#memories false and otherwise

[finalgirlfall]

As in the ghost stories, the trick would be to gain the ghost-seeing faculty but not be overwhelmed by the ghosts, and Wharton cannot envision this happening. The seers occupy the same position as incest victims with limited recall, who are described as struggling between "needing to know and being afraid to see." Wharton can only imagine the characters being destroyed by their insight.

— Edith Wharton: A Study of the Short Fiction, Barbara A. White

[fuzzydreamin]

Companions (likely/rough) Ages

As of the start of the game, in 2287. From oldest to youngest.

⚙ Codsworth: ~212 ⚕ Curie: 210 (canon) ♥ Nick: ~100 (canon) ☸ Longfellow: 60's 🕶 Deacon: Late 40's ♞ Danse: Late 30's ☠ Gage: Mid to late 30's ☣ Hancock: Early to mid 30's ☀ Preston: Late 20's ☘ Cait: 27 (canon) ✉ Piper: Early to mid 20's ⨁ MacCready: 22 (canon) ☾ X6-88: ~10-15 ⌨ Ada: ~5-10 ☢ Strong: ~5-10 𓃡 Dogmeat: Immeasurable eldritch being. Unaging and undying creature of the beyond.

These are my estimations based on their own dialogue, things others might've said about them, and various bits of lore linked to their lives.

[chirpsythismorning]

How can you still think that Henry is not El's father? Look at this parallel! No hate, just trying to understand

https://www.tumblr.com/bylertruther/715418989849870336?source=share

This is the first time I’ve seen anything more substantial than the Darth Vader/Luke parallels, so I am intrigued! It is technically Vecna saying both things, both times. We see him do this with El in s3 and then Max in s4 with This will all be over soon, so he does have a penchant for repeating things for dramatic effect. BUT the fact that it is a father/daughter dynamic in this case, is quite incriminating. 

The main thing that puts me off with this theory is that it would be quite predictable? There were a lot of fans acknowledging the Darth Vader/Luke parallels between Henry/El on Reddit when s4 first premiered. Though to be fair, even now no one really takes the theory seriously, despite it being something a lot of casual fans picked up on and still bring up for discussions on there, so at least there’s that? But still, that’s just another reason why it sort of puts me off, the idea of it being this big revelation in s5, despite it being something people easily hypothesized only to discard just as quickly, and how that would be kind of disappointing? I think it being easy to guess is also why I was convinced it was simply put there as a misdirect to block people from finding out the truth?

And yet, this is pretty interesting to me and so I am intrigued at the very least!

I am convinced Joyce is El and Will’s mother though. Like 100%. Terry is very obviously placed as a misdirect, as is Lonnie (reminder that the Duffers love misdirects/red herrings).

Technically, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for Joyce to be their mother AND Henry to be their father, being that El/Will would have been born in 1970, when Joyce was 28 and Henry was 23? However, we’re also getting the play The First Shadow, which is set in 1959, when Joyce was 17 and Henry was 12, so I feel like it would be weird to establish them crossing paths all the way back then and again later in life, only for her to get pregnant? Regardless if it was like done in the lab or not, it would just be an odd choice, that's all I'm saying!

With that being said, IVF does exist. The first successful IVF procedure wasn’t until 1978, so 8 years after El and Will were born. But this is a TV show and so years can be off from time to time. This would also be a lab doing this, a lab that is known for not reporting dangerous procedures performed on unsuspecting subjects, so I wouldn't go as far as to say it's completely out of the realm of possibility.

I also do think that Henry is heavily queer-coded, so it’s likely we could get a backstory for him in s5 that sort of delves into that part of his life, and how his perceived queerness might have been what got him involved with doctors prior to Hawkins Lab. This was alluded to, with him saying he’d been poked and prodded for years, with the language surrounding it being directly tied to his queer-coding.

What this does remind me of though is Aliens (1986), which Paul Reiser aka Dr. Owens also starred in. His character Burke comes off one of the good guys early on, with him even making the classic, I’m one of the good guys jokes (same as Owens does in s2), only to end the film being the one who had been directly working against them, from the very beginning. According to the original script, he even refers to our lead character as 'kiddo' A LOT, which Owens also does throughout the series with Will in s2 and El in s4. In the film, it’s alluded to that his character signed a document setting all of this in motion, dated 6/12/79, which… fucking interesting considering what revelations we could still have in store for in regards to the lab's true origins in s5.

And so, could the lab have impregnated Joyce via IVF with Henry's sperm? Arguably, it's possible!

Maybe Henry and Joyce didn’t interact in the 70’s, but perhaps after being away from the lab for a short time, Henry was for the first time in his life in an okay place, maybe he even experienced his first love, only to lose him, with the lab perhaps taking advantage of his vulnerability, roping him back into a permanent life there? And then maybe, a few years pass, and with him being unaware, they used his DNA to impregnate Joyce? 

This could then follow the whole one kid is in the experiment group (El) and one kid is in the control group (Will) theory?

This would also perhaps fit into the Brenner being tasked with focusing on the experiment group (El) and Owens being tasked with focusing on the control group (Will).

This does remind me a lot of a couple scenes in particular...

4x05: The Nina Project

This sequence above is almost a direct parallel to El's series long recurring flashback of Terry (2x07: The Lost Sister):

El calling Terry her home, warranted a correction, because no, Terry is not El's Mama, nor her home.

And thereby repeating that scene in a sense, with Brenner saying You're home now. You're home, this time with no follow up to correct it? And with a shot that looks very freaking in terms of what the blocking could possibly signify?

Could this mean that El's home is the lab then? She was born (conceived) in the lab, which is why that is more the truth than the assumption that Terry is her mother? (El also gives off Will vibes in some of these close-ups above, where you cant see her hair length. Instead what we get is the notable Byers bob, which is interesting...)

4x08: Papa

Then there's this...

We have both Brenner and Owens attending to El, as she is having flashbacks to her birth.

And AGAIN we get this focus on this female doctor (who appears to also be rocking the Byers' hairstyle....). This is after El has finally been faced with the 'truth' regarding the massacre at Hawkins Lab, and so why are they wasting all of this crucial time having El stare in the direction of where this woman is standing, literally squinting with a confused expression? She literally looks at this woman more than she does at Brenner and Owens (that close-up of El staring directly at her before she gets the first flashback is so insane, I want to scream) And why does she appear to have identical nail polish to Terry in her flashback, with them being juxtaposed back to back in those shots?

I think that what this all could essentially mean, is that our understanding of El's birth is not what it seems.

We hear 2 baby's crying during her flashback right before she banishes Henry to the upside down in 4x07. We see that there are inconsistencies with the flashbacks, with us even seeing a baby in the womb at one point, from the perspective of El who is also in the womb, meaning she was looking at another baby alongside her??? And we even get from Terry's flashbacks a moment where one baby is being held by Brenner, followed by him looking back to the source, almost confused (bc there's one more?)? And so that then begs to question if this was an intentional twin birth, or it just ended up being the case?

I guess with all of that at play, it's hard for me to distinguish what is real and what isn't anymore.

I mean, isn't there an official still of Henry at Project Nina? Did we just scurry past that without thinking about the implications of it?

That opens up a whole new can of worms because it begs to question, again what is real and what isn't real, even further? How much are the lab in control of what is going on? Do they know what Henry's plan is based on some type of secret information we don't have? Or are they also pawns in Henry's game, making choices without even realizing that he is behind them because he is playing with time?

I guess I don't really see why Henry would turn back the clock though, in this context? Like going back to 59 and what happened back then, which led to all of this coming into play? I just struggle to understand how that would be dealt with in a way that wouldn't feel sort of like, why tho?

I also as of now subscribe to this being a time loop situation based on evidence that goes back to the very first episode. So when there's time trickery involved, I guess it's just a lot easier for me to imagine Henry turning back the clock for a specific reason, with it being in relation to Joyce and Hopper specifically (and the vague plot of the play thus far supports that possibility more to me?)

Basically the crack theory I'm subtly subscribing to rn, is that something horrible happened in the OG timeline in relation to Will/El. I think Lonnie could have been involved, and it's likely the lab was involved in covering it up because they were responsible for him as he was a volunteer who went haywire basically.

And so Henry, turning back the clock, is him making an attempt to give Will and El a second chance in a world that he views as a horrible place that let him (and them) down.

I think that could fit into Henry's motives being a lot more justified than we are expecting, with him experiencing both being impacted by the lab and having to deal with societies demands of him fitting their mold.

I am intrigued at the very least by the prospects of this being like a plan from the lab, with the focus on eggs/demogorgan imagery being inspired by the movie Aliens. I can't think much further how that would work, but I can imagine it at least!

And no offense to you, but this combined with the Darth Vader/Luke parallels still doesn't quite manage to outweigh all the foreshadowing connected to Hopper, which goes all the way back to s1, literally right after the opening credits of the pilot episode. Whereas this is starting to only be added into the narrative in s3 (barely!).

While I will continue to be open to anything and everything, I'm still leaning more towards this being a misdirect, just as Terry and Lonnie were, for an audience that has a lot of surprises in store in s5, which they couldn't see coming in the first place because of all the red herrings they fell for easily along the way.

TBH I see more connecting the Creels to the Wheelers in terms of a secret familial revelation. And I don't see that being something that would happen simultaneously with this, so for that reason, I'm out (for now at least!).

[black-rose-writings]

Ancient Aliens may be my guitly pleasure, but sometimes, it gets too stupid to watch.

[vexingwoman]

One of the things that makes arguing with men so much more draining than arguing with women is the unequal distribution of credibility and contribution.

