. Not in fiction. In real life. Don't you dare equate someone's dumb fanfic about a fictional ship you don't like to that.

Those are the people who need your help. The real,live children who are being hurt and victimized every day by predators. And those are exactly the people who fandom antis put at risk. For example, a few years ago antis started mass reporting AO3 to an FBI reporting hotline meant for reporting CSA/CSAM because they didn't like the fics on there.

Now, of course AO3 didn't get in trouble because fictional stories about underage characters aren't illegal. But you know what did happen? The hotline got clogged up with these fake reports that had to be investigated which caused delays that put actual children being victimized at risk. Think about that. Children who who were being abused and raped had to wait longer to get help, because of antis clogging up the help line meant to protect them.

So no. People can ship whatever fictional content they want. That's not pedophilia. Pedophilia is real adults abusing real children. Don't you ever disrespect the victims by comparing that to some stupid fandom drama.

[dennisboobs]

The fic posterrrrrrrrr

[lesbianfrottage]

I've said this a few different times, a few different ways before, but to be very clear: I do think that actual consensual adult relationships should never be illegal or socially taboo, because it becomes a very slippery slope, but I specifically believe that consensual incestuous relationships should be destigmatized specifically because it is crucial to put ability to support victims of nonconsensual incestuous assault.

I am unfortunately speaking from first hand experience here.

As much as I have fun with it on here, I don't actually have a vested interest in the kink side of things. Not only do I not have a sister complex for real, even if I did I think I'd be pretty unlikely to act on it. But I was a victim of ongoing childhood sexual abuse from an adult in my family. And if you think the way we treat victims of sexual assault who come forwards (especially shaming and blaming them) is messed up, you haven't seen anything, because the way we treat victims of nonconsensual incest is actually disgusting.

I have been talking about this with my therapist a lot lately actually! When the only portrayals of something are as a villainizing characteristic it's really hard for a kid to speak up because they feel like maybe they're bad for it happening to them. And then when they do speak up yeah, MAYBE the adult figure does something and shit gets better. But abusers know how to hide things well, and they've still been shamed and are looked at as if they're filthy. It's enough to give a girl a complex! And that's assuming they even took you seriously enough to file the report. The mandated reporter I told just ignored it because she liked my abuser.

If some of you are old enough to remember before gay marriage, it's the same thing as what happened there: partner abuse in gay relationships was SEVERELY underreported because it looked different, or they didn't want to get looked at badly, or in some cases they felt an obligation not to make other gay people look bad.

As long as we stigmatize healthy, consensual adult relationships, their nonhealthy, nonconsensual analogues get stigmatized to the point that victims can't get help.

If I'm being honest I actually do personally find IRL incest kind of icky! And yes, a lot of that is my own trauma. But I also recognize that if we want to be a society that protects the most vulnerable members of our society and creates safety nets for when we fail to protect them we have to let people do things that ick us out, personally.

Like I said, I've said literally all of this before in different places on here but I needed it collected for the new pinned I'm building.

[ansicred]

TANGLED UP IN YOUR SUMS

Hidden under their bed, Nesta comforts Ben through his PTSD and helps him realise that he can get better if he allows himself the grace to do so. Relationship Dynamics; Starts Angsty; Fluffy; Mental Hurt-Comfort. SETTING: In Ben & Nesta's house in the Whitechapel Supernatural District, London | Sometime in 2016. CHARACTER(S) INVOLVED: Ben, Nesta WARNING(S): cw: implication of CSA , implied discussion of CSA (in Ben's past at the Puppy Pen)

[weaselbeaselpants]

About fandom smexuality, aging-up, age gaps vs CSEM

The thing I wish people could understand is the debate over whether or not loli/shota/cub/drawn 'artwork' is inherently cp is a different debate than the fandom questions of:

" Is making a child character into an adult for *reasons* akin to irl grooming? "

" Is making a childincanon-now-adult-character date an always-was-adultincanon-character akin to irl grooming? "

" Is making absolutely everything into a sexy pinuplegalage adult good for me? "

" Can you write about these topics at all? "

" What is someone's mental age vs physical age when it comes to fantasy fiction involving shit like gods, monsters, shapeshifting talking animals having smex? "

" Is it wrong to dismiss a character's age when they otherwise don't act or look the age they're supposed to be +are treated as sexualized adult in canon? " ((kinda specific; I'm mostly thinking of Ariel and Jasmine being canonically 16 and 14 for some reason.))

All these above debates are worth talking about. And by talking about, I do mean having discourse over because it's unavoidable. No one is going to agree 100%, I think that's just the nature of sexualizing things or maybe just fiction in general. Something that may be tame to you can be triggering/traumatizing for another person -especially if that person is a survivor of any kind of ab*se. You are not responsible for their well-being, B U T, you ARE responsible for yourself and not being a dick to survivors. I also think it's such a 'your millage may vary';'depending on the situation in canon v fanon'-shit going on.

f.e. shipping the themepark young man version of the Mad Hatter with the adult woman Alice that walk around Disneyland and are their own characters apart from their animated counterparts but clearly are still meant to illicit those versions-- I can be sus and grossed out and designate it as one of my own notps all I want, same with Lydiajuice and Fluttercord. I DO find these ships genuinely 'icky' to me because I can't get over the association w the animated versions. BUT- knowing the context of what people are into it and how, I'm not going to call that shit amoral. It's not. I'm just allowed to dislike it. Cope.

Ultimately people are right that it's sus how we keep making underage characters into smexy adults to appeal to adults with sexual and/or shipping tastes. Like 'can we seriously not comprehend characters in a non sexual (or in fandom, non shiptastic) context EVER about anything?' is a genuine debate worth having.

People are also right that susbehavior can be excused with legitimate circumstances; like how coming of age stories inherently mean minors discussing sexuality because teens are sexually imbalanced and sex interested. There's a LOT of talk to be had there and shade to be delivered.

As an asexual who's dabled in, and has friends, who make and sell adult art for adults, I just don't see this problem[i.e. aging up minor characters into adults] as an inherent red flag.

Many honest nonpredatory people have adultified versions of their childhood crushes. There is a porno version of Alice in Wonderland where Alice was a sexually adventurous twenty-something getting down with other adults in furrsuits and singing. No really. Me in my new fangled respect for the og novel can be all "GAWD why do we have to make this sexy?" all I want -AND YET-- I'm also glad they made the porno version of the story for adults ABOUT adults. Good job. I'm sure lots of people looking for that thing loved it. Let cringe adults be cringe adults, damnit.

Sexuality and sexual preference (not orientation) IS messy and complicated even if you do all this by yourself and without a partner.

~End of part 1.

[kirkyardbones]

got straight up p*do apologia on my dash from tumblr's algorithm, burn and also rot

[iamnmbr3]

honestly why did jkr choose DUMBLEDORE as arbitrary gay 'rep'. Besides the not even there stuff he is an awful person.

(And you could pretty easily read him as that sort of Creep. Like I know that's not the sort of grooming people mean but that's always what I think :( )

I know. She really went 'diversity win! the serial liar and manipulator of children who is weirdly fixated on the attractiveness of an 11 year old is gay!'

Now I am absolutely NOT saying that a gay character cannot be flawed or even downright evil. Being gay doesn't make someone inherently bad - or inherently good. Gay people are humans - and just like any other group of humans are capable of the full range of human complexity. However, when the ONLY gay character is like this it feels like their negative personality traits are tied to their gayness. (Just like if Dumbledore was the only straight character it might feel like the author was was casting aspersions on the morality of straight people - even if that wasn't her intent).

Also it's so weird because there were so many other characters that are very frequently read as queer - including Tonks, Lupin, Draco, and Sirius. Not to mention HARRY POTTER himself. But nope. JKR was extremely resistant to anyone even suggesting these characters might not be straight (lol joke's on her - she might not have meant to write these characters as not straight but she did. be mad about it jkr). Only the character who had one queer romance which was extremely destructive and then swore himself to a life of celibacy where he spends all his time manipulated children is allowed to be gay apparently. smh.

And yeah. As for Dumbledore coming across kinda creepy, I definitely think it wasn't JKR's intention but it is a very valid reading based on what she wrote. I mean Dumbledore literally is out there saying 'oh yeah one of the only reasons adults liked this 11 year old child was because he was hot' without any awareness of how incredibly messed up a thing that is to say.

Like if that's something he's comfortable admitting publicly what thoughts doesn't he admit to? This is just an incredibly bizarre thing to say and really says a lot about how he perceives the world.

Why does he assume that all adult teachers pay attention to how attractive the children they are responsible for are? Why does he assume that teachers' treatment of their UNDERAGE STUDENTS is affected by attractive they find each child? That is not how an adult should ever be relating to or thinking about a child.

And it's specifically attractiveness he highlights - not cuteness or charm or literally anything even slightly more appropriate to favor a child for (even though it would still be wrong to favor a student). No. It's the same way he talks about Tom later. He suggests that Tom used his looks in some sort of evil seductor routine to victimize Hepzibah Smith - even though what we actually see is HER creeping on Tom, so it comes across very much as a "he was asking for it" and "he was to blame because he was being a temptation simply by existing" type perspective which is absolutely repellent. And seemingly Dumbledore was thinking about Tom in that way right from the beginning.

In addition, I will say it's notable that in the Hepzibah Smith memory Dumbledore seems to sympathize with the person who is acting as a predator. (I mean she literally touches Tom without his consent and tries to hit on him multiple times while he tries to change the subject and seems super uncomfortable; she is the aggressor in that interaction).

It's also notable that Dumbledore seems to take Tom rejection of him at their first meeting very personally which is odd. Tom's reaction to Dumbledore is not that surprising but Albus seems to take great offense at the fact that Tom does not trust or look up to or like him and does not want to spend time with him or accept his friendship. It's a rather unusual way for an adult to react.

And more generally he doesn't treat children as children. He talks about child!Tom the same as he does adult!Tom and doesn't seem to view him as ever having been fundamentally different. He happily sends Harry and his friends into danger.

He also has a nasty habit of reading people's minds without their consent. I don't think it's a coincidence that nothing about the topic of Occlumency is taught at Hogwarts. It seems that he's been frequently reading the minds of the Golden Trio (and probably other students) for years - probably since book 1; and the mind is a very intimate and scared part of a person that shouldn't just be violated. Characters having a blank or closed look is often used as a descriptor to suggest that that character is employing Occlumency. We know Tom's mind powers were quite developed and I think he successfully blocked Dumbledore from his mind during their first encounter (after Dumbledore read his mind to find out about the things he stole) as right after that scene he is described in similar ways to scenes where characters use Occlumency. And this denial and rejection may been part of what particularly irritated Dumbledore.

His interactions with kids - and especially his fixation on Tom - are very weird. And you could definitely read it as him having some sort of repressed (or not repressed) attraction/fixation that he's probably in denial about (or does mental gymnastics to justify). 100 percent not JKR's intent. But yeah. The way she wrote him is kinda off.

[greenfiend]

Lonnie Byers

why he is far more significant in Stranger Things than we are led to believe...

“The scariest monsters are human beings and what we will do to each other.”

This post is very much inspired by @/kaypeace21's post on Lonnie from 2021. Just so you guys know, kaypeace21 theorized Byler LONG before most of us. She has a pretty good track record for predicting aspects of Stranger Things. This post will include some of her brilliant finds and will add even more evidence that was introduced to us in ST4 and TFS.

Warning: this post discusses some VERY dark and mature themes. I will allude to dark stuff at first but will leave the darkest stuff below the cut.

CW: Ab*se, CSA, substance use, DV...

The name Lonnie (nickname of Lawrence/Laurence) has two specific relevant meanings:

Lion and Oak tree. x

(Some symbolism examples: Nancy compares the Demogorgon (also titled: Deep Father) to a lion in ST1. In ST3, Holly notices trees (what looks like oak trees...) and looks frightened.)

For every mention of trees and predatory cats/lions I will add 🌳and 🦁 emojis respectively.

Keep both of these in mind as both predatory animals/cats and (creepy) trees are common occurrences within Stranger Things. I will touch on both of these throughout the post.

Anyway, lets start with the surface level stuff we know then I'll touch more on the darker subtext.

So, who is Lonnie Byers?

When we first hear the name Lonnie, he is brought up as a potential suspect by Hopper in Will's disappearance.

Joyce is quick to dismiss him as a suspect but does give us some important information about his character:

Lonnie "used to say [Will] was queer. Called him a fag." Whether or not he would say this to Will's face... he's obviously, not a great guy or father.

Joyce and Lonnie are divorced. She hadn't heard from him in about a year.

He doesn't like cops.

In The First Shadow, we actually learn that this is not the first time Lonnie is seen as a suspect in a case. (spoilers in next paragraph)

Lonnie was mistaken for Victor Creel and he was investigated for the animal murders by Hopper. This was not just a random choice, remember, Lonnie's name means Lion as in the predatory animal 🦁. Jonathan also told us that Lonnie made him hunt rabbits. This is a major hint! So, Victor Creel is innocent, and near the end of the play, Henry tells Joyce that she's so close yet so far from the truth (I'm paraphrasing). He's absolutely right though, the truth was right under her nose but unfortunately she doesn't see it (yet).

The fact that they made a very obvious comparison of Lonnie Byers to Victor Creel, the suspected murderer of his entire family... lets just say... it tells us A LOT.

Anyway, back to learning about Lonnie in season 1.

Joyce tries to reach out to Lonnie about Will, but is unsuccessful. He doesn't pick up the phone. His girlfriend does and says he's unavailable.

In a flashback, we hear Joyce and Lonnie argue about Lonnie not coming to play baseball with Will. She says she's "so sick of [his] excuses" which obviously means he has frequently made false promises/let Will down. He obviously does not prioritize Will.

To further prove that point, we later literally see him close Will off as he hammers wood right in the entry way for Will to return. The comic about Will's time in the UD gives a heartbreaking look into Will's POV. He cries to his father to not shut him out, but Lonnie ignores Will's cries...

Paralleling El's flashback to when Papa locked her in the dark room and ignored her cries... (the existence of that scene and many other flashbacks with El and Papa make me strongly believe that El's memories of Papa are altered version of Will's memories of Lonnie... I won't go into that much though in this post).

Just look at that obvious bright light in the closet behind Lonnie. Same light Will stared at prior to vanishing… That accompanied with El’s flashback of being locked in a room alone, paints a rather grin image. He’s trying to shut Will out.

Just from these clues so far, he’s not a good father.

To stay or to go…

(a bear (Will) vs. a tree branch 🌳)

If you pay close attention, you’ll see many references to this song within the show… and they even specifically made the association between a father and son when Steve called Dustin “dad”. Which father and son pair are the most associated with the song? Will and Lonnie… as that song first played in the scene where Lonnie tells Joyce he won’t be taking Will to baseball practice.

We can tell from these moments (and more) that dad wants Will to stay put and not go anywhere. We even have Dustin (the one symbolizing “dad”) telling Will to “get back here… I’m going to kill you.” Those were also the last words spoken to Will before he vanished. This is significant.

Suspicious Evidence...

When we see Jonathan visit Lonnie's looking for Will, there's a small bike behind him.

We know Will left his bike in the forest 🌳 when he vanished. Why does Lonnie have a child's bike?

Demogorgon also means "The Deep Father". I talk more about this here. Will is telling Mike in code that his father "got [him]".

Joyce is yelling at "Papa" that he took her son away.

The line of God (aka a father) taking "someone so young, so innocent" at Will's funeral with the focus on Lonnie.

In TFS (spoiler), Lonnie admits to stealing baby Jesus from the Nativity scene.

(GIF credit to @/kaypeace)

This specific shot tells us what we need to know. Lonnie is responsible for Will's disappearance. He is hammering the nail in the wall and it directly cuts to Mike representing the gate being opened with a pencil and paper. Lonnie is the reason the gate opened in the first place! Now, when I say that I don’t mean he literally opened the gate, I mean that the a*use he inflicted onto Will had caused all the monsters within the show and the creation of the Upside Down. Bold claim to make, I know… but bear with me here. As I will now go into the darker clues…

Lonnie's "Type"

Joyce refers to Lonnie's girlfriend as a "teenager". This is significant! Because (spoiler for TFS), Lonnie dated Joyce when he was 25 and she was 17!

This is a pattern for him. He not only preys on animals 🦁, he preys on teenagers... and it gets even worse.

Look, the implications here are, unfortunately, very clear. We see Lonnie look at Jonathan walking away, then he looks down at the photo of Will with the dialogue "He's kinda cute, hmm?"

"Maybe I'll trade you in for the younger model?" is said while Lonnie looks in Jonathan's direction.

Trading someone for someone younger. He likes them young.

He is a predator. You may not want to believe the truth here but as we know with this show... everything is intentional.

Let’s continue on with even more disturbing clues…

When Joyce and Hopper find Will in the UD, he is in a library (a place of archives, of documented history) And he appears like this...

He's being violated... by the vines. Vines, that grow on trees. 🌳Lonnie means oak tree... This is a representation of documented history that he had been se*ually assaulted by... the tree with vines... Lonnie. Also if you look into the full lyrics of “Should I Stay or Should I Go”… let’s just stay it’s disturbing how that song is associated with a young boy and his father…

Also... keep in mind that the vines are preventing Will from speaking. Will is being silenced as well.

Next season we see the MF force itself into Will. Again, another violation, this time by the MF (yes- the mother fucker, that is what Lonnie is after all). This was done on a field. A baseball field. We know Lonnie is associated with baseball.

And again, the MF (father) is silencing Will...

In this scene in ST3, we get yet another reference to Will being violated in the past. We are shown a flashback of the MF possessing Will, and we are given the comparison of non-consensual sex and the gate/door opening. We know this due to the term “penetration” being used in relation to opening the gate…

Murray states "the door had been opened once" while we are shown Joyce with a look of horror on her face. "It was still healing", as experiencing that does require a lot of healing.

“Larry the construction guy”. Larry is a nickname for Laurence. Lonnie is another nickname for Laurence. This line by Jonathan has multiple meanings.

Lonnie is in Will's head.

“Stuck up your nose”. Lonnie is, again, represented as violating Will.

When Jonathan confronts Lonnie we can see this Evil Dead poster behind them. Not only is it very visible but… Lonnie draws attention to it. This poster is significant! This woman is being attacked and choked by a tree. 🌳 The tree goes inside her… it violates her.

Lonnie wants Jonathan to take down the poster. This is important. He wants Jonathan to stay silent. More on this later…

If this isn’t enough symbolism to convince you, check out kaypeace21’s post where she goes in even more depth around the music/musicians Jonathan references, and even more background details that add to this. They intentionally painted the picture of him being a s*xual a*user, as the existence of all these clues all add up to the same conclusion. A very uncomfortable truth.