Somehow, whenever I argue with men, it always falls upon me to both prove my own claims, and to disprove his, while he does neither; his only obligation seemingly to dole out whatever ungrounded assertions he conjures up on the spot. Somehow, it is always wordlessly established that anything I say is false until proven true, while anything he says is true until proven false.

This same dynamic happened again over on tiktok, when a man claimed women are just as violent as men. Automatically, almost as if by muscle memory, I offered up the usual statistics on male depravity: men constituting 99% of rapists, 99% of mass shooters, 98% of killers, 95% of serious domestic abusers. And his only response was to say those statistics were wrong. No elaboration; wrong simply because he said so.

I already knew how the entire conversation would pan out: I’d give him my source, he’d find a reason to discredit the source, then I’d scour the internet to find a source that suited his standards, which he’d inevitably find a reason to discredit too.

So instead I simply said, “Prove the statistics are wrong.” And that was the only thing I responded with henceforth: prove it, prove I’m wrong, prove you’re right. Thus reversing the dynamics and positing that anything I said was true unless he demonstrated otherwise; unduly putting all the onus on him while I did nothing other than decide whether he was convincing me of claims thoroughly enough—and if he wasn’t, it just meant I was winning, of course.

He blocked me, and so far so have all the other men I’ve used this approach on. I don’t know whether it’s because they couldn’t actually disprove my claims or because they couldn’t stand to be treated the same way they treat women in debates. But I think more women should do this. Stop wasting energy proving your points to men, and start making them prove theirs to you.

[a-room-of-my-own]

Neil Gaiman has been accused of sexual assault by two women with whom he was in consensual relationships and is the subject of a police complaint in New Zealand.

Gaiman’s position is that he strongly denies any allegations of non-consensual sex with the women and adds New Zealand police did not take up his offer of assistance over one woman’s complaint in 2022, which, he says, reflects its lack of substance.

However, New Zealand police said it made a “number of attempts to speak to key people as part of this investigation and those efforts remain ongoing”, adding that there are “a number of factors to take into consideration with this case, including location of all parties”.

The allegations span two decades and concern young women who came into contact with Gaiman – the 63 year-old bestselling author of The Sandman, Good Omens, and American Gods – as a nanny to his child and as a fan of his writing.

The women’s allegations were first reported in Tortoise’s podcast ‘Master: the allegations against Neil Gaiman’, released on Wednesday. The four-part series examines the women’s accounts of rough and degrading sex with the author, which they say was not always consensual.

Although the vast majority of cases of sexual assault happen within relationships, most allegations go unreported, and therefore unprosecuted, because of the expectation that alleged victims would not be in a relationship with their alleged assailant. While the law says that consent is for each and every sexual act, many people assume that a relationship provides ongoing consent.

Scarlett, 23, alleges that Gaiman sexually assaulted her within hours of their first meeting in February 2022 in a bath at his New Zealand residence, where she worked as a nanny to his child. Tortoise understands that Gaiman’s account is that they only “cuddled” and “made out” in the bath and that he had established consent for this. His position is that, over the three-week sexual relationship that followed, they only ever engaged in consensual digital penetration.

Scarlett alleges that within this otherwise consensual relationship Gaiman engaged in rough and degrading penetrative sexual acts with her. Tortoise has seen contemporaneous messages, notes, and spoken to friends who Scarlett talked to at the time, which supports her allegations.

The second woman, K, was 18 when she met Gaiman at a book signing in Sarasota, Florida in 2003. She began a romantic relationship with him when she turned 20, and Gaiman was in his mid-40s, but alleges that she submitted to rough and painful sex that “she neither wanted nor enjoyed.” In one incident she alleges Gaiman penetrated her despite her asking him not to as she was suffering from a painful infection. Gaiman’s position is that he denies any unlawful behaviour with K and is disturbed by her allegations.

Tortoise understands that he believes K’s allegations are motivated by her regret over their relationship and that Scarlett was suffering from a condition associated with false memories at the time of her relationship with him, a claim which is not supported by her medical records and medical history.

[rosesnbooks]

🩷Cancer placements🩷

disclaimer: i am not a professional and these are some observations i've read over the years and/or noticed in people i know♋

🐚Sun in cancer-they feel things deeply, and they're both vulnerable and strong because of it. people tend to underrestimate them a lot and this frustrates them. nevertheless, if well-developed, they are strong and loving people. family plays an important role in their lives, there is a certain attachment they cannot escape, nor do many of them want to. they don't reveal their true selves to the public completely because they want to uphold a certain image and protect their heart. when they try to use their emotions for creative outlets, they excell in it since their style is raw and imaginative: once they express this side of them, you'll feel their emotions like you're experiencing them too. they can hold grudges and be passive aggressive at their worst. because it takes them time to process things, who knows how long it would take for them to forgive someone. they can be so kind that it melts you completely and catches you off guard. it's so easy to love them. may be quite impressionable so they need to watch out for that

🐚Moon in cancer-very sensitive, caring, giving, and emotional. they are indeed intuitive, but they tend to come up with false impressions/conclusions because they lead with their emotions, which clouds their intuition. they love profoundly and they romanticize love a lot. it means a lot to them and therefore, it is one of their main focuses in life. they tend to idealize their crushes though. once people realize how kind they actually are, some of them try to use them. others appreciate their affections greatly. they can be ambitious when they put their mind to it. creative outlets help them explore their emotions in ways they maybe couldn't process on their own, which makes them satisfied and happy. they are very nostalgic and collect things that remind them of certain memories and people. it takes time for them to get over things and it impacts them heavily, which is why they need to have the right support around them and they need to focus on themselves in such times.

🐚Ascendant/rising in cancer-you can tell that they're cancer rising because they seem kind and sensitive, and their gaze is usually soft. they have a sweet smile too. they try to keep up with their good manners, even when they're not a fan of the person they're talking to. people tend to underestimate them because of this, which might provoke them to change their image (make it darker/more serious) if under-developed. they care about their family image in public and keeping well connections with relatives. they usually have a romantic or academic fashion style, just something that I noticed. very charming individuals who like to idealize a lot and see the best in people. also, i think that their personality is visible once they start talking to you, but their resting face may not be approachable always lol

🐚Mercury in cancer-their memory is outstanding. they just tend to memorize anything, and if you're someone really close to them, they'll use this memory to show just how much they care about you. they have an emotional way of thinking so they do take everything personally. they can jump to conclusions because of this, even if their intuition tells them otherwise. they tend to doubt themselves and their abilities even though they are really smart and capable. if developed, they can use their logical and emotional side to lead a conversation healthily. for example, they can express how they feel and if they think you're worthy of their respect, they'll approach the topic carefully so that they don't hurt you. they are really careful with words in this scenario. however, if they feel very wronged or if you talked to them while they were in a vulnerable state, they'll snap and say hurtful things because they know which buttons to push, but they feel awful afterward if they care about you. other than that, there is so much to learn from these loving individuals because they are so complex and they have a lot to give. lastly, they need to be more optimistic and not expect the worst. sometimes missed opportunities are what one needs to gain something even better later on, but yeah sometimes bad things happen too but that's a part of life. don't dwell too much on things you can't control

🐚Venus in cancer-they would give everything for their partner. they are very romantic and love their partner no matter what. that being said, they sometimes tolerate too many things due to love. this is a cliche, but most of these people want a family of their own one day, or at least a found family. they like to take care of the people they love and be there for them. they have a lot to give and not all people are like that, so it probably takes them more time than they'd like to admit to find the one who is right for them. they fantasize about romance a lot and probably have an idea of a partner they'd like. their person would have to pay lots of attention to them and accept their strong emotions without shaming them. they also need to make sure that no matter how many yeard they spend together, they should go on dates and cherish each other. venus in cancer may love cheesy and personal romantic gestures-something that is timeless but also lets the person know that they care about them. at their worst, this placement can be aggressive and manipulative, so they need to look out for that

🐚Mars in cancer-they remember everything you ever said or done, so be careful if you want to mess with them. they are really smart and ambitious, they have dreams that they wish to achieve one day and despite the obstacles they face, they have good discipline and therefore, they manage to succeed in the things they worked hard for. they can be very passive-aggressive if you disappoint them because they expect you to understand them on a deeper level since they try to do the same for the people they love. seriously, people don't talk enough about how dedicated they are to their dreams and loved ones. they can be very rational and logical, which blends amazingly with their sensitive and intuitive side (lots of empathy as well). make sure you let them know how much you love them with actions and words if you want a healthy relationship of any kind with this placement. they want people around them who make them feel safe and loved, just like family. anything less than that isn't enough

🐚Saturn in cancer-they get carried away by their emotions often, and cannot hide it really well. many people don't/didn't cherish their kindness and selflessness which hurts them greatly. they need to stand up for themselves because if they do not, they may harbor a lot of resentment which could lead to bad outcomes with those they love. wearing your heart on your sleeve and wanting the best for everyone is not a weakness, but please take care of your heart because you deserve it too. this placement can be quite intense when angry. their family has a strong influence on their life, whether good or bad. nevertheless, at least one family member is super important to them, possibly even the most important person in their life.

🐚Jupiter in cancer-they thrive best when they are true to themselves and their feelings-especially when they are not ashamed of them and simply accept them. they are very caring and thoughtful, it's addicting to be around them. besides their emotional intelligence, they are very smart in general and this helps them so much in life. their connections can be really strong and beneficial. they may be quite spiritual and interested in such topics. astrology could also be one of their passions because they could excel in it and understand it easily. may have strong connections with their family, whether one member or several (or many haha). could also have strong connections with their past and ancestors, just something i've read once.

thank you for reading this, and i'm looking forward to your feedback🩷

©rosesnbooks

[msperfect777]

time, thoughts & meditation

⭐️part six of the understanding consciousness & non dualism series

we know nothing is real and everything is imagination. all this is just an illusion bc its forms of consciousness (forms of you) that appear separate and have different labels but all they are is just consciousness.