Dad, you’re choking me

Speaking of being choked, ever notice how this is something that seems to occur frequently within the show?

That Mike and Ted moment in particular stands out because it occurs right after the Jonathan and Lonnie confrontation with that Evil Dead poster in the background (being choked by a tree 🌳)… so the “dad” doing the choking here is absolutely Lonnie.

Yet another case of being silenced as well...

The Trunk

Probably the most concerning moment to many on the surface. Remember how “dad” said “don’t go… anywhere” and the symbolism of him shutting Will out? Well, let’s just say that it’s not a stretch to think he put Will in a trunk before.

It’s also worth noting that when Billy opens the trunk to see a tied up Heather we get a flashback of him choking her. This William is likely replaying the ab*se Will went through… he was possessed by the MF (father) after all.

Also, remember in ST2 they tied Will up and he shouted several times “why am I tied up?” Yeah… Also all those being suffocated references…

Substance Use

While everyone can struggle with substance use and it doesn’t make them a bad person, the use of substances causes the lowering of inhibition. “Lowering inhibitions means reducing restraints against behaviors that might normally seem inappropriate, dangerous, or taboo.” x This is why people under the influence of alcohol, and harder drugs can become more aggressive and a*usive.

When we see Lonnie's house, we see many cans of beer. We also see him drinking while he visits Joyce. He also encourages Joyce to drink too to help her "think straight". Hmm... strange choice of words I must say.

Now, I don’t think Lonnie just has an alcohol problem, I think he also has a stimulant use disorder. Stimulant = drugs like cocaine and crystal meth.

Kaypeace21's post goes into the details of the possible crystal meth use and how when Will was possessed by the MF, he was showing symptoms of a child on this specific substance (sweating, trembling, seizures, etc).

Another stimulant use reference, but cocaine this time. Remember Larry = Laurence = Lonnie.

There are many subtle references to drug use throughout the entire show from Papa forcibly injecting Terry Ives, El, Henry etc, to Reefer Rick and Eddie and plenty more.

Although we don't have much information on this, I think it is implied that Lonnie is a drug user. Not only does this mean that his impulses were less inhibited, but this also puts into question the possibility of further neglect. The Byers are not rich by any means, and if Lonnie is so focused on obtaining substances... that leaves barely any money for anything else.

"He made me do it…"

So as Jonathan told us, Lonnie made him kill a rabbit. The lion 🦁 forcing his offsprings (lion cubs) to hunt and kill, just like him.

This is something we have seen quite frequently within the show:

El being forced to harm a cat by Papa

Henry being forced to harm a rabbit while influenced by the MF (father)

(In TFS) Henry being pressured to harm animals by Papa

Will saying "He made me do it" in reference to the monsters attacking (he being the MF = father)

Billy saying "He made me do it" (again he being the MF = father)

D'art killing Mews

What's interesting to note is the fact that many characters are associated with rabbits and/or other small animals.

This likely also connects with the reoccurring theme of survivor's guilt within the show. Specifically, of the survivor blaming themselves for the death of others.

Max blaming herself for Billy's death

Mike blaming himself for El's death

El blaming herself for the death of the lab kids

Nancy blaming herself for Barb’s death

Lonnie forced Will to cause harm and/or blamed Will for the harm caused. We know how Will is, he's incredibly sensitive. This absolutely would weigh on his conscience.

Where’s mom in all of this?

We know she has been working a lot, but there could also be something else going on here. Could the allusions to her mental health issues come into play here as well? It's possible...

During "the source" scene with Billy's memories, Billy cries out because his mother is gone. Keep in mind, Billy's memories parallel Will's A LOT (the baseball, father calling him a "pussy"... etc), and the song "William" plays during this whole sequence.

It is likely that Joyce was separated (or emotionally distant) from Will for some time in the past...

Domestic a*use

To make the assumption that Will had witnessed DV between his parents would not be a stretch. We have already seen Lonnie and Joyce fight and it was not pretty.

We also see Billy's father slap his mom hard in the face (like I said, Billy's memories parallel Will's memories...)

We also have seen Lonnie gaslight Joyce already, trying to make her think she's "crazy" and we've seen them fight about Will and finances. This was no stable household for a young child...

Fear of the Truth

It isn’t discussed enough, but there’s a reoccurring theme of the fear of telling the truth. And no this isn’t just about coming out of the closet.

This is especially true when it comes to telling mom the truth.

El repeatedly preventing the boys from telling Mike’s mom what’s going on… specifically about the “bad men”. She fears the repercussions (demonstrating a gun pointed to her head… implying a threat… “I’m gonna kill you!”).

Mike and Nancy unable to tell their own mother what’s going on with them.

Jonathan unable to tell Joyce about “what’s going on with [him]”.

Lonnie telling Jonathan to take down the poster showing a*use and telling him to “behave” for his mother’s sake… he’s trying to silence Jonathan…

Nancy telling Mike “no more secrets”

Joyce telling Will he needs to talk to her (about what happened with the MF)

Dustin hiding D’art from his mother/the kids in general hiding the supernatural stuff from their parents

Billy unable to explain to Karen what had happened to him

Max telling Billy he needs to talk in the sauna scene

and plenty more…

Will frequently communicates in a code. We see this several times:

"It was a seven, the demogorgon got me"

Communicating through the lights

Drawing pictures instead of talking/explaining

Morse code

"Sometimes it can be scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel. Especially to people you care about the most. Because what if... what if they don't like the truth?"

The painting itself

The painting speech... using "El" instead of himself

Usually a*use of a child is not immediately obvious. Parents often think that they will immediately know if their child has been a*used, but often, the signs stay hidden. Remember that most kids are a*used by adults they know. X

Some of the common reasons why child stay silent:

They worry about being blamed, or mistakenly believe they caused the abuse.

Their a*user has threatened them in some way.

They know and maybe even feel close to their a*user and don't want to hurt them.

They think no one will believe them or help them.

Babies and children under 5 years old—who make up nearly 40% of maltreated kids—may not have the words to explain what happened to them, making it difficult or even impossible for them to ask for help. X

This is just important information that everyone needs to know. Child a*use isn’t obvious, the kid may even seem alright with spending time with their a*user… this does not mean the a*use doesn’t exist. That is a very harmful claim to make.

When it comes to a*use, especially child a*use, we must be vigilant. Because the child likely won’t tell us but they will show us the signs.

Some signs to look out for:

Any sudden, continued change in behavior.

increased anxiety

unexplained injuries x

Repressed memories

I’m just going to outright say it: the NINA plot line is important because it tells us a lot about repressed traumatic memories.

“Our brains have a defence mechanism in place to protect it from bad memories. You buried these memories long ago.”

Then in the last episode of ST4, we learn something VERY telling about Will.

Remember… Larry = Laurence = Lonnie.

They basically told us that Will only vaguely remembers Lonnie. This is an incredibly important clue to what Will is going through. Will’s trauma was so intense that he has been repressing the memories of his own father.

In ST5, this is absolutely going to be an important aspect to his arc and to the story as a whole. Will must come face-to-face with his traumatic past. Unlocking those memories will be key to finally defeating the monsters for good.

The Destroyer of Worlds

So, I’ve mentioned this many times before, but Will is compared to “Little Boy” the first atomic bomb. (Click here and here for posts about it).

He is a bomb that went off on Nov 6, 1983, freezing time, and forever changing Hawkins. J. Robert Oppenheimer was the creator of the real atomic bomb, and he was known as the “Father of the Atomic Bomb.” He was also known as “The Destroyer of Worlds”. Because Will is “Little Boy” and Lonnie is his father…

Lonnie is The Destroyer of Worlds. A perfect term for someone who inflicted such horror onto an innocent child. Because trauma like this has an incredibly profound effect on a young mind, in more ways than you can imagine. His actions are the catalyst for the chain reaction of this entire show. He pushed over that very first domino.

Why is all of this evidence so hidden? Why do we barely know anything about Will’s past with Lonnie? Because… instead of telling us his past, they’ve been showing it to us through the horrors. You have to look very deeply into the show to see the truth start to add up like a puzzle. There are many themes that reoccur/are alluded to within the show for a reason. And it’s all from one single source.

Demogorgon is The Deep Father, MF is the mother fucker (father), Papa is father, and it was Vecna’s father who was convicted of the murders.

It was father this whole time.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty five

authors note: hopefully, after this one, a lot of things will make sense. long-term storytelling, friends.....i know what i'm doing.

cw/tw: angst, graphic violence, attempted and real violence against women and children, scenes regarding sexual assault, and discussion of csa.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 13k 

The second Solana didn’t answer the phone when he called, Roman knew something was very, very wrong.

Solana always answers his calls and texts, and every single one of those outreach attempts by the Tribal Chief goes unanswered.

So, it’s not him being notified that there was an “incident” at the library where she works and he knew she was, that triggered him. It wasn’t even Bautista not answering his phone. It was being hit with the sound of Solana’s sweet voice via her voicemail that he just knew something bad had happened.

And, it had him sick to his stomach. 

The minute Roman arrives at the taped off library, police and first responders surrounding the area, a crowd of individuals gathered, trying to see what’s happened.

Matteo and Dwayne in tow, Roman is barely on the steps when the all too familiar stench hits him.

Death.

It’s the smell of death, and it permeates the environment, bypassing the roped off establishment, slapping him in the face the minute he walks in and is met with the grisly sight.

A sight that makes Dwayne mutter, “Jesus Christ….”

Bodies almost lined up, stacked against and with each other. Some overlapping. Some right beside each other. The coroner has clearly yet to arrive, as they’re all still uncovered, revealing the gristly details of their demise. Riddled with bullets, gaping holes telling the onslaught was something similar to a firing squad.

But, it’s two bodies in particular that draw the attention of the three men. Separate from the rest, faces grotesquely disfigured, their shirts ripped open and revealing their chests that are also riddled with bullets. It’s not that horrific site that has Roman crouching down for a better examination.

It’s what’s been carved into what remains of their chests that has his blood boiling. A symbol.

A symbol that he knows all too well.

The Nightmare Factory.

Matteo is saying something, either to him or Dwayne, but Roman is too consumed with a level of rage he’s never felt before.

“Rhodes.” It’s a simple word filled and consumed with an almost ungodly amount of hatred. “Rhodes is behind this.”

Cody Rhodes is responsible for this attack, this violent, grisly attack that claimed the lives of so many, two of his best men included, and even more, the kidnapping of his wife.

Because Roman has lived long enough to recognize the optics of this situation. The place where his wife works was attacked, countless people killed, and yet his wife is nowhere to be accounted for. Not to mention that a calling card, a message was clearly left, letting him know exactly who was behind this. 

It all points to one thing, and one thing only.

Cody fucking Rhodes has taken Solana.

He’s taken his pregnant wife.

“I don’t know.” It’s Matteo’s voice. That much Roman can make out. Nothing else, because the amount of rage burning within his big body is on the verge of an explosion. “Something feels off about—“

“Let me through!”

The voice of the one man Roman both hates and loves to hear in this moment. The Tribal Chief stands up and turns around to see the man of the hour who’s just zoomed past the barricade of cops zoning off the area.

Or, supposed to be. 

And, in yet another twist that no one could have seen coming, an almost deranged Cody makes his way directly towards Roman, screaming almost wildly, “you evil son of a bitch!”

Wrong….fucking…..words.

Naturally, both Matteo and Dwayne move to prevent Cody from swinging on Roman, but it makes no difference, because the Head of the Table easily bulldozes his way in between them and makes a beeline for his target.

Roman’s powerful punch sends Cody flying flat on his ass. Roman wastes no time jumping on top of him, big hands wrapped around his neck. “WHERE IS SHE!” 

A roar of a question that travels through nearly every floor of the library. It’s met with Cody’s hands grasping at Roman’s forearms, trying to pry himself free from the other man’s iron grip. When that fails to work, he takes advantage of Roman’s focus on choking the life out of him to lift his leg, knocking Roman off.

And in a matter of seconds, the roles are switched, Cody landing a rather nasty blow to Roman’s right cheek. “Where’s Brandi and Emma!”

As Dwayne and Matteo move to separate the powerhouses, the latter of the two starts to put the confusing out of place pieces together.

Yanking Cody off his brother, restraining the other man as Dwayne does the same with Roman, Matteo's younger brother barks, “WHERE THE HELL IS SHE!”

Naturally, Cody growls back, seemingly unbothered in the face of a borderline mad man. "Where's my wife!”

And, it’s in both men asking the same thing yet again that it clicks for Matteo, prompting him to shout, “would you both just wait a damn minute!”

Of course, neither man is trying to listen, both continuing to fight like hell to break free before they can rip each other apart and fall right into the trap that’s clearly been laid out for them.

Even if they’re both too blinded by rage and grief to see it.

“Listen to me!” Matteo hisses, his voice borderline venomous. He forces Cody’s gaze on him, putting two and two together. “Your wife and daughter have been taken.” And then, redirection to Roman. “And your wife has been taken.” Able to grasp his younger brother‘s attention, Matteo doesn’t waste the opportunity. “If Cody is truly the one responsible for this kidnapping, what sense does it make for him to show up and be here right now?”

Then back to Cody who is no longer thrashing as hard against him, “and if Roman was responsible for the kidnapping of your family, why would he be out here in the open right now, showing his hand?” He looks between the two men whose faces reveal they’re both at least trying to consider Matteo’s assessment. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Dwayne also seems to be biting but gestures with his head to the desecrated bodies. “But what about the Nightmare insignia?”

At that, Cody barks a confused, “what?”

It’s only them that Matteo releases him and motions over to the fallen Bloodline men. Cody walks over, the other three never taking their eyes off him.

Matteo especially watches as his face fills with confusion before he looks over, speaking directly to the Tribal Chief. “I didn’t order any hit.” He takes it to another level, clarifying with an almost clenched jaw. “And, I damn sure didn’t kidnap your wife.”

“And, he didn’t kidnap yours,” Matteo informs, recognizing his brother is far too irate still to offer any sort of response. “But, someone did.” 

“And they just wanted you to think each other did,” Dwayne supplies, fully following and believing Matteo’s train of thought. The same way, with excellent peripheral vision, he’s followed the subtle change in body language of the guards who have watched quietly, without any overt reaction to the scene before them.

The same way Roman and Cody, even in the midst of their unbridled fury, noticed the brief shared look between two of their guards.

Bloodline and Nightmare Factory.

Matteo also noticed, commenting in that same unsuspecting tone. “They wanted to draw you both out at the same time….”

“At the same place,” Dwayne finishes for him, again giving away nothing.

And then, chaos. 

It’s almost like a scene out of a movie, something that defies logic and science with how fast the four men whip out the guns they all have on them.

How one minute, the four are involved in a tense exchange amongst one another, and the next, they’re shooting down the same men who should be there protecting and watching them.

Bodies crumble and fall to the floor as the four men are relentless and merciless, nothing but headshots as they skillfully maneuver and evade the returned fire.  Hiding and dodging the rain of gunfire, each man ends up partially hiding behind some sort of object as they smartly aim for the guards that attempt to enter the premises, dropping them before they can step foot in.

The unlikely group manage to shoot their way out of the front of the library, the previously nosy crowd scrambling and running for their lives amongst the gunfire.

“Come on!” Dwayne guides and ushers them toward the SUV after the last cop is dropped, nothing but bleeding, deceased corpses surrounding them. “We need to get the fuck out of here before they send more.”

“He’s not coming with us,” Roman growls, ripping the front door open.

“Yes, he is,” Dwayne protests, earning a look that would absolutely kill, if possible, from his younger cousin. “Look, we need to find out just what—”

Cody, however, is not here for it just as much as the Tribal Chief isn’t. “I’m not going anywhere with you pieces of—” An abrupt interruption followed by his body starting to crumple, only to reveal a bored and irritated looking Matteo, clearly having done them all a favor with a single, effective knock to the back of the head.

The Italian man curses. “He talks too damn much.” Matteo doesn’t waste any time in shoving Cody’s unconscious body into the back of the car, directing to Dwayne. “We need to go to my house.”

“Why?” Roman asks, partially present, mostly elsewhere. So much has happened in under the span of an hour, even more in just the past twenty minutes. And the thought that keeps booming in his head, keeps oscillating, poking and torturing him is the most unbelievable and terrifying of them all.

Solana has been taken. 

His wife, who he swore to protect with everything in him, has been taken.

And though nothing would bring him greater joy than to beat Rhodes to a bloody pulp until he fesses up where she is, Matteo and Dwayne are right.

It doesn’t make sense.

Rhodes is an evil son of a bitch, but he’s not stupid. He would never make such a risky move and follow up with a public appearance. He’d make sure to throw that stone and hide the hell out of his hands. Even more, there’s something to be said about the fact that Rhodes wife and child have also been taken.

Something tells Roman the blonde bitch isn’t lying about that. The feral, almost devastated look in his eyes revealed as much.

It’s the same look Roman’s had since realizing what’s happened.

“We’re being hunted down and targeted,” Matteo answers as the four men are in the vehicle, Dwayne driving them to what Roman would guess is Matteo’s house. “They’re more than likely to have gone after my wife as well.”

Dwayne chuckles darkly. “Their death wish.”

Roman is once again tuned out, eyes closed, forehead against the window of the SUV. 

Solana.

His sweet, innocent wife who he just saw hours earlier, who was excited about sharing so many things with him this evening, is gone. 

Taken.

Kidnapped.

Missing. 

How did this happen?

“What the fuck is going on?” Ava’s confused, irritated, angry voice rips Roman from his thoughts, as he realizes it’s coming through the speakers of the SUV. Dwayne, who’s driving them now to Matteo’s house, has called her. 

“You were attacked.” A statement, not a question from Dwayne. He then jumps to an absolute question, “you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” A bit of a frazzled response, the anger coming down and settling into more of reality setting in. “My place is a disaster, but I guess that’s a given with all the dead bodies.”

A bit of a grim visual for the Tribal Chief, though he finds himself both pleased and unsurprised. Though Ava keeps a bit of a distance from the dark side of the business, much like everyone else in his family, she can defend herself. 

She can defend herself very well.

“Someone needs to answer my question though,” she interrupts, the anger building back up again. “Why the hell did our men attack me?”

“It’s a coup,” Roman speaks for the first time, gaze focused outside the window, watching the passing cars. “Someone’s trying to overthrow me.” No emotion attached. Just laying of the facts. Until the next thing that comes out of his mouth. “They’ve—they’ve taken Solana.”

Silence on the other end. “What?” A heavy, shaky sigh. “Oh my God….”

Roman closes his eyes. The sentiment is shared.

More than anyone could ever realize.

“Ava, where are you?” She shares an approximate location, as she’s also driving around, trying to put as much distance between herself and her home. “I need you to listen to me carefully.” Dwayne grabs his phone, expertly navigating the device in his hand and the steering wheel in the other. “I just sent you an address. I need you to go straight there. Don’t text, call or talk to a single fucking soul. Only answer your phone if it’s me, Matteo, or Roman. You understand me?”