1. time

time is an imaginary concept; it is unreal. time is not real. yes ego sees time and the clock as real just bc its "physical" but we already know nothing is real period. time is imaginary. when you imagine something, you experienced it instantly. theres no amount of time that will make you experience what you want. the moment you imagine / observe something, it exists instantly. theres no need for waiting. theres no such thing as a "time delay" bc time is imaginary. you are consciousness. you are not "powerful"... you are power itself. if you are going to limit yourself to an imaginary concept such as "time," then you have not realized your true nature (dont worry you will get there *wink).

there is no "past" or "future" bc there is only now. when you imagine something, you imagine it in the present, in the now. when "you" remember a memory of the past, you are doing that in the present, in the now. when "you" stress and imagine something that "you" expect to happen in the future, you imagine it in the now. every "second" is the now. there is only present, no past, no future. "past" and "future" are imaginary, unreal concepts.

2. thoughts

thoughts are from the ego and we already know from last post that ego is not real and that ego will make you think that you need to do something else after you already observed something in imagination. ego makes it harder to understand that everything is imagination. doesnt matter if ego understands or not bc either way, you are only consciousness and so is everything else.

even though thoughts and emotions arent real, your false self can still have doubts and feelings of discouragement which is normal. my advice is that when you become aware of thoughts and bad emotions, remember that you are consciousness; you are everything; you are power itself. stop and realize that you are just the observer (= consciousness / awareness) and those thoughts and feelings are never going to be real. as the observer, just observe the thoughts and feelings come and go. consciousness doesnt have opinions; consciousness doesnt categorize things as "right" or "wrong" or "up" or "down" or "green" or "purple". consciousness is neutral. ego is what categorizes things as "good" and "bad" bc ego is "logical" (which is also unreal). since you are neutral consciousness, observe the thoughts pass without judgement.

just be silent and observe. thats your true being. thats awareness. take a step back and remember ego is not the real you; those thoughts arent real and they are coming from (another unreal thing), the mind. thoughts come from the mind / ego as we already know is unreal and imaginary. so they are basically useless. they are just there for entertainment. nothing serious. part of understanding non dualism is realizing that bc none of this is real, we cannot take anything seriously bc this is all just a game that we create. step back and remember that consciousness is all you will ever be. calmly and silently observe the unreal thoughts and emotions. there is no need to fight or stop unreal things right? consciousness doesnt see those thoughts as "bad" or "annoying". they just are. step back and observe in silence.

3. meditation

when you think of meditation you may think of sitting on a mat in a calm yoga sitting position while listening to silence. in reality, meditation is just consciousness. consciousness is naturally meditation bc, as said before, consciousness is already, naturally calm and neutral w no opinions or judgements. when i tell you to mediate. you are already doing it, you already are it. effortlessly. but ego tells you otherwise and ego presents "messy thoughts" and while you werent aware of your true nature (consciousness), you take the thoughts seriously when they tell you "this is the right way to meditate" etc bc you think you are the body that is actually thinking these thoughts.

challenge (?):

we are naturally the observer. remember when i told you to sit back and observe the thoughts that ego sees as negative? why dont you try to be present and aware of whatever you are doing once in a while bc most of the time, "you" are just thinking about the past or stressing about the future. be present instead.

the video said "put 1000 focus" and "attention"... just know he means be completely aware on (for example) washing the dishes instead of being aware of thoughts and other nonsense while you are washing.

be your natural, meditation self and next time you look out the window, just silently observe the trees. observe the leaves and its stems and the lines and the green color. observe the texture of the bark without judgment. theres no reason to stop or argue with the mind and its thoughts and opinions. just observe them. remember: none of that is ever really happening; you are just observing consciousness (everything is consciousness / imagination). you are staring at yourself so theres no harm in that. stare at "your" hand and silently observe the lines and color. i like to stare at something in my room or close my eyes and silently observe the rain sounds outside in silence. its peaceful and thats pure awareness. if im walking on the street, i observe the people talking while observing the cars honking while observing the way the trees move from the wind while observing how "my" legs move while "i" walk on the street.

i observe my breathing and quiet the mind and thoughts and observe. if thoughts dont stop coming, i wouldnt fight it bc they are just unreal. they are harmless. i just observe the thoughts. with or without thoughts, i am always the observer. i observe what i want. silently observe. with the challenge as said: observe / be aware of the things happening in the present. dont get swept up by the unreal mind and unreal thoughts. calm, stress-less, limitless, silent, neutral, peaceful. thats awareness. thats you.

© msperfect777

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. aemond | harrenhal outtake.

— pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

— type: outtake from this series

— summary: aemond fears he is beginning to go mad.

— tw: mentions of rape, murder of an animal

— word count: 4,124

— tagging list: @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @callsignwidow @emilynissangtr

He'd never so thirsted for blood as he did the morn he and Ser Criston arrived outside those black spires of melted stone.

He had become restless, as well as Vhagar.

Your loss was beginning to eat away at what remained of his humanity.

His sanity, even.

While still residing at the Red Keep—desperate for reassurance that you would return to him—he'd gone to Helaena and begged her for some form of consolation.

He knew she could see that which others could not.

She had only served to make it all that much worse, however.

She lives, and will come to find rest in a castle of snow, with a wolf guarding her at her side, his pups growing in her belly.

She had stepped closer, Aemond nearly stumbling back.

She will raise her cup as you yourself fall. She is lost to you now. She does not wish to be found.

It had taken all his strength not to choke the life from her pale throat for speaking such falsehoods.

And now, since coming to this wretched place, he has heard whispers that used your voice—making him listen to such false prophecies over and over again.

Has seen shadows cast against the stone walls, familiar figures turning a hall and then disappearing into thin air when he followed behind.

He had hoped with what little hope was left within him that coming to a place you had never been—that the memories of you around every corner and in every room that he'd suffered at the Red Keep—would renew his resolve.

Instead, it has only fostered the opposite.

They say the castle itself passes judgement upon all those who pass through its gates. He'd thought it no more than tall tales told to frighten children before bed.

Now he thinks otherwise.

After executing Lord Simon and his kin... he'd seen the blood dripping from his hands. And no matter how hard he scrubbed—to the point of making his pale skin raw and cracked—it always returned.

He was unclean.

And then there had been that woman. That fucking temptress who always spoke in riddles.

He'd wished for silence, so he'd held her down as he forced himself upon her, whispering and crying your name while he shoved her face into the mattress. He could not look at it—did not want to see.

With her back to him...if the fire shone just right upon her hair, she was a fair enough duplicate for his beloved niece.

And while he rammed his erect member inside of her repeatedly, he had you back. Even if for only a moment.

But it would never be enough, he knew. But what other option had he now without the Street of Silk—his closest attempt at bringing you back to him, into his bed? At the very least, a bed.

And when he spent himself, he would shove her onto the floor, weeping into the mattress, ordering her "out, you whore!".

Before long, she disappeared, too.

He could've sworn by all the Gods she haunted his steps—cursing him, his name, his family, but when he would turn, he would be met only with darkness.

Aemond returns to his chambers—to a bedframe designed from weirwood, which only serves as another fucking reminder of you.

It is no wonder he finds no rest in it.

And when he opens the large, groaning doors, he halts in his tracks, lips parting as he stares with a wide eye at a vision he has only witnessed within his dreams.

You...you have returned to him.

His beloved.

His niece.

His blood.

Helaena had been wrong, then. She was a simpleton, so of course she had been. He had been such a fool to believe her for even a moment.

The room is changed—no longer are the walls cracked and leaking, nor is there a cold draft which washes over him, or looming darkness.

The hearth is blazing bright flames, the abode is clean, his bed made, and birds chirp happily outside colored window panes.

You always made everything better.

Even this cursed place.

You turn slowly round, your long locks swaying round your waist, a dress of red and black clinging to your lovely, feminine frame he has missed so dearly being within his grasp, and shimmering tears fill your eyes as they meet his.

"Uncle," you whisper, like a soft prayer.

And then you are running toward him, throwing yourself into his sturdy arms, wrapping your own around his neck as your lips collide in a clash of passion and grief.

Grief for each other. For the temporary loss of your romance.

His hand cups the back of your head, his tongue plunging into your mouth, his other arm wrapping around you, and his tears begin to mix with your own, swallowing them down, along with your heated kisses.

Then he pulls back, breaking away, wondering how this could be. "How—"

"I escaped. Gods, please, Aemond, you have to protect me! He is a savage. I did not want it—to wed him. He has made me prisoner in what is meant to be mine own home. The things he..."

You cup your hand over your mouth, choking back a sob. "I...I waited for you to come for me. Did...do you not...love me any longer? Did you forget about me?"

His heart cleaves in two.

"My beloved," he says, coming back to you, cupping your face between his hands. "Not for a moment. There were letters—"

"Like those you lost?" You ask tearfully, a doubtful look in your eyes.

His brows furrow and then he shakes his head. "No. I told you, I never received them."

"But you did these."

He nods repeatedly.

You pull away from him. "And you did not come."

You wrap your arms around yourself. "You did not care."

You begin to tremble. "The horrors he subjected me to... Forcing me. Hurting me. I felt my will to continue on... It was beginning to slip. Death seemed the only way—"

He shakes his head. "No, my love, you mustn't. I am here now."

"You abandoned me," you proclaim, pushing against his chest, tears streaming from your tired eyes.