“Got it.” The most affirmative her voice has sounded in the entire call. “But, what—”

“Wait.” Another interruption from Roman. Dwayne has just set his phone back down as he glances between the road and his cousin. Roman directs his next statement to Ava. “I need you to stop somewhere first.”

—-----

Pain.

That’s the first thing Solana feels as she slowly blinks her eyes, coming to. It’s a sensation that’s focalized in her wrists, face, and the back of her head. Throbbing and stinging in three separate areas. Sensations that dominate her wherewithal as she slowly ascends to consciousness. Eyes now completely open, she blinks a couple times, an almost old, stale odor invading her senses. Frowning and scowling, Solana looks around, recognizing the almost abrasiveness against her cheek. The floor. It’s from the aged, concrete flooring. And, the difficulty she has in sitting up is mostly due to the fact that her hands are bound in front of her with zip ties that are digging into her skin, small specks of scraped and bloodied skin visible as she assesses the tight hold.

Slight panic builds up in her from being restrained and unable to feel her belly. Touch her baby bump. A self-soothing gesture that will help alleviate her nerves regarding the safety of her babies. But, she can’t. Bound and restricted, she’s delegated to a sort of common sense train. The only solace in her stemming from the fact that she feels no pain or discomfort anywhere near her abdominal area.

That’s one issue somewhat tackled.

But, there’s so many more left.

And, they all come rushing into her with the devastating weight and depth of a category 5 hurricane.

The library. Brandi and Emma. The invasion of both Nightmare and Bloodline men alike. Solo. Bron.

Tears fill her eyes. 

Sami

Bautista 

Dead.

The children whose fate she can only hope was different from the two men who so bravely risked and lost their lives trying to save others.

Roman.

That’s when the tears threaten to spill over, and Solana has to work harder than she ever has in her life to keep it together. 

He’s fine. 

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

She has to tell herself this. Can believe nothing else. Because, anything else is surely enough to drag her to the inescapable depths of emotional hell.

She’s certain she’ll concede to the nervous breakdown she’s on the verge of from what’s happened alone if she allows herself to think about something happening to her soulmate.

Sitting up and looking around, Solana does her best to pull from and implement some of her therapy skills. She’s a mess right now, and while anyone in her situation would be and feel just the same, Solana doesn’t have that luxury. She doesn’t have that luxury because of the two lives growing inside her. 

She has to keep it together.

For her girls.

Like her life depends on it. 

Because their lives depend on it.

The room she’s in is old, dark, shabby, and dreary. A cot is in the corner with a raggedy blanket, but outside of that and a rusty looking desk and chair on the other side, there’s nothing else. Nothing but the dark, heavy looking door that’s shut and the window above her that informs her it’s daytime, given the natural sunlight that shines through.

It doesn’t make a difference.

There’s no sun or anything sunny about what’s occurred.

Only darkness.

Solana is searching and looking around the room, eager and almost desperate for anything that could distract her from how broken she feels when a sound startles her.

It’s coming from across her. 

The door.

Fear partially paralyzes her as she watches the knob turn, her breath withheld, gaze focused as a figure appears in the doorway, almost entirely eclipsing anything beyond said door with their robust figure.

And just like that, fear gradually chips away and is built up with a new set of emotions.

Confusion and anger.

Solana can’t look away, her voice barely above a breath, as she speaks from the heart. From visceral emotion. “You son of a bitch….”

Rikishi's expression is smug. “You’re up.” A generic, calm, almost friendly acknowledgement. Solana catches a glimpse of the guards behind him departing, shutting the door for him, leaving the two of them alone. She can’t, won’t look away as he moves to sit at the rinky-dink chair in the corner of the room. “Can I get you anything?” The cruel, taunt in the wake of his smirk only spikes her anger to another level.

She sneers, appalled, shocked, disgusted, horrified. “You’re behind this.” 

Rikishi’s smile deepens. “Surprise.”

Solana feels sick. “Where is my husband?” It’s just one of many questions she has, but the location—and status—of her husband is the most important. 

Rikishi chuckles. “You mean is he still alive?” The delay in his answer is the longest 30 seconds of Solana’s life. “Yes, Roman still lives.” As much as she hates showing her relief at his answer, she can’t help it. Should she believe him? Probably not. He could be lying. He’s obviously a lying snake, but in this moment, she needs to believe him. She needs to believe that her husband is still alive.

She needs the hope.

“For now, at least.” And just like that, the hope is dashed, dread filling her. “It’s only a matter of time before he shows up, guns blazing because we took his precious little wife.” Rikishi's sick, demented smile returns. “And, then we’ll have him right where we want him.”

There’s something about the ‘we’ that triggers something for her, makes her curious as to just how deep this betrayal goes, but the priority is rather on something else implied in his statement. A cruel, terrifying realization. 

“A trap,” she whispers, the color almost draining from her face. “It’s…it’s a trap.”

They’ve taken her to draw out Roman.

To trap him.

Solana shakes her head, refusing, unable to believe him. To listen to him. “He won’t—he won’t fall for it.” No. Roman is too smart for that.

“You really are a stupid girl, aren’t you?” Rikishi laughs, humor nowhere to be found in the sound that leaves his rotund body. “Of course, he will. Roman can’t see or think straight when it comes to you. He’ll show up here, alone, outnumbered, thinking he’s going to save you—”

Solana’s eyes water. “No.”

“And, he’ll be alone, because we’ve swept the rug from under him. He knows he can’t trust his own Bloodline anymore, and that’s gotta be killing him right about now. That and the fact that his weak little wife has been taken. He’s not thinking straight.”

She whimpers, eyes closing, tears streaming. “Stop it.”

“And who does he have left? Fucking Dwayne and a brother he refuses to acknowledge?” Rikishi snorts. “He has nothing.” He tilts his head to the side, pride filling him seeing the toll his words are taking on the young girl. “And really, as much as it’s your fault, in that same breath, we also have you to thank for this.” Rikishi leans forward in the chair, shrugging one shoulder. “Sure, you fucked up with the original plan—”

Solana’s eyes shoot open. "What?” When he says nothing, she has to ask again, all the while hating how destroyed she sounds. “What—what are you talking about?”

Delight fills his face. “Where do you think your father got the plan from in the first place for you to kill Roman?” Solana might as well have been shoved and slammed into the wall behind her. It would have the same impact as his words. “It was all supposed to be so much more simpler than this, really. You wouldn’t even have had to get close enough to gain his trust. Didn’t need it. Just slip the poison in his food.” The bile building up in Solana’s throat is on the verge of morphing into vomit. “But, of course, my little cousin had to throw us for a loop. He cut off your contact with your family, so we had no idea what was going on….until we did.”

She wants to say something, anything, but words seem a thing no longer accessible for her, prompting him to continue.

“I could see it. The way he started to feel something for you. To care for you.” Disgust is his countenance. “Love.” But, just as quickly as he was disgusted, he’s gleeful. “And then a new opportunity was presented. A first. Because for the first time, the great Roman Reigns had a weakness.” She closes her eyes. “So, a new plan was formed. One that would finally uproot that arrogant son of a bitch from his throne and allow a new era. A better one.”

Solo. 

She’s a terrible mess of emotions, but that one indication is baffling to her. Does he really think Solo is fit to lead the Bloodline? But, it’s a short-lived thing, because what gnaws at her is his accusation. A truthful statement, if she’s being honest with herself.

She has become Roman’s weakness. The one way to get to him, and it’s worked.

It’s worked to a depressing T.

Solana is still filled with so many questions, but a single word sits at the tip of her tongue, spilling over. “Why?” That’s the part she can’t seem to grasp. This plan has clearly been in the makes for months, so it can’t be because of what happened after Fetu’s funeral. So, just what has driven this man to such a diabolical, evil course of action. “Why are you doing this to him? He’s done everything for the Bloodl—”

“He should have never been the one to lead!” Rikishi snaps, banging his fist on the table. “Not Roman. Not Nakoa. None of them!” He continues, Solana remembering that Nakoa was Roman’s father. “It should have been me and my sons. And, it would have, if he had just died like the rest of them that night.”

It’s then. In that moment, with that one telling, revealing statement, Solana puts the devastating, heartbreaking pieces together. “Oh my God….” Her eyes are traveling everywhere before setting on evil personified. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Rikishi lifts his chin, an almost unspoken acknowledgment. “You….you were behind the hit?”

Calling it a 'hit’ seems too minimizing. Massacre. It was a massacre.

Rikishi simply huffs. “I simply made Dusty aware that Nakoa planned to turn on him. The idiot was too stupid and fearful of losing his growing empire to realize it was all lies. Such a weak ass man. It was far too easy to plant the seeds. I just had to watch them grow.”

“Oh my God…” Solana repeats, as a new wave of tears builds up. Rikishi. He was the one behind it all. The reason Roman lost his family, and almost his life. It was because of his own flesh and blood. 

The same flesh and blood behind the most current attempt to take out her husband once more. To put him down.

For good this time.

“I won’t—I won’t let you hurt him,” she vows, shaking her head. She looks up, matching his dark, evil gaze. “I won’t.” Because he’s already caused her husband so much hurt, so much pain, it feels almost criminal for her to not do what she can to stop that. To save him.

A small smile followed by a laugh. Loud and hearty. “Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.” Rikishi stands up, walking over to her, Solana refusing to look away or cower, even as he bends over. “What are you gonna do? Huh?” Solana gasps loudly from the sudden, unexpected impact of his hand against her face. Her eyes clench shut from the stinging and throbbing. “You are nothing without Roman or the Bloodline.” His eyes burn with intense hatred and disgust, watching and enjoying how Solana struggles to lift her head. “You’re going to die just like him—”

She cries. “no.”

Solana winces when he grabs her by her jaw, squeezing, forcing her to look at him. “—but while Roman will leave a sort of legacy behind him, what will you have? Huh? Nothing!” He screams in her face, Solana closing her eyes, trying her best to block out his hurtful words. “You’ll have nothing, because you are nothing. We found you as a stupid, uneducated, naive, weak, broken bitch, and that’s exactly how you’ll die.”

—------------

It’s strategic. All of it. Necessary.

Parking a little up the road from where Matteo’s house sits, almost nestled back into a corner, surrounded by trees in the back. A forest of sorts. A forest that serves as the shielding used by the men who realize what idiocy comes with trying to pull up to the front of the house, especially given the SUV’s already parked out front.

Bloodline vehicles.

Once a good thing, now an omen.

Naturally, Matteo leads the charge, knowing the layout of his property better than the other two men, especially Roman who’d never been here prior to today.

A still unconscious Cody is left locked in the SUV. Not that Roman cares. Behind the kidnapping or not, that son of a bitch could drop dead for all the Tribal Chief cares.

Nonverbal communication and hand gestures as the three men smartly make their way into the home from the back. As they move inside, ready and prepared for whatever, it’s almost anti-climatic. Because, for Roman, at least, there’s a slight expectation for some Bloodline security to try to attack them.

Except, entering the spacious foyer of Matteo’s home, what they’re met with is a scene similar to the library. Bodies laid around. 12. Roman counts twelve. Each with a minimum of one gunshot wound. Execution style. Throats slashed. A few with obvious stab wounds in the chest.

In the heart.

“And, I’d just mopped these damn floors, too.” The sound of a voice, bored and feminine, draws the attention of the three men. Sitting down on the middle of the steps is none other than a dangerously calm looking Afia. Gun in one hand, bloody butcher knife in the other, the only indication she has of being involved in any sort of altercation is the splotches of blood splashed on her shirt and the weapons on her person. “I’m also offended they only sent twelve. I deserve at least twenty.”

Dwayne and Roman lower their guns, surveying the deceased once more to make sure they are, in fact, no longer among the living. Matteo is the first to respond, chuckling as he lowers his gun. “I suppose that’s the reason for the overkill, no?”

Afia makes a sound, rising from off the stairs where she stands, still with the gun and knife in hand. Her eyes are narrowed. Listening Watching. Waiting.

Once pleased and satisfied that the threats have all been eliminated, she responds. 

“The overkill is because they chose the wrong damn house.” A vicious statement accompanied by a murderous gleam in her eyes. “One of you want to tell me why?”

Matteo has other pressing concerns. “The children—”

“In the panic room,” she answers, seeing the relief cross his handsome face. “They’re safe.”

Roman looks away. He’d give anything for that to be the case with Solana right now.

“It’s a coup,” Dwayne answers, looking around, as if suspecting another onslaught of attacks. “Someone’s trying to overthrow Roman.”

“I think it’s more than just an overthrow,” Afia corrects, walking over and kicking one of the men so he’s on his back. She points down. “Is that not the insignia of the Bloodline?” A rhetorical question. She doesn’t need anyone to tell her what she already knows. “This is an inside job.” She directs her statement to Roman. “You’ve been betrayed.”

Words that he doesn’t need to hear. A realization Roman came to the minute he realized his men were about to turn their guns on him back at the library.

A weighty, heavy thing, but nothing that anchors him down as much as the next thing that comes out his mouth. “Solana’s been kidnapped.”

And, at that, Afia gives the first indication of any type of emotion. “What?” Roman looks away. “Well, we have to get her back—”

“We will,” Matteo assures. “We just need to sit down and figure out the how.”

“And, we need to get the hell out of here,” Dwayne’s expression is a little more pressing, as he continues to look around. Watchful. Cautious. “I have a place we can go. It’ll be safe. They won’t be able to find us.” 

Afia nods, Matteo and her disappearing to go retrieve the children from the panic room.  It’s when he’s alone with his cousin for the first time, Dwayne voices what he knows his younger cousin is thinking.

“Roman….” The other man is turned away, looking down, taking in the state and amount of deceased that surrounds them. “This isn’t your fault—”

“Yes, it is.” A pained, quiet, angry interruption. Dwayne watches the way Roman’s jaw clenches, how his eyes shut and his fist forms at his side. “I should have—I should have seen this coming.”

And, for the life of him, Roman doesn’t know how he didn’t. He’s always prided himself on being three, five, hell, even ten steps ahead. It’s how he’s stayed on top for so long, never giving his enemies the opportunity to advance on him. And now, everything he’s built, everything he’s worked for is crumbling down right in front of him.

And, he doesn’t mean the Bloodline.

“We always prepare for threats from the outside, uce. Not the inside—”

“But, I should have.” Another interruption as Roman turns to his cousin, the turmoil that eats him up loud and evident. “I’m supposed to be better than that. I should have been, but I wasn’t and now—”

“Hey.” Dwayne places a hand on his shoulder, forcing his distressed gaze on him. 

“She’s pregnant, Dwayne….”

“I know.” His voice is contrite and sympathetic, recognizing that it’s not just Solana Roman fears for. It’s for their children she’s carrying that, he prays with everything in him, is something she knows to keep hidden from her kidnappers. By whatever means necessary. “But, let me tell you something about that wife of yours, uce. She’s got some fire in her. If anyone can handle this, can manage until we can get to her, it’s Solana.”

As objectively reassuring as Dwayne’s words are, they don’t do much to abate the fear and nerves of the Tribal Chief.

Because Roman has a nagging, almost gut-like feeling that someone isn’t making it out of this alive, and he doesn’t care if it’s him. 

He’ll just be damned if it’s her.

And, if he is the one to fall, he’s dragging every son of a bitch involved with this coup with him to the gates of hell.

—------

Solana knows exactly the last time she felt this way.

Heavy. 

Hurting. 

Hopeless. 

It was the night of her second suicide attempt.

In this moment, she doesn’t feel suicidal. Has no desire to take her own life. She just feels a tremendous, overwhelming amount of grief. Grief at what occurred then, what’s about to occur, and what still remains to occur.

It’s all so devastating. 

Solana knows evil. Was raised by it for a good chunk of her life. But, there’s just something she can’t fathom about Rikishi being able to parade himself as this trusted advisor to Roman, an ally, a friend, a cousin, all the while knowing he was responsible for the vicious murder of Roman’s family.

That he also tried to kill Roman once but failed.

And, now he’s trying again.

That makes her cry a little harder. Maybe a lot harder. It goes back to that helplessness, the suffocating feeling of having all of this information and no way to get it to him. To provide him with the truth, to give him a warning, something, but none of it is an option. It’s not an option, because she has no idea where she is and no way to contact him or anyone. Hands still bound, she doesn’t need them to feel in her back pocket to see her phone is no longer there.

Most likely taken or fell out at some point during her kidnapping.

Again, hopeless.

Solana jumps once more when the door is swung open with so much force that it slams against the wall behind it. She’s ready and prepared for Rikishi to enter, only for it to not be him and someone else. Two people. One she recognizes, and the other she does not. It's a tall white man with an intimidating, muscular build, ropes of muscles for arm. But, it's not his physique that makes Solana nervous. It's the way his bright blue eyes settle on her. Predatory. It sends chills down her spine, an uneasy feeling overcoming Solana, forcing her to focus on the person she knows.

Brandi.

But, whatever discomfort she’d felt from the man’s unsettling stare is quickly replaced with an overwhelming amount of dread and horror taking in the appearance of Emma's mother. Brandi’s face is bruised, her lip busted, and her clothes are disheveled, but it’s the empty, almost dazed look in her eyes that Solana knows all too well.

And the realization is crushing. 

Solana gasps when the man just tosses Brandi down onto the floor, offering a look of disgust to the woman he just discarded as if she was trash and a look of nothing good to Solana. However, it’s not until he slams the door shut behind him that Solana does her best to get up, an almost impossible task with her baby bump as well as her wrists still being bound.

“Brandi….”

Solana watches how Brandi offers no sign of acknowledgment, just crawls over to the nearest wall and pulls her legs up to her chest, a sign of pain flashing across her battered face as she settles into a fetal position.

Solana’s chest tightens. She knows exactly what Brandi is feeling right now. Numb. It’s a numbness that feels like everything and nothing at the same time, a deep, guttural scream lying within the confines of shock from trauma.

A trauma Solana knows all too well.

“Brandi, please—”

“Just leave me alone.” A whispered, pained thing. Empty and hollow.

Solana swallows. “I–”

“This is all your fault.”

Five words. A simple sentence. One hell of an impact.

The tightening in Solana’s chest only intensifies, just as the tears brewing threaten to spill down her face for the umpteenth time today. “Wh–what?”

It’s only then that Brandi looks up, that hollowness replaced with indescribable anger. And pain. “I’m here because of you.” Her bottom lip trembles as she lifts one hand, pointing to the door. “My baby is somewhere out there because of you.” Her volume increases as she gestures to herself with a trembling hand. “I was just rap—” Her eyes close, her entire body shaking as she breaks out in sobs, hands covering her face. 