It is only in that moment that he finally sees—the dark circles, your sunken cheekbones, your protruding collarbone, and bruises. You are covered in them.

Your lip is split, fingerprints wrapped round your throat...

What has he done to his beloved niece?

"You forgot me. You took another instead! You lied. You told me you had only ever wanted me. You left me behind!"

He pulls you to him, holding you, shooshing you. "No. No, my love, please."

Your body shakes as you sob violently into his chest. "He forced me. So many times. I begged for mercy. I thought if I screamed your name loud enough you would hear. But you wouldn't listen!"

He begins to cry as well. "Please, forgive me. Please, my love, please. I beg of you."

"First Dragonstone and then that place. That wasteland. You never came! You let me go. You wanted rid of me!"

He holds you tightly to him. "I only ever wanted you back. I had thought to..."

He shakes his head—he should've done it, then. Should've flown directly from Storm's End to the North before that man ever had a chance to freeze you in snow and ice with no escape.

"We received word that you were with child."

Your eyes meet his, a hand sliding down to rest over your stomach. "I was. And then he beat it out of me."

"My baby," you whisper, you chin wobbling. "He...said it was my fault. And when I miscarried..."

Your eyes widen in utter fucking terror. "I—he—what he..."

Your body begins to shake. "I lost him another heir. I thought...he was trying to kill me. He locked me in that...place. And when he would come... The things he used..."

Your eyes meet Aemond's, his lower lip trembling. He reaches out a hand to cup your cheek and you flinch violently away.

He is a fucking monster.

"I will kill him."

You wrap yourself around him, desperate for safety. "Please don't send me away. Back to him. I...I would rather you feed me to Vhagar before... Please, uncle. P-please, don't—"

He wraps his arms around you, doing his utmost to comfort you.

His beloved.

"We will never be parted again. Not for one moment. I make this a solemn vow to you, my love. I will raze the North and—"

You stare up at him with wild eyes, shaking your head fervently. "No, you can't leave me. You can't leave me. You can't leave me. You—"

He crushes his lips to yours then, desperate to calm your frightened heart.

By the Seven, what has this beast done to you?

He scoops you up, carrying you over to the mattress, settling into it as he cradles you in his arms. He has done this before—many-a-year ago when you were still young, and would come to him after a night terror.

You have always had a fragile mind. He will care for it now. With love and gentleness.

You are safe at last.

And one way or another, Lord Stark will pay dearly.

Aemond wraps you in a soft blanket, resting his cheek against your warm forehead, holding you close.

"I love you, Y/N. I will spend all the rest of my days doing whatever I must to earn your forgiveness for leaving you to that place. Forgive me, my love. Forgive me."

You cry quietly in his arms. "He told me that you despised me. That..."

Your voice becomes a whisper. "He convinced me of so many terrible things. He used to tell me often, that once I gave him enough children, he'd kill me. He couldn't stand to even look at me. I...what did I do wrong, uncle?"

He begins to gently rock you. "You are perfect. Every single part of you was made for me to love. And I do, and I will, and I shall. I would never raise a hand to you. And any who do shall lose as much, along with their head. You are under my protection now. You are safe."

You whimper. "I am afraid to close my eyes."

A lump forms in his throat. "All is well now. We are together. You may rest. He cannot get to you here."

You nod softly, while he presses a kiss to your hair, and you fall asleep in his arms.

When Aemond wakes, it is to an empty bed and an ache in his chest.

When he goes in search of you, you are nowhere to be found.

He interrogates guards and servants alike, demanding to know where his beloved niece has run off to—that they are to search every room; every crack and crevice until you are found and brought to him.

"N-no one entered through the gate the night last, My Prince," one young guard assures him, another nodding in agreement.

His fist wraps tightly around the pommel of his sword. "I had her. She came back to me! She was here!"

They look at him in fear, but repeat themselves nonetheless.

"A dream," he finally mumbles. "Or a nightmare."

He does not eat that day.

Come that night, he tosses and turns in bed, sure that every noise he hears will be you finally coming out of hiding—you will apologize and explain yourself to him: where you have been all day.

Not in his arms as you were meant to be, that much is for certain.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes him—the raging tempest that is his mind quiets as darkness fills his singular source of vision.

"Uncle," your voice calls from a room away. "Where are you? I'm so lonely here."

He flees his chambers in search of you.

"Uncle," you say, the word drifting on cold winds.

The room next to his own? No. He...he had searched it. Hadn't he?

He throws the doors open, finding you seated upon the edge of your bed, making yourself busy with a familiar-looking piece of embroidery—initials sewn together as one, crudely-so.

And then you look up from it, your eyes filling with relief.

"There you are," you say, standing, coming toward him. "I...I had waited all day."

He takes your face in his hands.

"What farce is this?" He questions harshly.

Your eyes fill with tears, body beginning to shake. "You're angry with me. You're going to hurt me. Just like he did."

His gaze softens. "My love—"

You try to pull away. "It's why you put me in here, isn't it? I thought you said we would stay together. But when I went to your chambers, you had locked me out."

He shakes his head. "I would never."

You press yourself to his chest then. "Where have you been? I was so lonely here. I...I had waited all day."

He cradles the back of your head in his palm. "I'm here now, my beloved niece. Forgive me."

You pull back, looking up at him. "There is...something I want."

"Anything," he replies in a whisper.

You reach down, tugging at the bow tied at the front of your robe. "Teach me," you say quietly, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

"You were always meant to," you say, cupping his cheek. "Uncle."

His hands overtake yours.

"You had been my first in so many ways. But not in this. It was stolen from us. I wish to take it back. I am yours. Yours, Aemond. I belong to you. I have always."

Your robe falls open and he breathes in a sharp intake of breath as his eyes trail along your lovely, womanly body.

He slides his hands along each of your soft hips, swallowing thickly.

So long. So long he has waited for and wanted this. So many nights has found him abed with his cock fisted tightly in his hand, your name spilling from his lips, his seed onto the sheets instead of inside of you where it belonged, so it might bloom into fruit within your fertile womb.

For you are the only woman he desires to bear him children.

Children that would be perfect reflections of your equally perfect union.

He would love them with all his heart, just as he does you.

This night he will make it so. He will give you a babe. You are too maternal to not be a mother. He will right this wrong—will erase what that godless beast has done.

He pulls you toward him, your robe falling to the floor and pooling at your feet as he crushes his lips to your delicate lips, his tongue slowly exploring the taste of you.

And it is of the sweetest nectar.

He drinks it down greedily.

Your fingers tangle in his silver strands, your body melding to his as he trails his mouth lower. Along your neck, atop your breasts—between them he plants open-mouthed kisses.

He slides his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you, carrying you over to the bed.

He tosses you down gently and you giggle, causing him to smile widely in return.

You reach upwards for him, and he gives himself to you, continuing to give you affectionate kisses as he begins to undress.

And once his warm skin meets your own, he eases his throbbing cock between your warm, velvety walls.

The two of you fit together so perfectly. Just as you always have.

You had been made for him alone to love.

He rocks his hips slowly against your own and you sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you turn your head, allowing him access to your neck. He sucks gently at your hammering pulse and you mewl in approval, clenching tightly around him.

"Oh, uncle," you whisper, causing his cock to twitch.

"My beloved niece," he drawls against the shell of your ear. "One lifetime of having you will not be near enough."

You turn your head back to look at him, smiling with tears of happiness shimmering in your warm brown eyes. "Then let us bind ourselves for eternity."

He cares naught that you are still legally wed. He shall not acknowledge it. Any who try will be met with raging dragonfire.

It will be, before long, as if that northern savage never existed.

He nods, kissing you. "Come the morn, we shall."

He is alone again. In an unmade bed—his dried seed spent upon the mattress.

Still naked, he rises with an unquenchable fire burning deep in his belly as he tears the room apart, roaring like Vhagar does atop the burnt towers at having lost you yet again.

It is then he begins to realize that Harrenhal is not to be held, but instead serves only to hold... Ones mind against their will.

He would rather be lost in madness for all time than to have you, only to lose you again and again come sunrise.

If sleep is the only place you may be together, then he chooses not to wake.

He returns to his own chambers—still naked—and buries his face in his feather pillows, desperate to have you returned to him.

In his mind's exhaustion, it does not take long for him to find sleep.

"There you are," you say softly as Aemond slowly steps toward you, brows furrowed.

How did he get here? Back to the Red Keep?

You turn and his eye widens.

You slide your dainty hands along your swollen belly, caressing it lovingly as you smile at him. "Baelon is asleep, we should not wake him."

He glances across the room toward a large four-post bed, a small bundle wrapped in blankets, sleeping soundly.

He steps over to him, eye filling with tears as he takes in his head of silver hair.

You take Aemond's arm, wrapping your own around it as you gaze down at your son. "He so looks like you. At least he has my eyes."

Aemond's chin wobbles.

You reach up, cupping his cheek as you sigh softly. "I've told you about this. When we are alone," you say, gently removing his eyepatch. "I want to see you. All of you."

You take his hands in yours then, pressing them to your belly.

You lightly squeeze his right hand. "She sleeps with her head here," you state before squeezing his left hand. "And her feet here."

His eye meets yours.

You flush. "I know there is no way to know for certain until I bring her into the world, but it is simply a feeling. That it is a girl."

You look to your sleeping son. "He will be such a wonderful brother to her. I am sure of it."

You tuck a loose strand behind Aemond's ear, a sapphire ring glinting upon your marriage finger. "We've made such a perfect life, uncle. You have made me so happy."

He kneels then, pressing a kiss to your belly, resting his forehead against it as he begins to cry softly. "Stay with me," he whispers.

There is a sudden knock at the door then. "My prince!"