And, in that moment, while Solana’s heart swells with a tremendous amount of empathy, of heartbreaking understanding.

She can do nothing else, she can say nothing else.

Because, Brandi isn’t entirely wrong.

She’s not entirely wrong at all.

—----------

It’s about 45 minutes into the drive that Roman realizes where Dwayne is taking them all, and initially, he’s irritated, not necessarily because of where they’re going and more because of the fact that they have to go there.

In hiding.

Because, they are.

Because, they no longer know who to trust.

Roman no longer knows who to trust.

After driving for a total of almost two hours, they arrrive at their destination.

Roman steps out of the parked SUV at the same time as Dwayne. Out the corner of his eye, he sees Matteo and Afia helping the children out the Escalade that they drove. 

“Well, ya’ll look like shit.” 

Beer in hand, bid body leaning against the pillar on his porch, Steve Austin’s gaze is assessing and judgmental. Typical for the man whose attitude could only be matched by his ferocity in the field.

A legendary mercenary who worked closely with Dwayne many years ago on countless assignments and missions but is now semi-retired working as a private firearm dealer.

Dwayne chuckles, taking the first step onto said porch. “We’ve seen better days.” His small smile morphs into something almost regretful. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Steve makes a sound, brushing off the unnecessary indirect apology. “All the times you saved my ass when we were out there young, dumb, hotheads? Don’t mention it.” He directs his attention then to Roman, also looking something close to repentant. “Real sorry to hear about what’s happening.”

Roman says nothing. What does someone being and feeling sorry for him do?

Not a damn thing.

The door to the house busts open, revealing a flustered Ava who has a slight cut on her eyebrow. Her focus immediately lands on Roman, who she makes a beeline over, pulling him into a hug.

“We’re gonna get her back,” she whispers in his ear, holding him close and tight.

Again, nothing is said. 

He’d give anything to feel that way, because right about now, Roman can’t deny the helpless feeling building and budding inside of them.

He does have to ask, trailing off, “did you….”

Ava nods. “She’s upstairs sleeping.”

Roman nods.

One.

That’s one thing he can feel slightly relieved about.

Dulce.

Dulce is safe, Roman asking Ava to pick her up from the groomers, because Solana being kidnapped is one thing, but he’ll be damned if he lets anything happen to her dog who she loves more than anything.

The same dog he can admit, only to himself, he also loves.

Just then, the backdoor opens as a just-now-coming-to Rhodes exits, looking just as lost as he probably feels. Hand to the back of his head, he asks no one in particular. “Where the hell am I?”

Ava looks over at Cody with an undeniable amount of anger. Her gaze and question is then set to Roman. “What the hell is he—”

“It’s a long story,” he dismisses, asking Steve. “Can we come in?”

Finishing off his beer—probably the third of the day—he tosses it with zero regard. “Well, I sure as hell ain’t gon’ make ya’ll stand out here looking like a bunch of dumbasses.”

The group make their way into the house, Steve granting them privacy and Ava offering to take the kids upstairs with snacks and drinks so they also don’t have to overhear what’s bound to be a heavy conversation.

“So, what do we know?” Afia asks as the lot of them surround Steve’s large dining room table, Dwayne sitting at said table with his laptop open, attempting to access the Bloodline database.

A fruitless effort, given the quiet curse that leaves his mouth and the flashing red from the screen. Roman has never been tech savvy, but he knows enough to know that’s never a good sign.

“Solana, Brandi Rhodes, and Emma Rhodes, Brandi and Cody’s daughter were all kidnapped earlier this afternoon at the local library where Solana works and mother and daughter were visiting for some reason.” Matteo supplies, looking over at Cody. “Is it normal for her to go there—”

“No,” Cody answers immediately, pacing back and forth. “And, I don’t know why the hell she was there in the first place. I know….I know she went a couple months ago, and somehow Emma got separated from her, but from what Brandi told me, Solana found Emma and helped her find—”

“Wait, what?” Roman would like nothing more to kill Cody. For one reason. For no reason. For all the reasons. There’s a river of red and blood that’s too deep, too thick for them to ever see eye to eye, so it’s safe to say the Tribal Chief wasn’t listening to a damn thing the man was saying until he got to that part. “What do you mean Solana found her? They know each other?”

Cody looks over, shaking his head. “I don’t know specifics. Just that Brandi told me Solana helped Emma get back to her, and that Emma…she really liked her.” his voice trails off, his gaze focusing on the wall adjacent to him, emotion bubbling. He clears his throat, clearly remembering where he is and who he’s talking to. “I told her never to go back there after that, so for the life of me, I can’t figure out why she went back.”

Roman is quiet, not giving two shits about why the fuck Rhodes’ wife went against his orders and is more concerned with why and how Solana never told him about this. How no one in her security detail never thought to tell him.

How Solo, who was probably still her personal guard at the time, never said a thing.

And as if listening, a beep sounds from the computer.

"What is it?" Matteo inquires.

"It's a video conference request," Dwayne answers. He looks over at Roman. "From Solo."

Something unknown but heavy laps at Roman, an almost eerie knowing, as he mutters a quiet but firm. "Answer it."

Dwayne does just that, jabbing the button on the laptop, the group all waiting for the video to load.

And, then it does.

“Son of a bitch….” Is Dwayne’s hissed response at the sight of several men standing behind one man who sits in the middle, dressed in an all black suit with a red ula fala around his neck.

Solo.

It’s Solo.

But, he’s not alone, because Roman recognizes four of the men behind him.

Tama, Tonga, Jacob, and Rikishi.

All his family. 

All currently behind the violent siege underway.

“I’m going to fucking rip you to pieces,” Roman vows, hand fisting at his side as, in a matter of mere seconds, he went from feeling an array of emotions to just one.

Anger.

Nothing but anger.

All of them. 

He’s going to kill every single fucking one of them. Slowly. Painfully. Methodically. In every brutal, grisly way that he can think of.

Solo smirks, lifting his chin. “Roman Reigns.” A formal acknowledgement tinged with a hint of humor. “I think you’ve seen better days.”

Roman takes no one by surprise when the anger courses through his body manifests in him screaming out, “where is she!”

Rikishi makes a tsk tsk tsk sound. “You never were good with patience, huh?”

“Cut the shit, you two,” Dwayne practically growls, both him and Matteo doing their best to study the background to try to get some sense of where he might be located. The fucker is smart though, as it seems there’s some sort of black draping, intended to shield from that sort of detection. “Where’s Solana?”

Cody also cuts in with similar sentiments as Roman. “Where’s Brandi and Emma!”

Solo rolls his eyes. “That’s a question for your lil’ cousin, Rhodes.”

At that, Roman sees the way Cody’s face pales. “Bron?” And then, the anger. “Bron is behind this?”

“They both are,” Roman states, teeth gritted, putting the pieces together in real time. “They’ve been working together.”

Solo’s smirk confirms as such. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Why both the Bloodline and Nightmare Factory men turned on both him and Cody back at the library. An alliance of some sort has been formed between the former enforcers. 

“Roman isn’t fit to lead the Bloodline anymore,” Solo growls, fist on the table before him. “We need new leadership. It just so happened Bron felt the same about the Nightmare Factory."

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Roman snarls. “You can’t trust a fucking Rhodes!”

Solo’s smile is nothing shut of evil, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Just like you couldn’t trust us, huh?”

A blow.

It’s a fucking blow to the gut. To the chest. To the soul. Because Solo is right in that.

Roman couldn’t trust him, but he did, and it’s potentially cost him everything.

“But, aye, I’m a generous Tribal Chief, so imma do you a favor.” He stands up, gesturing for whoever is filming to follow him. “Come on.”

A maniacal laugh sounds from behind the camera, and in that single second, the situation progresses from bad to worse.

Roman would know that sound anywhere, but it’s an equally pissed Rhodes who identifies the person. “Seth...”

Roman’s eyes shut. Of course. Of course, they would recruit him for this. That psychotic son of a bitch has no love for Roman nor Cody, believing himself a “victim” and “abandoned” by both of them. Roman’s caution is upped a notch with this new piece of information.

Seth is the definition of a wild card. Whatever role he plays in this whole thing can’t be minimized nor downplayed.

They’re moving down a dimly lit hall, and Roman can see out of the corner of his eye Afia taking notes, clearly trying to document as much of the space as possible. Trying to narrow down a potential location.

Helpful but maybe not necessary.

Solo finally arrives in a dingy looking room that’s filled with more of Roman's men, his former Bloodline, armed and ready.

But then, Roman’s world shatters. 

“Solana…”

He sees her. Solana. She’s alive, but her face is red and bruised, a cut on her cheek, dried blood caked on her pretty skin. He searches her body for any other sign of injury, but it’s impossible to do so given the oversized hoodie, jeans, and sneakers she wears.

He has no idea how to know about….about the girls.

It kills him.

But, that’s nothing compared to when he realizes just what’s happening. She’s being dragged by her hair into the room where fucking Tama throws her to the ground, Solana landing on her palms.

“You asked for her, right?” Solo mocks, a cruel grin on his face. “Here she is.” He barks at Tama to pick her back up. “Aye, Solana, you remember that?” 

The camera switches from the scene of Solana being yanked up once again by her hair to a medium large stainless steel bucket that Roman can see is filled with water. Instantly, he knows what’s about to happen.

“I swear to God, Solo, if you—” He’s stopped by the camera panning to Solana who was clearly looking in the direction of the camera, probably hearing his voice, but now it’s directed toward her.

Catches the moment she sees the bin and also knows what's about to occur.

“No.” Her eyes are wide and filled with fright that practically cripples him. “No!” Solana cries, instantly moving to try to break free as Tama leads her over to the bucket. “No, please!”

“Solo, please—” Roman finds himself begging almost. He doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll do whatever it takes. Because Solana being subjected to that, to the torture she worked so hard to escape, it kills him. His pride doesn’t exist in that moment.

“What kind of weak man goes after an innocent woman, huh?” Matteo barks, the anger felt amongst the group of them nothing compared to the pain that fills Roman.

He was supposed to protect her.

He promised to protect her.

And now, look.

He’s failed her.

He’s failed her just like he failed his family.

Soalna’s screams and cries haunt him, Roman preparing to plead, whatever it takes, when a new voice is heard.

“Aye! What you doing, man!”

Chills. 

No.

The day’s events must be taking their toll on Roman, because there’s no way—

And then, he sees it.

Sees how the camera pans to a furious looking Jey who grabs Tama, punching him out and putting himself between Solana and their cousin. Solana scrambles away to the nearest wall, eyes closed, hand over her chest, obviously trying to settle her nerves.

“What the hell is this, Solo!” Jey shouts as Tonga restrains Tama from striking back. “You ain’t say it was gonna be all of this! I ain’t sign up for this shit!”

There’s a rush of emotions running through Roman in this moment for a variety of reasons. He can hear the shocked, angry responses of those around him, see how Solo chides his older brother for being so “weak,” but all of that pales in comparison to how Roman’s chest tightens seeing Solana scream out in fear when Jey moves toward her.

“Don’t touch me!” She shouts, shaking her head. “How—how could you do this to us?” She sounds every bit as hurt and betrayed as he feels. “How could you do this to Roman?”

The same question probably shared amongst the group helplessly watching the horrors unfold. 

“God, you're so goddamn annoying."

A new voice added to the conversation.

Also, not unfamiliar.  

Samantha appears in frame, but she’s not alone. She’s roughly holding the arm of a young, crying child. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together to figure out who said child is.

Cody’s shoulders drop. “Emma!”

Emma is crying, face red and ruddy. “Where’s my mommy!” She cries harder when Samantha tosses her to the ground. “I want my daddy!” 

It’s a gut-wrenching scene to watch, for sure, but while a devastated Cody tries to gather the attention of his terrified daughter, Roman can only focus and watch as Solana gets up and rushes over to Emma, holding and cradling her.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she comforts. Roman sees the way Emma holds onto her, clearly feeling safe with his wife. A strange, almost solemn scene. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

A sneering Sam advances over to Solana and Emma, but Solana is quick, easily maneuvering Emma behind her.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Solana hisses, shoulders squared, voice firm. It’s a bit of a shift for Roman, something close to surprise and pride filling him. It’s such a switch. The fear that had Solana cowered in the corner is nowhere to be seen as she puts herself between this child who she doesn’t even know, not well anyway, and a woman clearly intent on no good.

Samantha scoffs, stepping forward. “Move.” A sick smirk appears on her face as she lifts up a folding knife, effectively stilling the Tribal Chief. Fuck. “Or maybe I’ll just do us all a favor and kill you now.”

Roman isn’t sure what he expects his wife to do. He just knows that it kills him to have to watch all of this unfold and not do anything about it.

Not be able to protect her.

And then, it happens. Almost too quick. Solana’s speed seems to defy logic. Her forearm against Samantha’s neck, throwing her off balance, forcing her to drop the knife that Solana doesn’t hesitate to grab. And with continued swiftness, Solana suddenly has the upper hand. She’s holding Samantha’s arms behind her back, the knife in Solana’s hand pressed dangerously into her back, possibly drawing blood given the wince on Sam’s face.

Mouth near her ear, Solana hisses, loud enough for all to hear. “I’d like to see you try, bitch.”

She shoves and kicks her away, expertly retracting the knife that disappears in the sleeve of her hoodie. 

Impressed isn’t exactly the right word to use to describe what Roman feels. There’s nothing impressive about what’s happening, but a small sense of relief does build in him in seeing that even in this midst of what’s happened, Solana hasn’t lost it.

Hasn’t lost that fight and fire she’s worked so hard over the past months to build.

“You got this, Sol…” Afia whispers, loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t give up.”

A shared sentiment. 

But, as Samantha gets up and prepares to lunge for Solana, Jey once again stands in front of Solana who continues to protect Emma.

“You ain’t putting your fucking hands on her.”

Words that Roman would like to find reassuring, but he can’t. He can’t, because Jey is a part of this whole thing.

He’s clearly picked his side, and it’s not Roman’s.

Solo makes a sound, big face back in the screen. “As you can see, there’s a lot going on.” He blows out a breath, as if overwhelmed by it all. As if this isn’t all his doing. “But look, Imma’ cut right to the point.” There’s movement from Solo walking out the room, camera focused only on him. “You got 48hrs to bring your ass here, so we can settle this once and for all. And to help you out, I’m gon send you the exact coordinates of where we are.” He then adds, as if remembering. “Same goes for your new buddy, Cody.”

It’s a difficult, almost painful thing for Roman to focus on what’s being said when all he can visualize is Solo’s bloody, gruesome corpse after Roman gets his hands on him. But then, he says it, he says what Roman’s emotions have blocked him from considering.

“And, I know you got a lot going on right now, but even you and that big ass ego you got can’t deny you already know how this gon’ turn out.” He rolls his shoulders, voice equally menacing as it is threatening. “Not only have you been outsmarted, but you’re outmanned, outnumbered, outgunned.” He smiles, once again, no trace of humor to be detected. “Who you got there? Dwayne? Matteo? Rhodes?” He laughs, humorlessly. “You have nothing.”

Matteo and Dwayne say something in response, but Roman does not. He says nothing, because there’s nothing to say.

Solo is right.

Roman has been betrayed and turned on by the people closest to him, his Bloodline, maybe even the Cosa Nostra at this point. He doesn’t even fucking know anymore. He just knows, for the first time in his life, he’s been backed into a corner and the way out seems to be a far off, distant, nearly impossible thing.

“....And that’s not just a prediction—” Solo’s statement, familiar and close, snatches Roman away from his depressing realization. He looks off camera, only for another figure to fill the frame, Roman’s devastation deepening.

Paul’s smirking frame takes up the entire shot. “It’s a spoiler.”

The screen goes black.

“Son of a bitc—”

Dwayne’s curse is silence by Roman tipping over a chair as he angrily marches outside the house through the backdoor and into the yard. He throws a nearby chair across the spacious yard, uncaring of any damage or destruction caused in the process.

His chest hurts, and his head throbs, consumed with swimming, overwhelming thoughts.

They’ve betrayed him. Every fucking person he thought he could trust has all turned on him.

They’ve all fucking betrayed him.

Eyes shut, breathing heavy, Roman has to place his hand over his chest to settle himself. It’s too much. 

Too fucking much.

Heavy footsteps behind him give away the person present, but Roman isn’t in the mood.

“Roman….”

“Not right now,” he grits out, on the verge of a panic attack. Or maybe a nervous breakdown. Or, hell, maybe a fucking heart attack. At this point, who fucking knows.

Dwayne sighs. “Roman, you—”

“WHAT!” Roman turns around and snaps. All of the emotions, the happenings, the loss, the betrayal finally bubbling over and erupting. Roman motions to nothing in particular, just the dark abyss of the wooded forest beyond Steve’s backyard. “He has the Bloodline! He has the Nightmare Factory! He has my wife!” It’s with that last acknowledgment Roman’s shoulders slump, the despair taking front row. His voice lowered, he clarifies. “My pregnant wife.” Premature defeat as well as an unfamiliar helplessness fills the devastated man’s voice, as he admits, “I have nothing to lose.”

Dwayne allows it. Allows him the moment to have this. To let it all hit him, heavy and crushing, but necessary, nonetheless. 

Because there’s no way in hell they can survive this with him suppressing all of his feelings.

“That’s bullshit, Roman, and you know it.” Dwayne finally speaks after a few minutes of silence. “You have everything to lose.” Dwayne points back to the house. “He has your wife, yes. He has the backing of the Bloodline. Maybe. But, you know what he doesn’t have? He doesn’t have your mind. He doesn’t have your ruthlessness. Doesn’t have your intellect. Solo’s a little bitch cosplaying as a grown man cause his fat ass daddy has bucked him up to think he’s fit for the job.” Dwayne continues, seeing and knowing his younger cousin well enough to know he’s taking in everything that’s being said. “He thinks he’s won, because he knows what Solana means to you, knows how much you love her, and he thinks it’s made you weak.”

“He’s right.” Matteo’s voice suddenly sounds from the steps leading into the house. “He’s playing a mind game with you.” Stepping down into the yard, he crosses his arms, adding, “he’s clearly been watching you. Studying you.”

When Dwayne gives him the nod of approval, a sign to continue, Matteo doesn’t waste it. “You must have a million and one emotions running through you right now. That’s okay. Hone it and use it. Use it to fuel your anger and your fury, because you’re going to need it to make it through this.”

Eyes shut, words marinating, there’s a settling of the previously spiking panic that’s minimizing and settling into something else inside of Roman. Something powerful and stirring.

“You’ve been betrayed. Clearly. From several angles, and that shit’s gotta hurt like hell coming from family.” Roman looks away. “But, you know as well as I do, that’s not the priority right now. The priority is getting Solana back and reminding those bastards why the biggest and last mistake they’ll ever make in life was crossing Roman fucking Reigns.”