You bristle. "They are meant to address you as king now. Why—"

"Prince Aemond!"

He stands, feeling as if he is about to lose something of great import. Aemond crushes his lips against yours, holding you tightly to him.

"I don't want to go," he says, crying into your soft brown hair.

Just then, the doors open.

As well as his eyes.

He begins to weep for the children he never got a chance to hold.

Aemond does not listen as his squire enters the room where he and his makeshift court are meeting to discuss battle plans.

Something about a lake, or a shore, and defeat.

He cares not.

He glances up, his body tensing as he watches you walk across the room, a broom in-hand as you begin to sweep the floor.

He stands abruptly, all eyes turning toward him.

"What're you doing?"

You turn, looking at him with a blank expression, then continue on with your chore.

He rounds the table, grabbing you roughly, turning you back around as he begins to shake you. "Where are they? Our...our little ones? I did not get a chance to—"

"My prince?" A man speaks from behind him.

Aemond turns his head reluctantly back to him.

"What is it?" He spits.

He stands. "Are you...quite well?"

The man glances away, nodding toward you then. "Perhaps...Julia should find another room to tend. So as to prevent further...distracting you, My Prince."

Aemond scoffs at him. "Jul—"

He turns back around, then suddenly releases his hold, stumbling as he gazes upon an unfamiliar face that is two decades too old, with hair too red in color to be right.

"I—" he starts, then stops.

The woman quickly curtsies before quickly stepping away.

Aemond shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the ringing and whispers gathering in his ears.

He seats himself once more, and someone clears their throat, speaking of political matters which mean nothing to him as he himself broods.

When Aemond returns to his chambers, his mind is swimming, his body feeling as if it is both heavy as lead and floating like a cloud in the sky simultaneously.

When he shuts the doors behind him, the lighting suddenly changes, growing warmer and brighter.

He steps further into the room, watching as a girl sits before the fire, a small wolf pup to one side of her, a bronze dragon with green and blue that reflects off of the flames to the other.

She begins to sing Two Hearts That Beat as One as the dragon breathes a puff of smoke, before crawling up her small leg, watching her with its head cocked in interest.

She cuts the song short, sighing, turning away from the creature, which deflates with sadness at her loss of attention.

She giggles as the small wolf pup barks at her, wagging its tail.

She picks it up, holding it high as she begins to sing The Winter Maid with glee.

When she finishes, she hugs the pet to her chest.

"I think you are my new favorite," she says happily.

Aemond's stomach turns then, coming closer, and closer, the dragon crying out in pain at her side—her seemingly oblivious to it as she stands, cradling the pup in her arms.

And then her familiar eyes meet his.

"Uncle," she starts before glancing down with a smile. "I love him."

Is it meant to be you...this new torturesome vision.

He sneers as he looks at the pup, which growls back at him, its hackles raised.

"You are meant to be with a dragon. Not a wolf," he spits.

Your smile falls as you stare up at him with a glare. "I made my choice. I know which one I want."

He nods toward the dragon, watching it slowly die before the fire. "You would abandon it so easily? Would forget the joy it provided for you? The protection and love it can still yet give?"

He looks at the wolf. "For a fucking dog?"

You hold it closer to you. "I am his and he is mine."

His palm twitches at his side before coming to grip the hilt of the catspaw dagger which hangs from his hip.

"I am giving you one last chance, beloved niece," he says acidically. "Give up this bit of ridiculous pretend before you force my hand."

You back away in fear, the wolf howling and barking incessantly. "P-please don't. I've done nothing wrong."

He stalks toward you. "What is wrong here is your choice."

He looks to the dragon, which crawls closer to the fire, desperate for warmth, near to burning itself it wants it so dearly.

And then his eye flits back to you. "Choose."

"I—"

"Choose!"

Tears fills your eyes. "We are happy. Please just let us be."

He reaches for the wolf, having had enough.

You scream in terror as he tears it from your arms.

"Please, please, uncle! Don't! I am begging you! I'll do anything! Please, not him! There will be no going back!"

He holds the blade toward its throat. "We shall be miserable together, then."

You let out a guttural high-pitched scream of agony as he slices the wolf's throat open, blood coating his hands, pooling on the stone floor.

It is as you lunge toward him with a look of such loathing that he has never before witnessed...that he wakes.

[uplatterme]

false god

—sub!dainsleif/dom!amab!reader, priest!reader | reader is called ‘father’, throatfucking, cockstepping, first half is plot and then the other is filth.

—and after posting about writing for dain since january, i actually finally finished one for him!

This isn’t the first time that such a thing had happened to the Bough Keeper.

Such a thing was, accidentally teleporting himself to a place he didn’t mean to, partly due to exhaustion and sleepless nights.

It was often like these that the immortality cast upon him mocked him more than anything. 

Droplets of water started to fall onto his hair, then eventually onto his body. He stares into the dark sky, the coldness of the rain bringing more comfort than it does harm.

Dainsleif sighs, and instead of teleporting away to his right destination, he starts to walk and explore this newfound place.

There isn’t much to say about where he’s landed himself, and frankly, he’s thankful for that. Silence is a gift for him nowadays and even when he’s isolated, it’s rare that he isn’t plagued by awful memories that keep him from just closing his eyes for longer than a few minutes.

His slow steps are halted though, when he sees that he has brought himself in front of a very peculiar building. The rain continues to soak his body as the man stares at the white architecture and the statue that is displayed in front.

He chuckles. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. His luck had never been the one to land on his side, he didn’t know why he expected otherwise.

It’s quite big for a chapel, especially since he doesn’t recognize the figure in front. Still, it’s one of a god’s, nonetheless. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised considering the lengths that devotees had gone to.

His curiosity gets the best of him when he goes nearer the said building, wanting to examine the sculpture. However, before he could even get a closer look, the wooden entrance opens.

The Khaenri'ahn’s first instinct is to transport himself away but finds that to be useless as he meets the eyes of another. What he didn’t expect next, is genuine worry.

“My goodness! Are you alright?” 

He almost gets confused as to why one would react in such horror. He doesn’t have any blood on him, does he?

Dainsleif looks down, not wanting to traumatize a random stranger…and discovers that there’s nothing wrong with him?

He lifts his head back up, only to find you nowhere near the doors of the chapel. He wonders where you are for a quick second until he feels something warm covering his body.

“I hope my robe will make do…Come on, get inside. You must be cold.” His reluctance is evident in his face but before he can even say anything, he’s pushed inside the chapel, much to his distaste.

Him stepping inside such a place was too much for him already that he forgot the fact that he’s wearing a robe, one that he assumed was no ordinary one.

Dainleif wants to take it off and so he tries to, at least.

“Keep it. I apologize I don’t have any spare clothes at the moment.”

He really does not want to wear a priest’s robe. 

“Did you come here for the mass? I’m afraid it ended an hour ago…Ah, but you can still stay until the rain stops.” You offer generously.

“No. I just happened to be passing by.” He explains.

He watches as your mouth gapes, looking for the words to say after you’ve just brought him in here out of his will.

“That makes sense…I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. Not that it matters, you can still stay. The Chapel of our God is glad to help any troubled souls.”

He takes offense at that. 

“Troubled, you say? That’s quite a big assumption of a man you’ve just met.” His tone is as monotone as ever, yet that doesn’t hide the disdainful look that lingers in his bright eyes.

You muse.

“Ah yes, a non-troubled person that enjoys looking gloomy and letting the rain pour all over them.”

Dainsleif bites his tongue at that.

“I’ll show you around.”

While it does interest him that this chapel worships a god that isn’t of the seven, that doesn’t mean that he wants to learn more about a dead god who was defeated in the archon war just like the others. Although he presumes that the way you tell of their tales makes it somewhat bearable.

Even if it’s not what he expected.

It’s not as overwhelming as he had thought, but perhaps that was due to the lack of nuns he usually sees when it comes to churches.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask fondly, stopping your rambling about your said god just to listen to him.

“Does this place have many attendees?”

“Not quite…but it’s a lot if you consider they’re followers of a God who isn’t one of the seven.”

Frankly, Dainsleif doesn’t get it. It’s not as if all these masses you lead would ever lead to something else. It’s just wasted hard work, if he’s to be brutally honest.

He can tell that there’s a lot of admiration and work you have put into this, but for what reason? What reason is there to keep spreading the word of someone you haven’t even personally met?

Would your faith waiver if knowledge of your god performing deemed evil acts is brought upon you?

“Should we continue the tour?” You ask.

He politely shakes his head, thoughts still lingering in his head.

“We must adhere to these values that our God has specified in their writings…that our way of living as a mortal is something that should be celebrated and not frowned upon…”

The non-believer sits at the last row of the chapel, somewhat half-heartedly listening to your words as you read passages from a book in your hands.

He only watches, observing the entire view in front of him. How people reply in unison whenever you say a certain phrase, an exchange that he finds to be quite strange. 

The mass isn’t that long, yet you still manage to lead that hour with grace, making sure that every part of it goes well without any fault.

How you stand to the side, leaning on the podium with a smile as everyone sings along with the choir.

Dainsleif’s eyes meet yours and he sees you mouth a greeting to him.

…He supposed that he can stay for a minute when everyone has gone.

He sees you grin as you start walking towards him, your robe neat and tidy as ever.

Surprisingly, he speaks first.

“I’m surprised you still have a recollection of me.”

“It’s only been a few months.” You reply, your voice soft and soothing, unlike the way you spoke as you preached earlier.

Most people would choose to forget. “You’re different in person than you are earlier.”

“Perhaps.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the chapel, the mosaic windows dim the bright sunlight from the outside but that only results in the colored glass reflecting stunningly on your face.

He takes the initiative and speaks again.

“Is it because I’m not a follower?”

Your breathing catches on his ear. “Maybe.”

He wonders if you know of his lineage and if that’s the reason why you had kept an eye out for him, suspicions rousing through your brain.

“Father.” The change of tone to formality shocks you a little that you were forced to question why he’s suddenly calling you that.

Your awkward chuckle echoes through the building. “What are you calling me that for?”

“Just seeing if your attitude would change. If you’re truly as honest as you present yourself to be.”

You click your tongue. “Is there a reason you came here?”

There it is. A snarky tone. He knew he was right to come back here. 

Why was he sent here before? Was someone playing tricks on him? The Abyss? The gods? He knows there has to be a reason for him being teleported here that day.

“May I ask how someone becomes a member of your church, Father?”

He hears you sigh deeply. Why?

Aren’t more members what you want and need?

“If that’s how you want to do this then…I’ll amuse you. Follow me, troubled one.”

Dainsleif’s fists close at the nickname.

He’s brought to a room that you once showed him the previous time that he was here. You never explained what exactly this room was for as he left just before you got to.

There’s a small fountain, clear and blue flowing through it.

“This is a small tradition we have. It’s based on one of the writings that…you haven’t read, but that’s alright. It’s not that difficult to follow.” You start to explain.

“It’s a symbol of starting anew, to wash yourself of the regrets you have.” 

“And if I do not have any?” He questions.

“You do. Everyone does, even Gods.”

“You think gods regret the things they’ve done.” His patience is thinning inch by inch. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

“That I do. According to one of the passages that—”

“How exactly do I know whether what you’re saying is genuine or just out of a damn book?” He interrupts.

You stare at him with a disapproving look. “You’re deflecting.”

“Excuse me?” 

“What is it that troubles you?”

Nothing. He’s fine. He’s done with everything, there’s no use in pondering over what could’ve and should’ve been.

“Don’t act as if you’re superior to me.” He says, visibly upset.

“So much for becoming a believer.” 

That’s when the grin is swayed off your face in just a few seconds as Dainsleif pins you to the wall, your head slightly tilted up as he grips tightly on your collar.

“Who sent you?” His enchanting eyes cross yours, not even a shade of fear in them.

“What exactly have you gone through that you think everything is out to get you?”

He stills at that. You’re not trying to push him off.

Instead, you’re conversing with him like he’s a lost lamb who’s unsure of where to go. An amenable priest who listens and asks.

He lets go. Your robe is now crinkled, and the mark of his fist is clearly evident.

You sit on the bench near the fountain, patting the empty space right next to it. Dainsleif refuses the offer, choosing to continue standing while he searches for the next words he’d like to say.

You smile.

“You don’t have to apologize or continue this. It doesn’t mean anything anyways if you don’t take it to heart.”

It’s such a strange sentence to hear from someone like you. You’re not..forcing him nor are you trying to sell him your ways by threatening him of what he may face if he doesn’t.

The Khaenri'ahn sighs, the words of apology already at the tip of his tongue.

“I’d prefer it if we were to continue.”

“You would?”

“I can still change my mind.” He jests, seeing you beam from ear to ear.

Dainsleif slowly walks towards the fountain, sitting beside you and laying his head down on your shoulder. The gesture is surprising to the priest but it isn’t turned away.

“I hope you’re quite ready, Father. This might take a while.” He says with his eyes closed.

“Confess your regrets, my troubled one.”

Eventually, it becomes a habit of his to visit you whenever he’s plagued with thoughts that make him anxious and question his choices.

And each time, you’re there to give advice. To lend a shoulder, and sometimes a little more than that.

He will never worship a god, but he’ll sure as hell worship you.

Dainsleif always waits patiently in the last row, watching you and listening to how your voice sounded rather than the message you’re conveying.

It’s soothing, in a way.

He doesn’t say a thing and only waits as you walk down the aisle with a smile.

It’s a silent exchange.

You place your hand on his shoulder and Dainsleif rubs the side of his chin on your hand, his eyes shut. 

“Dainsleif.”

“Yes, Father?” He teases, a smirk forming on his face before opening his eyes.

Your fingers lift his head slightly before bending down to reach his soft lips. He doesn’t pull away, he presses them further as if it’s his salvation. 

It’s somewhat sick that he’s found comfort in someone like you. He contemplates whether he’s walking the path of failure that the gods have planned, if this whole thing will eventually turn over just to punish him even more.

In the end, it’ll all be his fault. He’s the one who revealed secrets that you’ve never asked for.

“You’re making that face again, Dain.” You speak.

“What face?”

“The kind you make when you’re overthinking things. The one I want to get rid of.”

Dainsleif reaches for your hand, asking even if he knows the answer. “Pray tell, how exactly?”

“It makes me wonder if it’s a turn on of yours to get fucked in a place of worship.”

“Like how it’s a turn on for you when I’m on my knees and calling you Father?”

You laugh, caressing his hair as you look down on him.

“You don’t even worship the God of this place.” He looks so sweet like that, his head between your legs. Such beauty ready to kneel for you and do whatever if you ask him kindly.

“What’s the need when I already worship you?” Dainsleif says and takes you in.

Dainsleif never imagined he’d gladly be spending his time inside of a chapel, right in front of empty seats where anyone can walk in through those wooden doors, acting as if the altar is your hips.

And yet he’s letting you use his mouth eagerly, so used to how you taste that sometimes he himself craves for it when you two are separated.

“That’s right, love. Just think of me.” 

He groans as you push further into his throat, his eyes wandering to you despite his breathing getting obstructed.

He loves the things you do. Whether it be hearing you talk so dearly to him, tugging his hair with the right amount of pull, or the way you fill his mouth nicely like this.

It’s yours.

The sound that escapes his throat when your foot presses directly on his crotch is loud and lewd, echoing through the empty chapel.

His cheeks lightly flush, grumbling something incoherent.

“Speak clearly, my lamb.”

He rolls his eyes at the mischievousness of your voice. You know he can’t, and yet you’re still asking him to do so.

He follows still, of course.

“M-Mo—ah!” 

Dainsleif chokes as he tries to speak.

“Too much for you?”

He shakes his head and tries again.

“Mow—Moah-”

It’s not working. He’s stuffed full to even say it.

“Come on,” Your foot steps on his cock again. “There’s another way to plead. I’m sure a smart devotee of mine can figure that out.”

His chest heaves, trying to calm his breathing from the pressure and whining as it stops.

That’s when Dainsleif moves of his own accord, taking you even deeper than you already were. You can feel the vibrations from when he slowly pants, breathing through his nose more so he won’t pass out.

He bats his eyelashes at you, with a face full of sin.

Tears are starting to form in his eyes.

Please.

Dainsleif gags on your cock again, moaning impurely when your foot begins to knead more aggressively on his pants.

Your shoe adds even more stimulation and his cock aches wanting, no, begging for a release.

“Such a sinful body, no wonder the gods haven’t been blessing you.”

Fuck.

He continues to whimper, sucking your cock needily and knowing you’ll stop if he doesn’t do well.

“You get on your knees to be a slut, I wonder if they’ve bruised already.”

They do. They always do when you fuck his throat like this.

His mind is hazy and he’s close, he’s so—

“Hmgh!—”

“Not yet. Be patient.”

His body wants to buck down when you remove the pressure just seconds before he cums, but your hold on his head keeps him from doing that and he’s left to whine painfully.

The tears in his eyes finally fall and he stares up at you to be merciful, to let him have this one since it’s been a month of waiting to finally have you get him off like this.

“You want it?”

He nods and whines, begging for you to hear him out.

“Alright.”

When he gets permission, he sobs out on your cock, cumming inside in his own pants and soiling the floor. You feel how warm his breath is, his body is tired and trembling, but he keeps trying to make you finish as if it’s the only thing he’s made for. Even if he’s barely doing it well, too drunk with his tongue tired already.

The sight of that is enough to get you off.

Dainsleif tries to swallow but he doesn’t do it fully, cum dripping down his chin and coughing on the amount he can’t.

He finds it a waste that he isn’t able to. He stares, wondering if he should clean it up.

“Dain, it’s fine. You did amazing.”

His heart softens.

“Let me help you out, love.”

His head rests on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair. A tradition that you two somehow have ended up doing each time you finish.

He thinks it’s sweet and funny that you act so soft despite the things you say when having sex.

“Tell me.” You say.

“Tell you what?”

“What’s bothering you?” You question.

Dainsleif only snickers at that.

It’s you, Father.

[finalgirlfall]

A number of participants reported witnessing and/or being subject to their father's domestic violence in the home. In their accounts, the police refused to intervene when men battered their wives, and their battered mothers were provided with no alternatives by family, friends or the authorities. Most participants grew up prior to the advent of domestic violence services and no-fault divorce in the 1970s and hence their mothers had few options available to them if they sought to bring their abuse, or the abuse of their children, to an end. Even where abuse was absent in their house, participants indicated that, if they wanted, fathers could, and did, impose silence when faced with distress, ignore and invalidate unwanted opinions, withhold healthcare if they did not view an injury as deserving of attention, and control the flow of economic resources in such a way as to curtail the freedoms of their wives and children.

Michael Salter, "The experiences of survivors: Extraordinary crimes in everyday life,” in Organised Sexual Abuse, EPUB ed. (New York, NY: Routledge, 2012).

[etaleah]

Seems like there are some headcanons about Shadow being tortured or otherwise mistreated/abused by Gerald and the other scientists, so naturally there’s folks saying, “There’s no evidence for it! That never happened!”

But here’s the thing: there’s more than one kind of torture. And I would argue there’s more evidence than you’d think.