To say this has been the worst day of his life would be an understatement. The worst day of his life would be more than welcomed over whatever this is. Regardless of how awful and hurt and lost Roman feels at all that’s occurred, the wise, sage words of his relatives are effective.

They tap into that part of him that hasn’t been needed in a while. The part of him that he’s always wanted to keep hidden away from Solana. The reason he’s as feared as he is.

Because, it’s needed.

Roman isn’t needed in this moment. Roman needs to rest and recover.

The Tribal Chief is who’s needed.

And, that’s exactly who Solo is going to get.

“We have to play this smart,” is Roman’s only acknowledgment of everything that was stated. He appreciates it, but to go beyond that would require a deeper amount of reflecting. He doesn’t have time for this shit. Doesn’t have time to be Roman Reigns right now. 

They made him into the ruthless, aggressive, merciless killer that he is, and that’s exactly who they’re about to receive.

“They have the numbers advantage,” Roman finishes. Because as lethal as the combination of himself, Dwayne, Matteo, and maybe Afia and Ava could be, it still pales in comparison to not only the Bloodline, but the Nightmare Factory. 

A big advantage.

Dwayne shakes his head. “Maybe not.” Both Matteo and Roman cast skeptical expressions as he vaguely answers. “I may have made a call.”

And just like that, Roman’s defenses are up again. “To who?”

A voice clearing from by the back door sounds, drawing the attention of all three men. It’s Ava. “So, Santos Escobar is here?

Roman easily shifts from cautious to irritated. “What the fuck, Dwayne?”

The older man lifts his hands in an almost defensive manner. “Look, I know you’ve got no love for Escobar, and the feeling is mutual, but you yourself told me he said Solana is also under the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma, so that means they’d be willing to help us.”

But, it mostly goes in one ear and out the other. Stubbornly, almost defiantly, Roman reiterates, “I don’t need his help.”

“Yes, you do, Roman,” Matteo cuts in, his voice almost gentle like. “Like you said, they have the number advantage. We have to try to even that up as much as we can.”

At that, his own words being used against him, Roman has no retort.

He has no retort because that nagging voice inside of him acknowledges that Matteo and Dwayne are right.

If there’s help to be offered, he would be a fool to decline it.

But, it’s almost impossible for him to not be chained down by both his pride and his trauma at once again being betrayed. At being in a place where the same man who he once thought he’d lay down his life for if the situation called for it, is working with the people hellbent on seeing Roman’s demise.

Solo and Rikishi’s betrayal is crushing.

Jey’s is shattering.

And Roman isn’t stupid. He knows how tense things with Jey have been, maybe always been to some extent, but this coup has clearly been a well plotted, planned thing for some time. Long before his issues with Jey stirred up again for round two.

When Roman thought they were fine, they weren’t. 

They very clearly weren’t.

Roman turns away, hands on his head as he blows out a deep breath. The battle between logic and trauma in the final round, tussling deep within his chest and soul.

And then a memory hits him, a scene from one of his many dreams rolling him into the battle for a paramount, necessary perspective switch.

Leya sniffles to the left of him. “You have to save her, daddy.”  His head snaps to her, confused by her words, confused by the fact that he’s not freaking out more, by the fact that he just somehow knows that Solana has been taken. “She won’t have much time.”

“Mommy can only fight with us for so long.” His attention switches to Lina, her comment leaving him just as perplexed as her twin. “You’re gonna have to trust them, daddy.”

“What?” He breathes. The weight on his chest is intensifying by the fucking second. “I don’t—”

“It’s the only way to save her.” Leyah reaches for his arm, her little mouth formed into a frown. “They’re gonna kill her if you don’t.”

His chest nearly explodes at that one word.

Kill

But, it’s when the next statement that leaves their mouths, at the same time, that does him over.

“And they’re gonna kill us too.”

The entire flashback to his ominous dream almost nightmare is overall unsettling in many ways, but there’s a certain part he can’t negate, that he can’t ignore.

“You’re gonna have to trust them, daddy.”

Trust.

Such a difficult, impossible thing for Roman, especially when it’s that same thing that has him in the situation he’s in now.

He trusted the wrong people, and now Solana—and his unborn daughters—are paying for it.

Roman closes his eyes.

Utilizing the words from his dream children from an actual dream as a guiding force might not be the best. It might even be crazy to some people, but he’s starting to believe that Solana was right when she said the dreams meant something.

Premonitions, almost. 

Needed for a time like this. 

Because, it’s all he has. 

“Okay.” 

A simple word. 

A powerful agreement.

Matteo and Dwayne exchange a look, neither willing or wanting to say anything to risk Roman backtracking. They simply guide him back into the house where, sure enough, Escobar waits with two men and one women trailing him. Roman recognizes the two men from being at the restaurant that day. 

He also recognizes the woman. 

Bayley.

And, she looks just as gutted as Roman feels. 

“That son of a bitch.” She shakes her head, fist at her side. “What kind of piece of shit goes after an innocent woman?”

Her question is presented to no one in particular. Just a necessary thing she clearly needs to get out, along with an array of other emotions. She angrily wipes at her teary eyes, looking away.

Santos gaze is leveled as he directs his question toward Roman. “Do you have her location?”

Dwayne answers. “Yes. An abandoned plant about two hours out from here.”

The shorter man nods, taking in the information. “Are you sure?”

“Solo sent us the coordinates.” Matteo supplies, already knowing he doesn’t need to say anything else after that. Santos look in response is telling enough. 

Looking directly at Roman, he states aloud, “he wants you to come.” 

Bayley whispers what everyone was thinking when Solo first announced he was sharing the address so willingly. “A trap.”

Roman says nothing. Trap or not, nothing could keep him from going to save his wife. Even if he had to go at it alone.

“Someone wants to speak to you.” Santos appearance was unexpected as hell, but such a statement leaving his mouth is at the top of the unexpected hill. “And, it’s not a request.”

Just like that, the anger is building up again in the Head of the Table. “Excuse me? Who the fuck—”

“Roman.” Matteo’s single word is layered with all the unspoken things. The reminder he needs. Priorities.

Biting his tongue and setting aside his pride, Roman grits out a reluctant, “fine.”

Santos and his men move quickly to set up an open laptop where Dwayne’s once was, motioning for Roman to take the seat previously occupied by his older cousin.

And, in a matter of minutes, the setup is completed. It’s the same crowd gathered around to watch and observe, sans Cody, who’d apparently gone out front.

For similar reasons as Roman, he’d guess.

It’s a similar setup to Solo and crew, but in this one, the background is obvious and visible. They’re in a conference room. A man sitting at the front of the table with another to the right of him, older and a bit heavier. There’s something familiar about him that Roman can’t put his hand on.

Santos speaks in Spanish to the men, and it’s then how Roman notices the improved posture of the latest guests. A sign of respect and reverence for whoever these men are, clearly.

“Roman Reigns,” the one at the head of the table speaks, his deep voice thickly accented. “Not exactly the circumstances under which I’d thought we’d meet, but an honor, nonetheless.”

If only Roman felt the same.

“Who the hell are you?”

But, while the majority of the room hit Roman with disapproving glances at his brusque response, the man on screen simply smiles. “Your reputation precedes you. I’m impressed.”

And, I don’t care.

Roman is just about to snap at Escobar for wasting his time when finally, a proper introduction is given. “My name is Domingo Lopez.” Right away, any trace of irritability felt within Roman is washed away and replaced with a sense of surprise and confusion. 

Roman knows that name very well. Anyone in the business does.

Domingo Lopez.

The head of the Gulf Cartel, the oldest and biggest Mexican criminal syndicate.

The same syndicate Roman has been trying and planning to meet with to discuss a possible alliance with for some weeks now. Months, maybe. But, something had always come up, either on Roman’s end or Lopez's end.

What a meeting, indeed.  

Domingo chuckles. “I take it you know who I am now.”

No shit. The shift in Roman’s tone is audible, even his body language. “I do.”

Domingo sits forward. “And you’re wondering what the hell it is I want with you.” He then gestures to the man beside him. “This is Tomas Escobar. Old man has served the Cartel for decades. A loyal aid to my father before he retired and a trusted guide for me since I took over so many years ago at the age of 18. Similar to yourself.” Roman is focused less on the connections and more the name.

He knows that name.

It was in the letter Solana let him read. The one from her mother. 

Tomas Escobar.

Her uncle.

Tomas is Solana’s great uncle.

And judging now by the slight similarities in appearance, Santos' father.

Still, making all of these connections is something Roman keeps to himself, instead asking a more relevant question that comes out as more of a statement. “You’re aware of what’s happened.”

Domingo nods. “I am.” He leans back into his seat. Roman would guess Santos informed his father, and his father made his boss aware. But, why?

“Normally, I would allow a select number of men to aid in this rescue effort you plan to undergo. Whatever men and resources within the Legado Del Fantasma would be your limit, but….but this is different.” He clasps his hands together, acknowledging. “Tomas has served me well, and Santos has also proven to be an effective leader. But, the truth of the matter is that what I am prepared to do is solely because of your wife, Mr. Reigns.”

Brows furrowed, Roman doesn’t hesitate to ask. “What do you mean?” 

“A few months ago, during your trip to Isla Mujeres, you and your wife met my daughter, Aurora.” Roman stills, instantly recalling the quiet little girl who’d taken a liking to him but especially Solana.

Shit. 

That same girl is Mexico’s biggest cartel leader’s daughter?

“Solana was kind to her, offering a simple gesture of kindness that has not only helped my little girl in more ways than you can imagine but my family as a whole.” He explains, voice shifting into something almost sentimental. A rare thing for such a man. “And for that, I owe your wife a great debt that I intend to make good on right now.”

“Solana may be an Escobar by blood and thus has the protection of the Legado Del Fantasma, but from here on out, she also will have the protection of the full Gulf Cartel as well.”

Roman is stunned into silence. What does he say to that?

“Right now, as we speak, I have several fleets of my best men and weapons headed your way. They should arrive in a few hours.” A wave of silence overcomes the entire room, a disbelief of sorts for almost everyone. Especially Roman. “Whatever else you need, ask, and it is yours.”

To say this day has been one of the most stressful of his life would absolutely be putting it lightly. Just this morning, everything was fine. By the afternoon, he felt like he was in hell. And now, he sits here before another of one of the most feared men on the continent, hearing that not only is the Cartel supplying the Tribal Chief with an army and unlimited resources, but there’s a standing invitation for support later down the road.

He’s fucking floored.

Domingo, however, isn’t done. “Mr. Reigns, you will bring your wife home safely, strike down anyone who was a part of this coup, and when the dust settles, we shall meet to discuss business.” He smirks, eyes alight with greed and anticipation. “An alliance with the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra will only strengthen our empires.” The same sentiment Roman had when his initial interest piqued in the Cartel. “But, I am only interested in securing that deal if it is you who sits at the head of the table, because as I said earlier, your reputation precedes you.” A beat. “And, as far as I am concerned, you are the only Tribal Chief.”

—-----------

The minute Solana is thrown back into the same room she was in before, where Brandi still lies there, silent and unmoving, she feels it.

Small, subtle, but present.

There’s a switch that’s occurred. A death and a rebirth.

She doesn’t feel the same sense of dread that had her feeling helpless and hopeless. Doesn't feel as empty and deterred. 

She feels the exact opposite. 

Determined.

Hopeful.

Angry,

And, it’s all because of a single little girl.

Emma.

Because when Samantha moved to hurt Emma, something snapped in Solana. It was like she was broken from the shackles of her despair and thrust into an overwhelming sense of urgency and protection.

Because, it wasn’t Emma’s crying, helpless face she saw.

It was herself.

Solana saw a younger version of herself.

She was that helpless, defenseless child.

But, she’ll be damned if she lets Emma suffer the same fate.

It’s why she stood so boldly and with confidence against Samantha, because that’s what she needs to make it out of this alive. And, she will. Because she made a promise. 

To herself. 

To her girls.

To her family

Her husband and unborn children that she’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. 

Because it’s when she was being dragged back to her cell by Nia, another accomplice in this nightmare, a memory hit her. A recollection of what, at the time, felt like a dream, but now, she most definitely knows and understands was not a dream.

It was a warning.

“Mommy.”

Solana is startled by the sudden presence of her girls. She never even heard them walk over. “Yes, baby?”

“You’re gonna protect us, right?”

Eyes crinkling with confusion, Solana adjusts her baby boy, lightly patting his back. “What–what do you mean, honey?”

Her oldest eyes watering only sets Solana off even more, as she looks to Roman for some assistance only to see he’s no longer there.

He’s gone.

Solana’s stomach drops as she turns her head, looking to see where he’s gone when her daughter moves a hand to the baby’s back. “You’re gonna have to fight for us.”

Solana is beyond confused right now. About it all. “I don’t—”

“Daddy’s not gonna be there. You have to do it, mama.” The quieter of the two taking a turn to speak, voice almost desperate and emotional only exacerbates the situation. Solana feels her own tears forming when her daughter reaches out her little hand, placing it on her shoulder. “And you can’t trust them.”

That’s when Solana really stills. Looking between the two who wear such troubled expressions, she asks, “trust who?”

Solana’s eyes shut.

Rikishi. 

Solo. 

Nia.

Jey.

That’s who the girls were talking about. They were who she couldn’t trust.

But, it’s less the warning from her daughters that Solana keeps at the forefront of her mind, and more the question, “you’re gonna protect us, right?” and the reminder, “you’re gonna have to fight for us.”

Hands now free from the ties, she places her hand over her belly, a silent promise made.

Fight.

Something Solana at one point didn’t think she was capable of, but the truth of the matter is that she’s been fighting her whole life.

She fought to live, beat her coma, when the men who took her mother’s life also tried to take hers.

She fought and dragged her way out that house after being gang raped and beaten as a child, overcoming her injuries to live.

She survived not one but two attempts at taking her own life.

Solana has spent her entire life surviving adversity after adversity, and she’s damn sure not about to stop now.

Deep down, she knows Roman is coming for her, knows that there’s no way in hell he won’t, and while it terrifies her what he could be walking into, she has to trust he knows what he’s doing. Trust that he’s got this.

She just has to stay alive long enough for him to get to her.

Gaze falling over to Brandi, Solana is careful in her movements, keeping a comfortable distance as she settles on her knees in front of the woman.

“I saw Emma.”

Just like that, Brandi jumps up, eyes wide, filled with abject fear. “What? Is sh—”

“She’s okay,” Solana assures. Jey had told her he’d make sure no one hurt the little girl after also promising to try to secure it to where Emma could be with them. Not that it makes much of a difference.

He’s a liar and can go to hell just like the rest of them.

“Brandi, I need you to listen to me.” Solana doesn’t know how much time she has until the woman before her, who’s now crying again, overwhelmed with everything that’s happened, shuts her out again. “You’re hurt and confused and angry and so many other things, and I know this not just because….because we’re both in this situation together, but….” She drops her head, pushing back some of her hair, voice lowering into an almost whisper. “Because I felt the same way after I was raped.”

Had she been looking up, Solana would have seen the horrified gleam in the other woman’s eyes. “And that….that’s going to take time to heal from, but you will heal from it. I promise you that.” Solana believes that with everything in her. She has to. “But right now….right now is not about healing, it’s about surviving.” Solana looks back at her, swallowing and returning to her previously strong, firm voice. “We are not going to die in here. Your daughter is not going to die in here.”

My daughters are not going to die in here, Solana thinks to herself. A vow. A promise. An oath.

“We are going to fight like hell, and we are going to survive this.” Brandi’s bottom lip trembles, as she remains quiet but listening. “But, we have to do it together. And, I know….I know our husband’s history with each other, but it’s not about that right now. That’s them. This is us. And right now, our priority is to get out of here alive, which I know we can do….but, I need you to trust me.”

Such an impossible thing for the other woman, Solana is certain. She’s certain because it’s that trust that landed them in the situation they’re in. 

Roman

Cody

Solana

Brandi

They all trusted the people who swore to love and protect them, but now, those same people seek to destroy them.

And she can’t let that happen.

Solana doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to pressure Brandi, just wants to leave her with important things to consider.

And, she does, because just as Solana is preparing to move back to where she was previously sitting, a still, small voice fills the room.

“What do you need me to do?”

An indescribable joy and relief fills Solana that's only matched by her determination that make every bastard that's apart of this plot pay for what they've done.

She’s about to show them all just how “stupid” this bitch is.

[twptwp]

(Discussing some my experiences with finding comfort in PMD while growing up in a hostile environment)

CW mentions of CSA, physical abuse, verbal abuse

During this time period my sister also died, I lost quite a few of my siblings, I was subject to severe ableism from aforementioned "father", very weird threats. I could go on and on there was a lot of bad

CW over

Nowadays I'm in a much better place both physically and mentally, I thank you my friends and my ma. I had PMD Explorers of Sky as a child and played all the time, it really shaped who I am today and I learned to stay alive from that game. I found comfort in all the characters, Chatot was also a big one surprisingly HAHA!

I hope this was not too upsetting of a post, "dadnoir' stuff really sticks out to me nowadays because I use to imagine him so much when I was scared... I was actually really scared of Dusknoir as a kid for a while, but then I played special episode 5 and he became a big source of peace and comfort after that. I liked how he changed and became good. I'm no stranger to doing absurd things out of fear and wanting to stay alive, I came to respect and understand him quickly.

Anyways, that was a big post ahhh, I hope you have a nice day! Do take care of yourself, you're cherished

[mayasaura]

i hope u dont mind me asking but where is it implied john is a survivor of childhood sexual assault?

Yeah, I did kind of just throw that one out there, didn't I? The implication is spread out across a combination of John's backstory and behavior, especially in Nona the Ninth.

cw for discussion of sexual coercion, csa, and systemic abuse in an academic setting

Let's start with his behavior. Mercy and Augustine spent five hundred years planning Dios Apate Major down to the last detail. Luring John into bed was clearly not an easy thing to do at the time. And while a lot of worse stuff came to light in the big reveal scene in Harrow the Ninth to overshadow it, what Augustine and Mercy did was a violation of John's bodily autonomy and a form of sexual assault.

So where is that behaviour coming from?

The next time we hear from John, he's on a binge drinking hypersexual spiral, turning on a dime from five hundred years of near-celibacy to sleeping his way through the full cast and crew of the Erebos. I love a good "he fucked that old man" joke as much as the next guy, and I intend to keep making them, but that kind of zero to sixty manic behavior is a pretty common response to triggered sexual trauma. There's something happening there.

Very early on in Nona, John recites a list of his schools. First on that list is Dilworth. Dilworth is a private school for economically disadvantaged (read: poor, and majority indigenous) boys, and it has a reputation. To quote its wikipedia page:

John attended that school as an academically gifted gender non-conforming indigenous boy with no support network. His only known family died of pneumonia while he was enrolled. He was a vulnerable target in a high-risk environment.