When we think about torture, our brains tend to default to the most extreme examples, like water boarding and cracking a whip, but those aren’t the only ways to torture somebody. It’s worth remembering that Gerald literally implanted false memories into Shadow’s brain. He made it so that Shadow could not trust his own memory. His own head was lying to him. He thought an altered memory of Maria was real. How is screwing with someone’s memory and mind like that not a form of torture?

It’s also worth remembering that Gerald Robotnik and presumably his research team were VERY willing to cross or at least bend ethical lines to get what they wanted. They were willing to make a literal deal with the devil, potentially sacrificing all of humanity in the process. They did the same thing that the parents in My Sister’s Keeper did, create a living being with the intention of saving another living being, without any thought to how the created living being would feel about that. Gerald refers to Shadow as “It” in his diary in SA2, revealing that he did not see him as a person. And this is without even getting into the fact that Gerald was crazy enough to blow up the whole world because of what a few military folks did. A plan that would have gotten Shadow killed too and almost did, not that he cared.

You’re telling me that guy wouldn’t have been willing to medically abuse Shadow and insist it was justified because Maria?

To me, the most interesting what-ifs about Shadow being mistreated on the Ark are situations where he doesn’t know he’s being mistreated, because he trusts the people around him to have his best interests at heart, since at this point he has very limited life experience and doesn’t think he has any reason not to.

Do I think Gerald or the scientists ever took off their belts and beat him? No. There wouldn’t have been any reason for that and Shadow wouldn’t have allowed it. But do I think they could have crossed a few more ethical lines during their tests and research on Shadow? Absolutely.

I could see them getting Shadow’s consent to do a blood test and then taking a little more blood than they actually needed to see what else they could do with it, not caring that it would weaken him or make him dizzy. I could see them telling Shadow that a procedure is for Maria’s cure when it’s actually for weapons development, or telling him something won’t hurt when it will, and then acting like they didn’t know. I could see them knowingly pushing Shadow past his limits during the testing/training and then insisting he just wasn’t trying hard enough. I could see them not offering him pain relievers even though he’s in pain because how else will they get an accurate measurement of the ultimate life form’s endurance and healing capabilities? And hey, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? They don’t have to tell him that pain relievers are an option.

You’d be surprised at how well abusive family members can hide their abuse. Sometimes they hide it so well that not even the victim knows they’re doing it.

And honestly? I think there’s a reason that, out of all the people who would have been on the Ark, Maria is the only person Shadow misses. I think there is definitely a reason he never mentions missing anyone else.

[tossawary]

I do like time travel fics for a variety of reasons. It can be fun to see a "perfect run" fix-it fic running through the canon storyline again. There is a little suspension of disbelief required for some of them, because at some point, the little changes for the better or big tragedies averted should start to mess with the world. Very good time travel fics take this Butterfly Effect into account.

It is VERY fun to think about time-traveling characters who immediately break the plot, because they fail to or don't even try to keep things on a certain track. I love seeing authors use this jumping point to explore entirely new directions for canon. It's off-roading time!!!

Some characters are happy to work within the systems of their worlds. They'll put up with the little indignities of having do to things again and are able to act their way through a redo. (And apparently have incredibly good memories, like, damn.) The cost of keeping things roughly the same is something that they're willing to pay in order to reap specific benefits at the end of the journey.

Other characters would prefer to break the systems of their worlds. They have no patience to play by someone else's rules if they have the power to do otherwise. They may think that the world is broken as it is and needs to be changed. They may be unable to let certain injustices happen again no matter the cost to their ability to predict the future. (I admit, I have a preference for this, because I think it's more interesting, and if the protagonist is a heroic figure, I like the idea that every single life is worth trying to save if you can try.)

Anyway, this is all to say that I just read the last 100 chapters of "Naruto" and apparently Naruto was the only person keeping Sasuke from following through on his unhinged and vague supervillain plans at the end there. If you sent Sasuke back into the past, let's say from a battle with Kaguya going poorly back to the Uchiha massacre or something, and he retains his adult body or any of his abilities (full Sharingan + Rinnegan)? I cannot see that Sasuke trying to give Konoha a shot again. I don't think he trusts like that anymore.

I think he would immediately 1) kill Itachi if Itachi forces him to do it and he can't convince Itachi to join his side, 2) kill Danzo and any ROOT agents who get in his way, (2.5) kill Zetsu and Madara if he can find and catch them, and also Obito if Obito forces him,) 3) kill or try to kill the Third Hokage, and potentially 4) try to declare himself the new Fifth Hokage. Winning a lot of these fights just by taking eeeeeverybody by surprise. Or something like that, you know? I think he'd at least try to immediately do some reckless revenge murder.

If time-traveling Sasuke is stuck in his child body for a redo, and can't set himself up as the new dictator of Konoha or the new shared enemy of the shinobi world or whatever, then I think that he might just run off and join Orochimaru again. I think he would make early deals with Orochimaru for the relative freedom that offers.

Like, Sasuke just does not strike me as a particularly stable person who gives a shit about maintaining a comfortable life for everyone around him. He does not care about Konoha's image. He does not want to settle complacently into a comfortable life within this corrupt state. I think he'd rather drag out the rot and set everything on fire than sit through the frustrating false civility of politics or go to school again, if he had any choice in the matter.

A time-traveling Sasuke would not behave like a time-traveling Naruto or Sakura! So, if I had to do a time-traveling Sasuke, I'd probably reach for the "break-it" rather than the "fix-it". Konoha struggles to deal with this new, mysterious, Rinnegan-wielding Uchiha who appeared out of the middle of an incomplete massacre, just killed the Hokage, and declared himself the new one, completing the Uchiha coup at the eleventh hour. (People are saying he looks like Uchiha Izuna come back to life, apparently???) Oh, shit, someone secretly go get Tsunade and Jiraiya right now, fuck.

[meanbossart]

Omg omg Meanboss i saw ur Patreon Post rn aaaaand now i can't stop thinking about how Astarion and Drow would react and grieve, if one of them died. Do u have any thoughts to that?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. I'm almost reluctant to answer this because I feel like this is absolutely DU drow's ugliest side, LOL.

So let me put off the inevitable and start with Astarion: the unlikely more well-adjusted half when it comes to this - if you can call total desensitization being "well adjusted", at least.

Astarion has led hundreds of people to their deaths after supposedly earning their trust, care and attention - I'm not saying every single one of his outings ended in heart-break, in fact the vast majority were probably completely impersonal one-night stands, but at SOME POINT in Astarion's life he must have held some care for people or at least an aversion to the idea of manipulating them into death's maw - until he had to do it over, and over, and over, and over again.

It's very clear to me that Astarion managed to completely shut his empathy out, as well as his sense of attachment especially in the short-term. Those things still exist within him but are like a weak flame he has to keep feeding with kindling if he wants it to stick around; and it would be far easier to just extinguish it at once. If someone close to him were to die, especially unexpectedly, he'd just stomp it out for good and move on as if nothing had happened, probably unable to form another relationship like it for at the very least a couple of years but otherwise remain perfectly functional, and, by all intends and purposes, have gotten over the loss exceptionally quickly.

Obviously, if we're talking about DU drow's death, this would change over time and depend on how long they remained together for. I can't tell you how 500-year-old Astarion would react to the loss of his loved one (too many variables to consider) but one can expect the concept to become harder to accept the more used he grows to someone's permanence.

Now, the drow. He does not deal well with losing, and that applies to people just as well as it applies to concepts and objects. I think he can wrap his mind around the idea of someone dying of old-age, but anything short of that is akin to being stolen from.

Which brings us to Astarion's immortality, and the false sense of security that that brings DU drow. In his mind, if he is immortal, that simply means he won't ever die. This is, to him, is a certain fact the vast majority of the time,save for the rare and brief occasion where he has to face a different reality. This also means that if Astarion ever dies, that is obviously due to a tremendous failure in DU drow's part.

I simply do not think he would get over it. Much like the scenario with Villain DU drow where Orin's death basically begins the countdown for his own, his ambitions from that point forward would cap at revenge, and done that, he would either become something profoundly ugly or just let himself rot. I think this is just... Something inherit to him and the way he functions, making the former memory loss a blessing in even more ways than it already is.

He'd probably also try to resurrect him, but for all his desperation I can at least tell you that he wouldn't fall for/settle for anything lesser than his beloved with their cognizance fully intact, nor do anything that could destroy their corpse. He, uh, Is gonna need that.

[t1red-twilight]

go ahead and cry

summary: reader and spencer bond over daddy issues.

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, slight fluff, cursing, trauma, daddy issues on both ends (spence and reader), no use of y/n, mention of self harm, ptsd, dissociation, lmk if i missed anything

notes: i have daddy issues (rip), and i wrote this as a way to cope with that (rip). so, this could be seen as being trauma dumping (do not read if you’re not comfortable with that). i wanted to acknowledge this in a separate section other than just the warnings. otherwise, this fic is very personal to me. i hope you enjoy it! ily!<3

word count: 2k

masterlist

you were driving spencer home from work. the air between the two of you felt tense; it had been this way since the second half of the work day at the office.

he couldn’t remember when you had started acting differently, just that at some point after lunch you started acting more melancholic. you had gotten so good at hiding this aspect of yourself that nobody noticed, or at least nobody that knew you as well as spencer noticed.

the soft hum of the music from the radio filled the silence, but the sadness emanating from you wafted throughout the car. he didn’t know how to address the situation at first, so he just sat and puzzled his mind for any sort of way to talk to you.

you, however, noticed that spencer was stuck in his head. “hey, are you alright?” you glanced over to him quickly then back to the road. you clicked the signal down and changed lanes. the clicking could be heard over the radio.