A class action complaint is currently underway against Dilworth School seeking accountability and compensation from the school for knowingly failing to protect students from systemic sexual abuse that occurred between 1970 and 2006.

This wouldn't be enough to come to a conclusion if John were a real person, of course. If John were a real person, we'd be out of bounds in speculating. But he's not a real person, he's a character whose life and backstory were deliberately crafted. Name-checking Dilworth in John's backstory was a choice, and I think the implication is pretty clear.

[shrimpkini]

Who's lex dark and why's that anon so pressed about you hating them? Hate to your heart's content!

CW: discussing CSA, pedophilia, and problematic content

Lex_Dark is a popular nsfw artist on twt. I want to get it out of the way that I at one point followed them for a brief time. This was until I saw some of the art they made. They’ve drawn porn of teen soukoku, endorse ships like Chuuya x Oda, Mori x Dazai, and Ranpo x Fukuzawa. They are a pro shipper who, surprise, surprise, takes things too far by glorifying and sexualizing pedophilia.

One of their pieces has Mori walking in on skk after they had sex. Like Dazai doesn’t have pants on and still has cum dripping down his legs and opens the door to greet Mori. They don’t depict teenagers having a sex life, because I do believe that can be done in a way that is needed for a story or self discovery. But that is not what they are doing. They are drawing a teen Chuuya and Dazai and making them “sexy” for the audience.

They have 60k followers and I’m really disappointed they have a platform. When it comes to sexualizing fictional children in art, it is incredibly harmful. It actively hurts real life children. I should know as a victim of csa myself. Normalizing the sexualization of teenagers is disgusting. I think we should ask ourselves what do they find attractive about the teenage version of those characters? Why are they so keen on shipping children with parental figures or adult characters who met them when they were kids? It is so important to mention that Oda met Dazai when he was 16. Oda is 5 years older than Dazai meaning he was 21. He watched him grow up and viewed him as a child in the light novel. BECAUSE HE WAS. Teenagers are CHILDREN. Same with Fukuzawa and Ranpo. He met Ranpo when he was a kid and essentially adopted him. To put it in real life perspective — could you imagine lusting after a child you adopted and raised? My little sister is around that age. Another example is as a 21 yo, even though it’s legal, I wouldn’t go after an 18 yo who is still in high school. We are at different points in our life and they are still very much a kid despite being “legal”. Morality and what makes a moral relationship doesn’t just lie in age.

That is why I say if you are making content like that you are either a pedo, making content for pedos, or apart of the problem. And that is why I hate the content Lex_Dark makes. Hopefully that made sense. If there’s any confusion or things that you want more clarification on - I’d be happy to oblige.

[janeyshivers]

Masculinity, Third-Sexing, and McGillis Fareed

(art by liusang)

(cw: this post involves discussion of fictionalised rape and CSA)

this post also contains full-series spoilers for Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans.

there's such an interesting way to view McGillis' story through the lens of like, third-sexing and the way that he (in the popular gundam fandom perception) "becomes an idiot" later on being heavily tied into like, masculinity and patriarchy. as a kid he's sexually abused, raped and beaten repeatedly by his adoptive father, in a way that a lot of violently patriarchal cultures basically recognise as him being tossed into the like, "third sex" dumping ground between man and woman, in the way that young boys often were in e.g. Hellenic societies. and the result of this is that mcgillis ultimately gets a good idea (accrue enough power to fundamentally break and remake this deeply evil system) tangled up with a very bad idea (accrue this power in such a way as to reaffirm his masculinity). he remains obsessed with this even as he ages, becomes a young man, and, theoretically, is no longer third-sexed as a young male concubine for a violent pedophile. that's why he thinks getting his hands on Bael means he wins and everyone has to listen to him; in his head that means he's a man again, it's his ultimate trump card because it represents his triumphant return to the vigorous, powerful male sex.

the show presents this as deeply delusional and tragic, not just in the way that McGillis directly fucks up and fails at the end of season 2, but even in season 1. we see in the back half of that that mcgillis is actually an extremely slippery and effective political operator, if he sticks to the shadows. in his gay little mask and girly wig, McGillis is capable of toppling his father, grabbing control of the Bauduin family, and replacing Carta as the commander of the OEJR Fleet. his problems start when he discards the mask and gets directly stuck in, blabbing his entire plan to gaelio and then failing to kill him because his sword wasn't big enough. his desire to be seen as dominant, vital, and male causes him problem after problem, where if he had accepted that maybe masculinity is a poisoned chalice, he could have gotten away with a lot more.

but the shame of being third-sexed as a child drives him to extremes to try and escape, and this then extends to the show doing a really interesting thing with how masculinity is a core aspect of oppressive regimes. while it's never said outright, Gjallarhorn seems to be not only a bloodline system, but a heavily patriarchal one. the only female member of the Seven Stars we see is Carta, and that's because her parents are both dead, and even then she is fully under Iznario Fareed's thumb. it is also seen as, at worst, a bit dubious for Gallus Bauduin to marry off a nine-year old girl to an adult suitor in McGillis.

i don't think it's an accident at all that McGillis' guiding philosophy comes from a book specifically about the history of Gjallarhorn itself; he directly says in the flashback during episode 43 that his vision of power, "authority, vigour, might, vitality, influence, as well as... brute force" comes from this book. this is Gjallarhorn's vision of masculinity, built into its founding 300 years prior.

bluntly, i also don't think it's an accident that McGillis discovers the text about Agnika Kaieru in the direct aftermath of being raped by Iznario.

in a moment of utter, abject humiliation, when he is about as third-sexed as it's possible to get, McGillis is suddenly given this mirage of not just power, but masculinity. is it any wonder that he becomes obsessed with becoming a modern Agnika, even when, as an adult, he nominally rejoins the male sex? the show makes a lot out of McGillis' arrested development, his childish love for Agnika Kaeiru, and i believe a large part of that is that, even if he is not socially third-sexed as an adult, he himself has never quite been able to escape the mindset he had when he was as a child, which is paradoxically why he feels he must prove that he is a man.

McGillis had a real shot at fundamentally remaking the terrible system at the heart of the PD timeline, and his obsession with masculinity and power, directly cultivated by a system that victimised him and then dangled a false means of erasing that victimisation in front of him, means he ultimately fumbles, and allows Rustal Elion to limit the damage and maintain the system's basic functionality, if not its strict reliance on bloodlines. i think that's a genuinely brilliant depiction of how oppressive regimes weaponise sex and gender to neutralise threats against them on the part of IBO's writers.

building on this, it does not escape my notice that during McGillis' attempted coup, there are basically no women in the show, and certainly none among the forces under McGillis' direct command. i feel that's a deliberate contrast to the final act of season 1, where Kudelia is playing a pivotal political role, Lafter and Azee are a vital part of Tekkadan's mobile suit forces, and Atra and Merribit are working overtime to keep Tekkadan's frontline troops on their feet in the field hospital. McGillis' revolution fails because he wants it to be at once a repudiation of the system he wants to destroy, while simultaneously reaffirming his own masculinity in the way that same system has told him it must be reaffirmed. when he operated outside the logic of the system, he did a legitimately generational level of damage to Gjallarhorn, but as soon as he moves into the open to grab at his masculinity, he is subsumed, and his ambitions are stopped short. that's why he fails.

this also massively plays into McGillis' relationship with Gaelio. what becomes clear in their final conversation is McGillis has deliberately shut out his very real and existing feelings of love and affection for both Gaelio and Carta, in that very typically masculine way. i truly don't believe there's any way to read Gaelio's feelings for McGillis without understanding them as an extremely twisted mixture of ferocious hatred and intense love by the end, and the fact that McGillis rejects these homoerotic feelings for so long is what ultimately leads to them killing each other in s1 and s2. what Gaelio ultimately represents to McGillis is a vulnerability; given Gaelio repeatedly expresses anger and dissatisfaction with the status quo within Gjallarhorn in s1, i don't think it's a stretch to say that McGillis could have gotten him on-side with his plans. even in s2, Gaelio's main objections to McGillis are personal; the way he treated Carta and himself are what comes out in his confrontation with Isurugi, rather than any principled opposition to McGillis' revolution. but accepting Gaelio's love would mean McGillis accepting that he can't Become A Man again, and he can't do that. easier to kill Gaelio, or be killed by him, and be done with it.

i'd even argue that this theme is built into a lot of McGillis' visual design. even besides the gay little mask that we've already discussed, if i had to pick a word to describe McGillis, it wouldn't be "handsome", it would be "pretty". the designers and animators have quite deliberately given this dude floppy blonde hair, icey blue eyes, etc and so forth, all the accoutrements of a Char-style prettyboy. this also extends to his mobile suits, with his Grimgerde in season 1 being very slender, painted in a fetching ruby red and fighting with dexterity and precision rather than the direct, merciless brute force of Bael in season 2. he desires one of these far more than the other, and it is not the one that delivered him a string of incredible victories.

McGillis' insecurity about being third-sexed as a child lasting long after he is, to most people, accepted as a man, is an incredibly important part of his character. not the whole thing, of course; i wouldn't be so fascinated by this guy and IBO as a whole if there wasn't more to him than just this stuff. i've mostly talked about McGillis in terms of being an aspiring sigma male jackass here, but if anything that makes the genuine flashes of empathy and humanity we get from the guy in other contexts much more interesting. running in fascinating parallel with this desire to Become Male Again is also a discernable yearning for real human connection, for McGillis to be accepted as he is. the tension between this, and his entrampment in a coercive system of masculinity, is what makes him such a fascinatingly flawed and contradictory character.

i might do another post at some point examining the other side of this coin, the way the McGillis tries and fails repeatedly to drop his mask outside of just his relationship with Gaelio. you may have noticed a distinct lack of discussion of Almiria and Tekkadan as a whole in this post, and that's because they live much more in that aspect of his character (although i'll tack on a pre-emptive disclaimer that i'm not framing this as the 'good' side of McGillis' character; i think his behaviour towards Almiria is complex and interesting narratively, and utterly indefensible morally, a fact that both myself and, imo, the show itself make no bones over).

anyway, this has been your regularly scheduled post where i'm insane about Gundam. i hope you found it interesting!! and hey, if you want to listen to me and my friend jacqueline talk more about this show in detail, check out the podcast we do on our Patreon, Nectar of the Pods! we did a full back-to-front analysis of both seasons, and we've also covered stuff like Black Sails, Disco Elysium, Homestuck, and are currently working our way through Revolutionary Girl Utena!

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

I'm BACK, my Darlings!

Link to full AO3 fic

Tags and CW for this chapter: murder; rigged gladiator matches; the Baron being the fucking worst; mentions of child abuse/CSA/incest; the Bene Gesserit; mentions of smut/exhibitionism (no actual smut in this one, sorry there will be soon) early pregnancy; Feyd's mommy AND daddy issues; I take a couple of minor liberties with Feyd's birthday arena fight; blink-and-you'll-miss-it implied sexual assault; implied/references sex trafficking; Geidi Prime's culture; mentions of matricide

CHAPTER ELEVEN: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

You reach the box, noting that the more obscure sisters have sat in one section, while Margot and the Reverend Mother sit in the other booth, with room for you in between them.  All stand and turn to you when Idrisa announces your arrival.

Behind her veil you can see the Reverend Mother’s eyebrows raise at your dress, your painted-black lips.

“I imagine the na-Baron had a hand in your outfit?” she asks as you all sit down.

“He had an idea for how he wanted me to look on his birthday, your Reverence,” you say.  

“Have you spoken with him?”

“A little, your Reverence,” you tell her.  “I just finished helping him prepare.”

It’s safe to assume that she’ll be observing you as well as Feyd.  You wonder if she wonders how much leverage you’ve truly gotten with him.  You wonder if she’ll want the graphic details when the two of you speak in private later.  

“How did he seem?” she asks.

“While we haven’t discussed it much, he’s pleased about my recent development.  He seemed indifferent to the prospect of the match, however; he’s participated in so many since he turned eighteen I think it’s somewhat routine for him.”

“It’s reckless, sending the na-Baron into the arena when he’s only just secured the bloodline,” one of Bene Gesserit sisters says.

Both her Reverence and Margot glance your way in a silent invitation to explain your husband’s people’s customs.

“He’s in no danger, Sister,” you say.  “The na-Baron’s matches aren’t traditional matches so much as they’re executions.  His opponents aren’t fighting at full capacity, so it’s impossible for them to have the upper hand.”

“And you’ve seen these executions in practice?” she asks.

“Yes, Sister.  Just once, the night before my wedding,” you tell her.  It was ostensibly a gift, but meant to serve more as a warning .

“But these other matches…?” she starts.

“Are real,” you finish for her.  “The victor gains their freedom, should they survive.”

You explain the figures clad all in black, their faces obscured with headpieces resembling curved horns and armed with long hooks, as Picadors.  “They essentially act like sporting referees,” you tell them.  “But by and large they don’t interfere in any of these matches; just about everything is allowed.”

And then the festivities, as they were, begin.  The announcer’s voice is amplified so loud the echoes of it reverberate in your chest and nearly make your teeth rattle as he gives the name of not each individual fighter but their Houses and planets, succinct enough that anyone can understand, accompanied by the sound of drums. You can sense the distaste from some of the Sisters, the ones who sound younger, as the first match commences.  For your part you try to give nothing away, face schooled into a mask of neutrality, and keep silent other than to answer polite questions about your home world and how the cultural differences between it and Geidi Prime.  ( “Oh, there are many, Sister.  Our culture’s also militaristic and public executions aren’t uncommon but we don’t have arena fights like these.” ) There’s little audience bias from the crowd; they just want to see two men trying to kill each other.  The closest it gets is when a non-Harkonnen who’s nonetheless from Lankiveil is pitted against another fighter.  For a brief moment you assume that the crowd will favor the Lankiveil fighter.

That moment passes, because throughout the crowd many start shouting something that you’re pretty sure means “ traitor. ”  You shouldn’t be surprised that here, Abulurd Rabban’s defection hasn’t been forgiven, and neither has anyone who’s refused to fall in line with Harkonnen governorship in their claimed territories.  You wonder what Feyd thinks about that and watch as the Lankiveil man puts in some good offense–before one of the Picadors shuffles closer and catches him in either side of his neck with both hooks, leaving his opponent to finish the job.  As the man gurgles, blood spilling from his throat, you hear the loudest cheers so far.

Time narrows down to Feyd’s showing.  He’ll be armored by now, dressed, ready to make his first proper public appearance in a month, and even as the cheers die down from the past match and the blood is swept to the ends of the arena, the audience can feel it.  Horns sound, and you gasp as you notice what look like bursts of black plasma exploding in the air with splattering noises.  Fireworks, or the closest thing Geidi Prime has to it, stark against the plain white sky.

You’ve been practicing the Harkonnen language every day, but you’re far from fluent yet.  Not even conversational.  You understand only bits and pieces as the excitement in the announcer’s voice ramps up, booming throughout the colosseum. 

"Under sljdgkjo our ghiel black sun, we welcome iwelkgnle sljeifgwaln our beloved leader Baron Vladimir Harkonnen,” the voice booms. “His lwkejlw jkslanlwe fjldklwel of blood and honor, pwoerl the holy birthday of our beloved na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen!"

You hadn’t realized what the word for blood was a month ago when you saw your first arena match, or that that’s what the crowd was chanting for.  You feel a chill run down your spine as you keep your posture straight, your face impassive.  

“Do you know what they’re saying?” her Reverence asks.  You wonder if she knows the language and just wants to know how much you understand.

“Some, your Reverence,” you say.  “They’re introducing him now as the main attraction.”

And when the cheers get even louder, chanting Feyd’s name, you look down and there he is, moving in long-legged, purposeful strides with a blade in each hand.

You take a breath as you pull up your binoculars and watch as Feyd-Rautha takes to one knee, bowing deep in the direction of the Baron.

“He doesn’t bow to you?” one of the Sisters asks.  “You’re his wife.  You’re carrying his child.”

You shake your head.  “He wouldn’t.  That’s not how they do things here,” you tell her as you can’t look away from Feyd, who raises his head for a moment, trying to focus in on his face.  He looks up not at you, but at his uncle with a cold glare before rising and getting into stance.

As Feyd activates his shields, and you can’t help but think he looks reptilian under the Geidi Prime sun.  

“In celebration of our Na-Baron Feyd Rautha, we slheo a lwehfoew tueigh , the alsg three lsgjwoq of House Atreides.”

Atreides .  Geidi Prime managed to drag the last of the Atreides military into their dungeons, their fate to be drugged and killed in front of the House that caused their destruction.  A straightforward execution would be more dignified than this pretense of a match.

You can’t help the unease, even growing disgust brewing as you watch three doors slide open to reveal three men, all shirtless and wincing against the harshness of the infrared sun, and as Feyd’s eyes slide towards each door with a detached, calculating look.

You can sense the Bene Gesserit Sisters watching you, wondering what you actually think of your brute animal of a husband as you try your best to keep a straight face.

Two of the men are broader and bulkier than Feyd, not like it will make any kind of difference as they trudge forward, stumbling, trying to adjust their grips on their blades.

“Do you… like seeing this?”

You force yourself to stare ahead.  “It doesn’t matter if I like it or not, Sister,” you say.  “I’m expected to support my husband in this.”

Of course you don’t like seeing this.  But from the way Feyd paces, swift in his execution, gnashing his teeth and snarling like a beast desperate for a challenge and still riled up with pent-up energy, it doesn’t seem like he takes any satisfaction in doing this. 

He’d seemed like he was getting some amusement out of his last arena showing, playing with his opponents and taking as much time with them as he felt would be entertaining for the thousands of fans in the audience and disturbing for you and your family.  

He appears to get no such amusement now as he prowls, frustrated at the utter lack of challenge.  Maybe it’s because the chance to slaughter the greatest of his House’s enemies is hollow and unearned this way.  He’s an adult and yet the Baron’s been so quick to keep him safe from any real danger other than himself.  Maybe it’s finally getting to him that he’s not even expected to be able to beat members of the Atreides army in a fair fight, especially since it looks like the dungeon-masters selected burly, powerful-looking men for the spectacle even as the drugs render them weak and sluggish.

But then there’s the third man.  Although he’s leaner and, from what you can tell, older than the first two, as soon as he gets his bearings of the unforgiving Geidi Prime sun he strides forward confidently and with purpose.

That can’t be right , you think.

“That last fighter isn’t drugged,” Margot says, gaze sliding over to you as if to ask, Did you know about this?

“No, it would appear that he isn’t,” you tell her as your heart speeds up and you can feel yourself blanche.  “They must’ve been keeping him healthy for this.”

“Do you know why?” another woman asks.