“uh, yeah? are you okay?” he fiddled with his hands in his lap and looked over at you. the sounds of his rigid breaths thrummed in your ears. you squinted at the lines on the road.

you paused before responding to his question, “yeah! why wouldn’t i be?” your voice was filled with false happiness, and was followed by an even more awkward laugh. this did not go unnoticed by spencer.

you don’t know why you thought you could hide anything from him, but knowing this didn’t stop you from trying to.

“you just seem…off.” he hesitated before continuing. “you’ve felt off for a little while today, actually.”

you hesitated again. “it's not a huge deal, you don’t need to worry about it.” looking over at him, you moved your hand from the wheel to place it in his lap on top of his. you smiled over at him again. he knew it was fake.

the remainder of the car ride went without any speaking. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but the silence felt unwanted on your end at least. spencer’s voice was the only thing keeping you from floating away from the moment.

you were mindlessly driving for the rest of the way home. the world was fuzzy and hazy. muscle memory kicked in and you got home safely despite not being aware of your surroundings or that anything had even occurred.

you were supposed to be going to spencer’s for the night, but you had ended up at your own apartment. “oh shit. sorry, i can drive us back to your place. force of habit, i guess.” you tried to blink off the haze that was cocooning you.

spencer watched you rub your eyes with the tips of your fingers and his brow furrowed. “no, it’s fine, we can stay here tonight. i love your apartment.” he moved his head so that he was looking into your downtrodden stare. he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. the scent emanating off of him was the same clean, linen scent that you had grown to love and gain comfort from.

your hand squeezed his back before you opened your door and grabbed both of your things. you lightly jogged over to his side of the car to open his door, holding out your hand to guide him out of it. once out, you locked the car and you both walked up to the entrance to the lobby.

when you were both in front of the elevator, he turned to you and sighed. “are you sure you’re okay? i don’t want to push you or anything, but you don’t have to feel bad about talking to me. that’s what i’m here for, you know?” the door opened, you copied his sigh.

pushing the button for your floor, you adjusted your hold on your’s and spencer’s things. he kept his head turned looking at you. his big doe eyes were pleading. he just wanted to help you. you had done so much for him, he just wanted an opportunity to return the favor.

he inched his pinky on his right hand over to your left hand. he laced your two pinkies together. your breathing halted before you unlaced your fingers to wipe a solitary tear from your cheek. you took your hand and reunited it with spencer’s, this time you interlocking your hands completely. his pleading seemed to get even more desperate, if possible.

“i just-” you cut yourself off and inhaled deeply. you felt the thin lines of scar tissue underneath your clothes burn. you desperately wanted to itch at them. “my dad called me on my lunch break today.” you stared off into the distance and clicked your fingernails against each other.

it seemed as if both of you stopped breathing for a moment. spencer was about to say something, then the elevator dinged. the walk to your apartment door made room for the silence to temporarily return. the floor creaked as you both approached your apartment.

the click of the your front door shutting prompted spencer to pull you in to a emphatically tight hug. it was the type of hug that filled your soul with warmth and quenched your thirst for closeness. you attempted to choke back your sobs, but when he held you tighter you broke.

you didn’t hug him back from the start, but quickly you dropped the jacket and bags that you had been holding and held him back with an equally powerful squeeze. your emotions took hold and coursed through you wholly.

“go ahead. you can cry, i don’t mind.” you pressed your cheek against his chest and sobbed. the wetness of your tears dampened his shirt. he placed one hand on the back of your head and held it close to the side of his neck. it was a precise movement, but it was not forceful in any way.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“what he said isn’t important. it just made me feel shitty. I can’t think about him without remembering everything- without feeling everything that he did.” you picked at the folds of fabric on the back of spencer’s shirt. the way that he was rubbing circles into your back provided grounding so that you didn’ float away again like you did in the car.

he made his breathing more pronounced and you understood what he was communicating. it wasn’t overly dramatic or mocking at all. your breathing began to match his. he pulled away and looked at you. “do you want me to distract you?”

“if it’s okay, i think i want to talk it out a little bit.” he offered a soft smile, one that you did not have the energy to return. he removed one arm from you back to reach behind him and take off his shoes. you pulled away from him completely and took off your shoes and your sweater you were wearing over your button down.

he motioned towards the couch. you sat next to him on it, and he grabbed your legs and swung them over his lap. you scooted closer to him so that you could lean on him but still look at his face. to an onlooker, this position might have looked awkward and maybe even a little strained and strange. you and spencer often found yourselves sitting like this. it provided everything necessary: a closeness that wasn’t smothering but gave the comfort that you two loved.

he took his left arm rested it around your waist while his right hand sat on your knee. “i know that he’s just trying to be a dad, but he isn’t my dad. he never was; he lost that privilege. he always finds a way to make me feel bad about something, or say something fucked up.” you paused.

“i know you don’t want me to say that i’m sorry, but i am. i’m sorry that you aren’t able to have that relationship with him that i know you once craved.” he took a breath, thinking about what to say. “i do think, however, that it is fantastic that you’re dating me. one, because i love knowing you and knowing that you feel the same way; seeing as you’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly well spoken. two, because i have felt similar things in the past. i don’t know many people that come from broken families and have inoperable paternal relationships.” he tapped his nose on yours. when you looked at him, he gave you a small, wistful smile.

“how do you do it?” you asked him. he hummed in response. “how do you not let him control your life? i mean, how does he not affect you?” he rubbed your knee. you could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“he does,” he said matter-of-factly. “well, i mean, the things that he did and said are instilled into who i am and have permanently impacted how i react and perceive things.” he took a deep breath, he was staring at the footrest at his feet. he looked back up at you. “i’m not perfect. some days are better than others. but, in the end we’re just children longing for the affection we were never given.”

the silence that surrounded you both as you thought of a way to respond was different than the one that held you both in the car. it was a silence that you were familiar with, it was saturated with the trust that you felt for him.

you laid your head down on his shoulder. the fabric of his button-down was stiff, but it was soft (once you had complained that spencer needed to invest in a better clothing softener. he abided).

spencer and his aura imbued your senses. he smelled and felt of comfort. you were acutely aware of how he gently and faintly rubbed his cheek against the top of your head.

“even though i can’t get back the childhood he took from me, i don’t ever stop wanting it.” your voice shook minutely. “i don’t have any faith that my father is a good person, or that he will ever change to become one. i don’t think i’ve ever looked at him and not seen the horrible ways he changed me. but i don’t ever stop wanting him to be better. he won’t be, and i know that to be a fact. but i know that he once had the potential to be something great, and i guess that gives me the faint underlying of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll do something to make up for what he did to me.”

spencer kissed the top of your head. you swore that you felt him crying but did nothing to question him on it. there was no need for him to respond that time; you just listened to his heartbeat. you payed attention to your breathing and tried to steady it.

after a few minutes, he said something. “i love you, and i’m sorry.” the simplicity filled the void in you, even though you knew that it was nonpermanent. you would eventually long for his comfort and repeat this dance again and again.

your voice was almost reduced to a whisper. “i’m sorry that sometimes i’m a mess-” he tried to cut you off but you spoke over him. “i’m sorry that i can’t ask for help when i need it- but i won’t stop needing you. i love you. please don’t leave me. i have no clue what i would do or who i would be if you weren’t with me.”

“i was trying to say that you aren’t a mess,” you could hear the watery smile in his tone, “you aren’t a mess. and i’m not going to leave. i could never do that to you. i am going to stay as long as you’ll have me stay. okay? as long as you’ll have me, i’ll be here. with you.”

and so, you sat like that. and for a moment, while spencer held you, you existed as one. the line blurred between you. you were two broken children finding solace in each other.

[artbyblastweave]

herofy the green goblin

Answering this separately from the person who requested Norman Osborn....

Norman is his usual self- cold, calculating, ruthless, abusive, and a titan of industry- but the Goblin Persona, with whom he crucially shares no memories, is a fun-loving showman in the vein of The Creeper. His debut appearance in Amazing Spider-Man 14 consisted of him approaching Spider-Man on friendly terms with an offer to shoot a movie together- which turns out to be a trick to lure him into an ambush where the other supervillains Spidey is meant to fight are played by the real guys. Then the Hulk shows up. But in this hypothetical, the movie deal is genuine. So are the supervillains- why hire actors when you can get the real thing?- and then The Hulk still shows up. It's still a bad time! But it was never a plan to pre-emptively kill a superhero as a prelude to building a criminal empire. He just thought it'd be fun.

And you go on for a while like that- the Goblin's not trying to get anybody killed, he's just stirring the pot in fun and interesting ways. He helps Spider-Man out and then switches sides mid battle like Peter Pan. Things always have a way of panning out that it's more trouble than it's worth to chase after him and things are slightly better for his having shown up than they would be otherwise. What's a little mob war between friends?

Working off residual memories from when he's in his Norman persona, he'll often hit Oscorp's corrupt enterprises and terrorize corrupt city officials and industrialists associated with Oscorp, creating the false impression that he's a disgruntled ex-employee when what's closer to true is that he's Norman's deeply buried conscience acting up. He's also playing a lot of fun cat and mouse keeping his equipment, hideouts and plans safe from Osborne, who's smart enough to notice that the goblin only appears when he's lost time, and only after he first started dicking around with that serum- he's stopped taking it, but the goblin's smart enough to make more and take it when he's got control of the body. He's also pointedly criminal enough as The Goblin (albeit in a palatable PR friendly way) that Norman has some incentive to pour some resources into covering his alter ego's tracks, much as he might like him squashed for good.