“I do not,” you admit.  Maybe Feyd wanted a proper challenge.  Maybe he wanted to grace his audience with a real fight this time to show his own merits.

But then you zero in on Feyd and the flash of open incredulity on his face as he tilts his head and seems to realize the situation, when the soldier swipes and evades him with far more ease than the others, gets in a strike to the chest that would’ve killed him without his shield.  You’re pretty sure that had he not been distracted with the first two soldiers he would’ve noticed the difference immediately.

Feyd didn’t plan this .

You look, horrified, across the arena into the Baron’s stadium box.  The Baron doesn’t notice you, of course, but he smirks as he glances down into the arena.

What’s the purpose of this, you sick, awful man? you want to ask him.  Are you trying to get him killed?

You look back down at Feyd, who you realize must’ve been looking at his uncle thinking the same thing before he looks back at his opponent, who he fixes with a smile.  The monochrome landscape makes his black teeth look nonexistent within the cavern of his mouth as he acknowledges the Atreides fighter, turns off his shield, and unclips it from his armor for everyone to see before tossing it and his second blade to the ground.

You want a fair and honest fight, you’ll get a fair and honest fight, he seems to tell his opponent, the Baron, everyone in the audience.  The two begin to circle one another, reevaluating each other and the best way to strike.  The Picadors step in closer. 

You inhale, exhale, in the second before their match starts in earnest.  He’s been training since he was a little boy; he spars every day.   He’ll be fine, you think, as Feyd and the Atreides soldier look each other in the eye.  You’ve seen him do drills before; he’s well-coordinated.

You’ve never seen him like this.

He’s fast.  He’s good .  You’d taken it for granted that of course, he’d be competent with a weapon, but you’ve never seen him properly fight before.  You hadn’t realized how graceful and swift he is, a good match for the lean and limber soldier he’s fighting, who goes on offense with the hatred and desperation of a man with nothing left to lose but the chance to take one last Harkonnen down with him.

Feyd looks like he’s having the time of his life.  

The smile never quite leaves his face as he counters every move, and you’re sure there’s an excited gleam in his eye that your binoculars can’t quite pick up.  He smirks and winks at the other fighter, like this is a fun, improvised dance rather than a fight to the death.  Almost like he’s flirting.

Your heart pounds.  The Atreides fighter’s undeniably skilled, has all the same strengths as Feyd, and has adjusted quickly to the unpleasant atmosphere and harsh light of the Geidi Prime sun, not to mention the Picadors taunting him with their prowling.  No other opponent would do to make Feyd seem like a genuinely credible fighter.  You watch as Feyd sweeps the legs out from under the Atreides soldier and go in for the kill, only for his opponent to evade him and get back up to resume fighting.

You wince as one of the Picadors pierces the Atreides soldier’s shoulder blade with their hook, thinking, That will make Feyd look weak.   Feyd must be thinking the same thing, because the moment the soldier cries out in pain Feyd snarls and bellows at the Picadors for their interference. Like cockroaches they recoil and scatter, releasing the soldier and leaving just a small piece of metal lodged there, presumably to keep the man from bleeding out before Feyd has the chance to kill him.  No interference, no cheating, no advantages.  Man to Man .

It’s not lost on you how inhuman Feyd looks, especially against his opponent.  You also don’t care; you just need him to win, you think as Feyd disarms the Atreides soldier, only for the ensuing scuffle to land them both in the sandy ground, grappling for the remaining blade.

For a moment they’re both flat on their backs, and in that moment, you realize that the soldier has the blade and the upper hand as they both slowly get up, locking in, equal force and resistance in a perverse embrace. 

The blade’s so close to Feyd’s eye; the Picadors encircle them but don’t dare get any closer as he keeps the tip mere centimeters away.  You can’t breathe, your sweaty hands shaking as you clench one fist in the skirt of your dress and force yourself to hold the binoculars with the other as you watch Feyd, from his coiled frame to his narrow face and can hardly believe what you see as you flutter the setting in closer.

He’s laughing .

And then he stops laughing as he pulls the knife to the side, past his head, turns it around in their combined grip and plunges it into the other man’s stomach.

The moment lasts for what feels like years, the Atreides soldier’s expression turning from shock to disbelief to growing horror as the light starts to fade from his eyes.  You think Feyd says something to him as he gently cradles the man’s face with one hand, as if he’s trying to reassure him even as his other hand has a blade wedged in him, and you’d give anything to know what he’s saying.

And then the other soldier’s dead, finally going limp, and Feyd pulls the knife out, getting up and showing it to all of the arena.  The crowd erupts into elated, blood-thirsty cheers that don’t let up as he silently strides away, one arm still raised in victory.  The fireworks go into a frenzy as the crowd chants Feyd-Rauth-A! like the beat of a war-drum.

It’s not until Feyd’s returned to the Colosseum's underbelly like a monster that was summoned from it only to return from the bowels of the underworld from whence he came, that anyone in your booth finally speaks.

“Your husband is impressive, indeed” Lady Margot says.

You won’t see Feyd for a while; apparently he is to bathe and change before having a private meeting with the Baron, while you are to speak privately with her Reverence, at least according to the attendant who leads the other Bene Gesserit back to the guest wings to rest before the upcoming celebrations.

Maybe the Baron will provide a decent explanation for surprising his nephew with an opponent who actually stood a shot at killing him .

Idrisa trails behind you and the Reverend Mother as house servants lead you to a room with expansive floor-to-ceiling windows offering an excellent view of the black sun and sky that from the interior resembles a sickly gray.  More servants come in with herbal tea with lemon for the two of you and you sit in silence for a moment, the Reverend Mother ignoring her tea as she watches you and you let her, wondering what information you’re giving her in your fixed posture and delicate sip from your cup.  You glance over at Idrisa, who stands in the corner with her head bowed.  

“Your husband’s showing in the arena was quite revealing,” her Reverence finally says.  Even more than your dress .

“I apologize.  I had no say or knowledge of the fight.   I don’t believe the na-Baron did, either,” you tell her.

“The Baron acted in an unorthodox manner,” her Reverence says.

“I’m sure he must have been confident in the na-Baron’s odds of winning in a fair fight, even if it was...a high risk,” you say, trying to sound diplomatic and keep the anger and desperation out of your voice, “to put him in such a situation.  Surely he must know how important the na-Baron’s role is both for the sake of Geidi Prime and for his service to you.”

Her Reverence almost smiles.  “We’d prefer to keep the na-Baron alive as long as we reasonably can; he has the markings of a Great House leader, and of course your safety is more intact with his protection, but our main requirement of him is securing a son, and he’s accomplished that.”

Were her words supposed to be comforting?  Your hands feel clammy and sweaty as you try not to wring them in your skirt.

“Yes, of course, your Reverence.  I agree, I’m safer with him, much as I found that hard to believe at first.  We’re,” you hesitate, “more compatible than I think either of us anticipated.”  You try not to blush as you say it, can’t quite look her in the eye.  

“Even powerful men are malleable,” the Reverend Mother says.

“He and I spend time together outside of the marriage bed as well, so I think he likes my company well enough,” you add.  

You can hear your mother’s voice clear as day in your own head, warning you, Think very carefully about what you’re going to say and who you’re saying it to .

You find the words as if sounding them out, “Still, I cannot help but be concerned,” you say, “about the role the Baron will play in my children’s lives, especially any sons I’ll have.” 

You realize that she knows what you mean without you having to say it as she hardly blinks.  “The Baron’s health has been declining steadily over the years,” she says.  “It appears that as of late he hasn’t quite had the stamina to indulge in some of his baser inclinations.”

So you also knew and let it happen?  Did Feyd not have a single adult in his life actually looking out for him?  Revulsion swirls in the pit of your stomach.  “All the same, I don’t want to take that risk,” you tell her.  

The Reverend Mother’s gaze grows sharper.  “Walls have ears, young one,” she says, and you recoil, briefly.  For a woman who must be at least seventy, even without using the Voice on you she intimidates you more than most men you’ve met. 

“I understand, your Reverence,” you say quickly.  “But if I’m to provide my firstborn son everything he needs to grow into the man he’s meant to be, everything you need for him to serve you and the Empire, then he’ll need a safer upbringing than that of his father.”

The Reverend Mother purses her lips for a moment, and you try not to wince, realizing how transparent and sophomoric your attempt at manipulation is.  Still, you’re desperate.  She can sense it, and lets you stew in your own juices for a moment.

“Feyd-Rautha’s father was and remains reviled on Geidi Prime,” she says eventually.  “Elsewhere he’s seen as a decent man brave enough to distance himself from a cruel House and forge his own path.  And yet he was still cut down in his forties, his legacy erased.  Much like the Duke of Atreides recently.”

Why are you telling me this? you want to ask.  Are you implying that it’s better that Feyd was raised by a pedophile than by a pacifist?

“Tell me this, do you honestly feel you have his devotion?” she asks.

You want to say a definitive yes.  You think about how he holds you close at night, remember him nestled against you.  You think about how diligently he trains you, insists on eating with you, encourages you learning to speak his language with him when he could ignore you except to come inside of you whenever he so chooses.  “I…I think so?” is what you manage, though, when you think of his fervent loyalty to an uncle you’re pretty sure he despises.  “I think I’m getting there, earning it,” you add.  “I know part of his wedding vows was to keep me safe and I think he intends to keep it.  But he is still Harkonnen.”  And the Harkonnen who taught him all about politics has devotion to no one but himself .

You expect the Reverend Mother to berate you for your only middling success for a moment.  Instead, and whether it’s to comfort you or for her own purpose, she picks her tea up, considering it but never lifting her veil to actually drink it.  “The Baron did everything in his power to mold Feyd-Rautha exactly to him.  In the mind, anyway.  And in some ways he succeeded.”  He took a seven-year-old boy and turned him into a bloodthirsty sociopath like him , she doesn’t need to say.  “But I’ve heard and now have finally seen it for myself that despite all this, he has a sense of honor.  And that comes from Abulurd Rabban, a decent man who loved the family he chose and forged for himself.” 

Your throat feels dry as you think about how this woman has shared more about Feyd’s father than Feyd ever has, and yet your tea sits forgotten on the table in front of you.  Your heart beats faster.  You try and find the words.

“So…if my husband had to make the choice between mine and my children’s safety…and his uncle’s demands…”

“I think you know,” the Reverend Mother says.  “The Baron’s time is coming to a close, once he’s served his purpose.”

“And what,” you clear your throat.  “What is that, exactly?”  

“Laying the groundwork for his nephew’s success,” her Reverence says.  “Lady Fenring told you about how we tested your husband.”

“Yes, your Reverence,” you tell her.

Her gaze pierces through her veil as she looks at you.  “It’s not just a test to determine pain tolerance, or self-control.  It’s a test to determine if someone has elevated themselves above their animal nature.  Neither the Baron nor Rabban have ever taken such a test,” she says.  “Neither of them would survive.”

You look at each other, an understanding settling in between the two of you.

There’s a knock at the door and you both look towards the door, which opens to reveal two guards and Feyd, who’s changed into long robes that cover him from his Adam’s apple to his boots.

He inclines his head towards the Reverend Mother.  “Your Reverence,” he says, the gesture polite but his tone clipped.

“I trust your meeting with your uncle was enlightening?” she asks as you both rise to stand.

“It certainly was, your Reverence,” he says, and you can sense an unspoken topic simmering under the surface, something you’re not yet privy to.  Something they haven’t shared with you yet .  But you’ll find out.  If you’re to play a part in their greater schemes, all the plans within plans that they make, you need to know what you’re in for.

“I understand your festivities are imminent,” the Reverend Mother says.  “So I’ll take my leave.”  She practically glides past the servants on her way out.

Before she leaves, though, she turns to Feyd once more.  “Oh, and congratulations on winning your match,” she adds.  

Feyd shakes his head when a servant wordlessly offers him a fresh cup of tea and looks back at you.

“It’s a shame we won’t be alone for long,” he says.  “Uncle wants us in the banquet hall soon for my celebration dinner.”

“Did he provide an explanation for what he did earlier?” you ask him.  

Feyd says nothing for a moment, compressing his lips into a thin line.  “I saw the look on both your faces,” you tell him.  “No one told you about the undrugged soldier; your uncle ambushed you.”

“He claimed it was a birthday gift, the chance to prove to my people that I’m a warrior and not an entertainer.”  He seems to hesitate before adding, “It’s far from the worst gift he’s ever given.”

That I very much believe.  “You accomplished it,” you tell him.

And then he adds, “The other gift is governorship of Arrakis.”  

You do a double take, hoping you heard wrong.  “You’re replacing Rabban?” you ask.  

“They’ll announce it soon,” he says.  “He’s been hemorrhaging both spice and soldiers.  It’s embarrassing.”

“Does he know?” you ask.

“He’ll find out soon enough,” Feyd says.  

Then you’ll be gone , you think, heart sinking.  I don’t want to be left alone with the Baron here .  “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re to do no such thing,” he says.  “I won’t bring you and our son into enemy territory in the middle of war; it’s too dangerous.”

“The Reverend Mother said herself that I’m safer with you,” you tell him.  You feel yourself flush, desperate and angry.  I need help.  I need protection.  Everyone says they’re looking out for my and my child’s safety and yet they deprive me of what I really need .  You can hear yourself raising your voice as you say, “No offense, husband, but you’re the only Harkonnen man that I trust.”

Feyd reaches out and you flinch before he can cup your face in one hand, his eyes darting across your face.  Your breath comes faster, straining against the straps that barely cover your breasts.  You think about the Litany Against Fear and think, no.  He needs to know that I’m scared .

“No harm will come to you,” he says.  “Not here, especially not after your pregnancy’s announced.  The people will be overjoyed to know we’ve succeeded in continuing the Harkonnen line.  The first royal birth on Geidi Prime in over sixty-five years.”  His hands move to your waist.  “You’ll have the best medical care the planet has to offer.  I’ll keep in correspondence with you whenever I have the time.”

He leans in closer, gently presses his forehead against yours.  “Make no mistake, Y/N Harkonnen,” he says.  “I wouldn’t be separated from you if I didn’t think there was a risk.”  You exhale, closing your eyes.  

“Ever since I’ve come of age I’ve been used for spectacle, ornamentation.  Fighting rigged matches with no real risk, used as a mascot and an image and not for what I was made to do.

“But now I get to live my purpose; I get to extend the Harkonnen line, I get to lead my men into battle.  For the first time I have real responsibilities and I’m going to fulfill them.”

You listen to his words, hear the conviction in his voice, and think about how there’s a part of Feyd not molded by the most cruel and depraved parts of this planet; an albeit twisted honor code, a sense of loyalty.  Perhaps the Reverend Mother was right in thinking it comes from his father, because it’s not his uncle or brother.

“Will I see you again before our son is born?” you ask.

He moves his hands to yours, taking them in his grasp.  “I swear it,” he says.  “And I swear I’ll never allow any harm to come to you and our children.”

Would you kill the Baron for us? you want to ask, knowing you can’t.  Not here, not now.  But soon.  

Do you have his devotion? 

Yes.  I’m certain.

“Now,” he says, pulling away.  “Tonight, we make our first public appearance as husband and wife since the wedding.  You said something last night about your years of training for the political aspects of marriage?”

“We wish to thank you all for attending my dear nephew’s twenty-sixth birthday,” the Baron says, hovering in a manner that makes him loom over even the tallest of heads as all stand, him at the seat of honor and his nephew on his right side and you beside his nephew.  Of all the Bene Gesserit guests, only the Reverend Mother and Margot are here for the banquet.  You imagine the always-veiled Sisters have to eat in the privacy of their quest quarters.  You notice Count Fenring as one of the distinguished guests–he must’ve only arrived today.  The age difference between him and his wife is all the more noticeable when you see them together.  There are other non-Harkonnen guests--it is a prominent birthday for a member of a prominent House, after all, but for the most part it remains, like in the arena, a sea of bald heads and black fabric.

Before anyone is permitted to sit down and eat, the Baron calls for a toast.  Everyone else has wine, and the ruby-red juice in your own wine glass looks enough like the real thing that people won’t ask questions yet.  We’ll give it a few weeks time, you think.  Stagger the news in between this and when Feyd’s officially given governorship of Arrakis.  Wait until a test from a Harkonnen doctor can confirm it and then we can announce it to all of Harko .

“To the na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and to his prosperous future!” the Baron says, raising his glass and taking one long sip as everyone cheers Feyd, and finishes his sip with a flourish before passing his glass to a servant to set down on the table for him.  His thin lips are already tinged red as he turns to his nephew, takes Feyd’s face in one hand, holding his chin, and presses a quick kiss to his lips.  Feyd doesn’t react beyond a slight twitch of his jaw.  You look down to stifle a flinch.

“Now, let us truly celebrate,” the Baron adds, and people cheer again in response.

When you all sit down Feyd turns to you, takes two fingers under your chin and raises your lips to his.  It’s not a passionate kiss, probably won’t even smear your lipstick, but it’s a slightly longer kiss than the one he just had from his uncle.

Maybe it’s for show; he wants to pass on the image of obedience.  Maybe he wanted to get the taste of his uncle off his lips.  You see the Baron look at you with a brief look of distaste before the food and drink can distract him and the courses can start flowing.

Either weddings by design are much more formal and quieter on Geidi Prime than birthday parties or the Baron wanted to show as much decorum as possible towards your House for the one occasion.

The banquet makes up for a small portion of the evening, quickly giving way to drinks and more food passed around as people disperse from tables to either stand around in the middle of the room or lounge on chaises and oversized armchairs that line the walls.  The fireworks continue in earnest outside, while inside people feed on delicacies passed around on trays and drink wine out of goblets and harsher liquors out of metal tumblers.  You make do with distilled water and sips of the same wine-colored juice from dinner.

Generals and off-world politicians alike toast Feyd both in the Imperial Standard and Harkonnen Battle Language.  Once again Feyd stiffens in the presence of Margot Fenring perhaps even worse with the Count present, his interactions with both of them polite but tense on his own end.  He never directly looks at her, you notice.  Funny thing, she doesn’t seem surprised or uncomfortable at his coldness.  Neither does her husband.

( “Isn’t it strange,” you overhear one of the Harkonnen captains say to another, “That they have three daughters together and I hear none of them look like him.” )  

You try to file away the growing discomfort of it.  I’ll unpack it later, you think, as today’s discoveries have been pretty illuminating towards why your husband claims to dislike the Bene Gesserit.  You try not to dwell on it for now, just trying to act the part of the demure and effortlessly poised political wife.  With Harkonnens you stay silent, to the side and slightly behind Feyd.  With other Houses you engage a bit more, agreeing with the compliments people give Feyd, who for his part plays the statesman rather well.  The Baron has, much as you hate to admit it, a level of wit that if he were another man you might occasionally find charming, but it’s always clearly manufactured.  While he still carries an intimidating presence, Feyd uses his combination of quick-thinking and brevity to his advantage.  He offers the occasional wry quip among the required pleasantries.  You think to yourself that, despite superficial appearances, the two of you make a decent-looking couple.

That said, you do catch a few people frowning at your hair, clearly wondering why Feyd hasn’t insisted on shaving it all off.

Yeah, well, not that it’s any of your business, but he happens to love my hair and can’t keep his hands off of me , you think, offering a polite smile and raised brow at one such bewildered-looking Harkonnen man, who quickly looks away to avoid being caught staring at the na-Baron’s wife.

Through it all slaves either mill around or weave in and out silently bearing trays either to serve food and drink or to take away used glasses.  They’re discreet, as they’re meant to be, but you can’t help but notice a couple of differences, things you’re certain hadn’t been present at your wedding reception.

Some of the slave girls who stand against the wall are in transparent dresses under which they’re all nude.  A few don’t look like some of the attendants you’ve seen; they’re curvier, with distinct markings you can see under the gauzy fabric.  There are also a few men, young and fit, wearing only loincloths.  Their body types also range in size, some slight and lean, some built with thicker, denser muscle.  You glance over as a Harkonnen soldier approaches one of the men with his wife trailing behind him.  It doesn’t surprise you that the higher-ranking women only ever approach any of them in the company of their husbands, but that when they do it’s not for one specific type.  Women, men, both appear to get used.  You glance at Feyd, who seems indifferent to it all; politely accepting congratulations on his arena match and happy birthday wishes.  He must be used to the implied debauchery of it all.

After a while it starts becoming uncomfortable, standing around in boots meant more for ornamentation than practicality, and Feyd senses it.

“Come now, wife, I think we’ve earned a bit of a sit-down,” he says, as if you also fought in the arena earlier instead of just standing for a while, and gives you his arm to guide you to an armchair wide enough to serve as a couch.

“Thank you,” you whisper in his ear as you sit down, before he sits down beside you and wordlessly pulls you into his lap.  In your surprise you shift, trying to make sure that you don’t expose any more skin than you already have, pulling the skirt of your dress over the slit along your thigh and hoping your breasts don’t fall out of the scraps of fabric meant to cover them.  Feyd doesn’t seem to care in the slightest, his hand coming to rest over your ribcage.

You weren’t entirely sure how he’d present you, but weren’t expecting him to have you front and center, silently demanding that all who approach him show their respects to you as well.  Maybe if things were different he'd have you kneeling on the floor beside the chair like an obedient dog.  Maybe the thought occurred to him; probably, if it occurred to you.  You shake the thought loose, wondering something else.

“What’s the informal term for ‘ father ’ in your language?  I haven’t been able to find it.”  Not that you can quite picture Feyd ever actually playing with any of his children, but the idea of it, the idea of all of you in a reasonably normal family, is a nice one you’d like to keep with you.

“There isn’t one,” Feyd says.  “It’s just ‘vasta. ’”

You frown.  “Nothing more casual than that?  Something a child would use?”

“Nothing,” he says.  “It’s either ‘vasta’ or ‘ father .’”

You consider this.  “So there’s no equivalent to something like ‘ Papa? ’ That’s what I called my father almost exclusively until I was four or five.”

“So did I,” Feyd says.  “But Lankiveil’s different from Geidi Prime.  Or it was until Rabban took over and started using it as a Harkonnen outpost.”

You pull back to get a better look at his face.  He’s never talked about his father, nor Lankiveil other than the once, and that had been at your prompting.  “You did?”

He looks at you as if he isn’t sharing something more intimate about his childhood than anything he’s ever discussed with you.  “That surprises you?”

“A little,” you admit.  “It’s easy to forget you had such a different life from this once.”

“It is, after enough years of separation,” he says.

You’re not sure quite what to say to that.  You think about how reviled the name of his father is on Geidi Prime, how begrudgingly respected he is on other planets.  You think about what the Reverend Mother told you, the information she gave you that Feyd never has and wonder if he ever will, or if like in matters of the bedroom, he needs to get to know you better before he shows you that kind of vulnerability.

But then he nuzzles against your hair, the shell of your ear, and you notice that in certain corners, seemingly unnoticed, some couples are getting closer and there are fewer of what you must assume are Fortress pleasure slaves than there were before.  Feyd has a tumbler glass of a harsh-smelling amber liquid that might be one of your parents’ birthday gifts in one hand, but the other holds you to him.

You think about that one morning in the Training Halls when he’d fucked you against the wall as everyone had been dismissed but aware of what the two of you were up to.  You doubt he will, but it also wouldn’t surprise you if he’s thought about pulling his cock out and having you sit on him for the entire party to see.

Maybe after he’s crowned you’ll do it–not in front of an audience, but in private after the throne’s been thoroughly disinfected you’ll take him inside of you while he sits on it.

He sets his glass down on the side table and lays his hand on your stomach, low on your belly, just where the tight bodice ends.  He brushes his thumb along the material.

“I’m glad to finally show you off,” he says, voice quiet enough that no one will hear except anyone foolish enough to try and eavesdrop on him.  “The picture of a Harkonnen bride.”

“Even with the hair and eyebrows?” you ask.

“Anyone who has a problem with it has to answer to me,” Feyd says.  “You are exactly as I want you; poised, capable, carrying my child.”  He slides a hand under the slit in your dress.  “Just curious, what sort of undergarment are you wearing under this?”

You feel yourself flush, a nervous laugh escaping you.  “About that…” you start, leaving the implication clear.  There’s another reason you’ve been sitting and standing so carefully all day.

Feyd’s eyes blaze.  “Because you want me to be a gentleman, I’ll wait until we’re in private before I rip this off of you and leave you in nothing but your necklace.”

“Trying to be a gentleman?  Is that the only reason why?” you ask, still flustered, trying to keep up.  The other bodies inhabiting this vast space are far easier to ignore this way.

“No,” he says simply.  “None of these people deserve to see you moaning as you take my cock like the beautiful, desperate cockslut that you are.  It’s only a twenty-minute walk to get back to my bedroom.  Fifteen if we walk briskly, and that’s about how long I’ll be able to last without being inside of you.”  He shifts you in his arms like he means to carry you and another giggle escapes you.  

“Leaving your own birthday party?” you ask.

“The party’s become a full Bacchanalia,” Feyd says, the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip turned up in a coy smile.  “I hardly think anyone will notice if we slip away.”

You smile back, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, picturing all the positions you’ll only be able to fuck in for another few months, before you start to swell.  You think about your breasts crushed against his solid chest, his abdomen against yours when he kneels and pulls you on top of him.  

“Alright,” you tell him.  “For the sake of propriety–”

“My apologies, my lord and lady na-Baron and na-Baroness, for the interruption,” a voice says, and you startle away, jerking your head towards an embarrassed-looking man in gray robes–a servant, to be sure, but a higher-ranking one.  He keeps his head inclined, eyes on the floor, and you’re certain it’s out of awkwardness just as much as respect.  “I have a message from the Baron.”

“What,” Feyd says, looking like he wants to rise from his seat and sucker-punch the messenger in the stomach.

“The Baron requires a private audience with the na-Baroness.”

Why? Your mouth opens in silent question and you furrow your brow.  You look at Feyd, whose expression is thunderous.  A muscle feathers in his jaw.  You turn to look back at the servant, knowing that no matter how much you don’t want to, there’s only one acceptable response.  “I accept.  When?”

“Presently, Na-Baroness,” he says.  

Feyd holds you tighter for a moment.  “What was his reason?” he demands.

“To congratulate her on her success so far and inquire about her health,” the messenger says.

You sigh and disentangle yourself from Feyd.  The mood had soured the moment the messenger showed up and mentioned your uncle-in-law; Feyd will be able to wait a little longer.  

The Baron’s lounging in his private throne room, with what looks like a hookah in one hand and a large goblet of wine in the other.  Two guards flank him, their heads downturned, but other than them you’re alone.  You curtsy as discreetly as your dress will allow as you acknowledge him and keep your head down.  Ostensibly it’s out of respect but you’re honestly grateful to not have to look at him any more than required.

“Congratulations on your new development, young Y/N,” he says after your show of deference.  “The Bene Gesserit are most pleased with you.” 

“Thank you, Baron,” you say, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“You’ve satisfied my nephew,” the Baron adds, setting both the wine and hookah down on either side of him.

“That pleases me to hear, Baron,” you say, trying to feel proud of how you’re not taking the bait even though you know he’s enjoying his ability to embarrass a woman from a Greater House.  You wish you could control the heat burning in your cheeks and ears.  I hate you, you think.

“As your condition progresses and after you bear the child, I’m sure he’ll do his best to temper his…biases…against mothers for your sake,” the Baron adds.  “Although it runs deep within him.”

You can’t help but look up at him in confusion.  What biases?  Feyd’s never mentioned his mother once.  Never mentioned any of what he’s been through.  

The Baron sees your confusion and his smile when he realizes the added power he has over you is truly awful to look at.

“Did my nephew not tell you about his mother?  I suppose I can’t be surprised.  He must not have wanted to upset your delicate sensibilities.”

You had her killed so you could keep him isolated.  So you could keep molesting him without interference.  I know you, you sick bastard .  And if you’re threatening me I swear on my family’s legacy I will find a way to make you suffer for it .

“He has not, Baron,” you tell him.  “He doesn’t speak of her.”  

The Baron tilts his head as much as his jowls will allow.  “So you know nothing of her?” he asks.

“I know she was a member of the Bene Gesserit,” you tell him.  “I know my husband and Rabban were the only children she produced with your brother.  I know she took your brother’s surname and was known as Emmi Rabban.  I know she’s been dead for nearly twelve years.”

The Baron straightens up a little, eyes glinting.  “So you did some research, and yet you don’t understand my comment about Feyd’s issue with mothers.”

“I can imagine the separation from her at such a young age must have taken a toll on him,” you say.  Maybe created some attachment issues, you don’t say.  You don’t want to offer up any more vulnerability, especially not on Feyd’s part.

“So you know she died when Feyd was fourteen,” he says.

“Yes, Baron.  Shortly after his attempt on your life.”  

“And what,” he asks, “based on what you’ve read, do you think her cause of death was?”

Your mouth feels dry.  He’s trying to provoke you.  Try not to let it show that it’s working .  “She was killed by Harkonnens,” you manage.

The Baron sits forward as much as his bulk will allow, looking happier than perhaps you’ve ever seen him before.  “ A Harkonnen, some claim.  One who was young and impulsive and carrying a grudge against his mother for sending him away.  But we cannot prove that, since no culprit was ever convicted, so we’ll never truly know, will we?”

You hear your own gasp as if it’s happening from outside of your body.  Pressure builds behind your eyes.  The words, I don’t believe you , die before they can reach your lips.

The Baron looks downright gleeful now.  “I can see why my dear nephew finds you so amusing.  You really had no idea?”

You lower your head, mouth opening and closing.  

Do not cry.  Under no circumstances are you to ever cry in front of this man .

It’s awful.  It’s so horrifying it never occurred to you and yet it also makes a sick kind of sense that makes you wish you could vomit out the information the Baron’s just given you, purge it from your mind and go back to several minutes ago, when even with such unexplored territory ahead of you at least you felt a level of safety, even optimism.

“The coroners say she was stabbed in the neck four times,” he adds and that’s the moment he wins and you feel yourself begin to double over, letting out a sob before covering your mouth and belatedly realizing that you’ve wrapped one arm around your belly.  Stop.  Please just stop, you want to say, and no words come out but tears do.

The door opens and the Baron’s eyes flicker to something behind you.  

“Feyd!” he calls out.  “What excellent timing.  We were just talking about you.”

You slowly turn, not wanting to look at either of them and needing to know.  Tell me it’s not true, Feyd.  Please tell me that it’s a sick joke .

Feyd inhales sharply when he sees the look on your face and glares back at his uncle.  His expression, looking stricken and then quietly furious, is his admission of guilt.

“I must say I’m a little surprised, nephew,” the Baron says and your ears ring as you see that beyond the now-opened door the servant who’d brought you here now lays motionless, bleeding out on the floor.  “I’d assumed you’d want to be honest with your delicate wife about your history, even the less savory bits.”

“You try to poison my own wife against me,” Feyd snaps.

“I’m not doing anything that wouldn’t have happened anyway, nephew,” the Baron says, reaching for his hookah again.  “She’s not stupid; she was bound to figure it out eventually, even if you were never going to tell her.”

He wasn’t , you think.  Would he have lied if I’d bothered to ask?  Or just hoped that I’d never be curious?  

Feyd looks at you.  Neither of you speak.  What is there to say?  You can’t think of anything.  You turn and start walking, needing air, needing to get away.  Feyd reaches for your arm as you pass him and you wish you were Bene Gesserit so you could properly use the Voice on him when you scream, “ No! ”  All the same he drops his hand, flinching, silent, as you leave the room with tears streaming down your cheeks.

Behind you, distantly, you hear the Baron chuckle.  “Make sure you’ve properly tamed your pet before you tame Arrakis, Feyd.  Oh, and happy birthday again.”

That is all for now but I am very much back and at close to 100k words.

Tagged: @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @wo-ming-bai @blazeflays @cavillandevanssandwhich

For anyone else who'd like to be tagged please lmk!

[deathdetermineslife]

(TW: I*cest mentions)

First, I'm saying this disclaimer because I've been told that I sound shitty sometimes in text. So, to avoid tonal confusion: This is a genuine question born from confusion, nothing else.

You selfship with a Danganronpa character who is in an incestuous relationship, who has dialogue acknowledging the i*cest and saying they don't care and still want to pursue it, but you also have 'pr*ship dni' on your profile? (I'm also anti-pr*ship, just so we're clear.) I'm just a little confused as to why? Isn't it super uncomfortable to selfship with a character who canonically has those views?

(cw for discussions of incest, abuse, and implied csa)

I understand your question comes from a place of confusion but genuinely. this is quite rude. considering you could have just... took a trip to his tags and gathered that he's a victim. also, this is very plainly said on his wiki.

however I will indulge you, in case anyone else who follows me was wondering this.

Kiyo's an example of an imperfect victim. he acknowledges that people "don't understand" the relationship he has with her, but at the same time, acts like this is the most normal thing in the world. this is how abuse works.

I don't talk about his sister very often here for obvious reasons (because she's an abuser), but I'll lightly touch on why shes abusive, even though he never says she is. another thing; just because someone (real or fictional) doesn't claim they were abused, doesn't mean they weren't. and also, just because the writers didn't intend to write him as a victim doesn't mean he isn't. intention ≠ interpretation. not the best example (since I just woke up) if someone decided to make a character who looked like a dog, acted like a dog, and sounded like a dog, but they insisted the character was a human, would that make them a human? no that's a fucking dog. so, keep that in mind. just because he never says he's a victim doesn't mean he isn't.

we don't know much about his sister other than she's sick, she's older than him, and he kills people for her. he says in this trial that since she was so sick and couldn't form relationships with other people that he had to act as her brother and her boyfriend. after her death, he started killing people to send to her in the afterlife to befriend her. that idea doesn't just... pop into your head. there's not solid proof that she manipulated him into this (other than. you don't just. wake up one morning and go "I'm gonna kill ppl to send to my dead sister"), however, we do know she controlled him in other ways, like how she made his entire uniform for him, saying his previous one "didn't suit him". this also helps defend against the "well if shes so sick, how is she abusive?"she could hand make an entire uniform for him. also, anyone can be abusive. that's a peculiar rhetoric to spread around.

another thing you don't just wake up one morning and do is engage in an incestuous relationship with your older sister. incest does not exist in a vacuum. incest is also inherently abusive because of the power dynamics. she's older than him, clearly holds some significant amount of control over him so much so that he changes his entire appearance based on her whims, and also, influenced him to become an anthropologist. he does credit her for this. and like I said, incest does not happen in a vacuum. incest between siblings most commonly occurs under extreme forms of parental neglect. not only does he never mention his parents a single time, but when she speaks through him (which I'll get to), she doesn't either. that supports the idea that, at the very least, his parents weren't around enough to know what was happening. the only person he could rely on growing up was her. clearly, his parents weren't in the picture, and still aren't.

his sister also literally fucking possessed him. so there's that. in canon, he says that she "visited him when he was doing a seance" and now she effectively possesses him. the other theories (not canon, but, would make sense) include that the sister that speaks through him is an alter, she's some form of tulpa, or that she is simply a delusion. so, here's the run down of that. if you believe the canon, that this is literally her spirit possessing him, her dialogue is, in my opinion, upsetting. to say the least. and this is how she was when she was alive. if you believe that she's an alter and that he's a system, that leads to the fact that he was abused from an early age. if you believe that she's some kind of tulpa or personality that he manufactured, no one who is mentally well and has a positive relationship with the person theyre manufacturing would do that with someone. or, if you believe that she's simply a delusion, delusions can have stemmed from trauma. there's really no option that paints her well. let's just follow canon, for the sake of this post, and read some of the things she says. here's two pieces of dialogue from her that really cement the "she's not a good person" idea in my mind;

"Sweet Korekiyo, calm yourself... Their words are all hollow. There is no meaning to any of them... You must teach these ignorant children a lesson."

"Calm yourself, Korekiyo. You mustn't raise your voice. You mustn't stutter. You mustn't lose composure. You mustn't become flustered. You mustn't waver. Look at their horrid faces. This sorry lot is not worth agonizing over."

maybe it's just the tone she says this in in the game (which unfortunately I can hear perfectly in my brain <\3), but not only does it sound deeply unnerving, what she says is unsettling as well. her usage of "you must" when she speaks to him holds this air of authority of his head. her words and tone are positively dripping with a false sense of sweetness and affection. she's saying, "calm down, don't stutter. don't lose your composure. look at them." it's very commanding. and this is her dialogue around other people. you can imagine how she acts when it's just them alone.

this may have been some kind of hallucination or something that was faked by monokuma, but she also threw salt on his spirit when he was being executed. she got what she wanted from him, and now he's useless to her.

I had more I was going to say, but, honestly this has both drained and upset me. mainly because as a victim myself who viewed my abuser similarly, reading things like "he didn't care, he chose to pursue it" rings similar to shit I've had said about myself. again I know this was a genuine question but his tags and his wiki are at your disposal. his wiki is long, however there's an entire section dedicated to her. to answer your question, no, shipping with him is not uncomfortable because he "holds different beliefs" than me. he was abused, I was, we both touted out abusers as saviors (another thing he says about her, that she "saved" him).

yea that's all I have to say for now. I'm quite drained. if uhh,,, if anyone read this and doesn't think Kiyo is a victim and is just a freak then. uhm. never come back here again . hope the door bruises both ya butt cheeks on the way out.