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littlegodzilla · 2 years

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Hii!!

Here I come with an other chapter about Russell.

Thank you: @green-eyedladywrites @minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69 for all the support!! Love you!

Hope you like it!!

Enjoy!!

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Protect You.

Russell Welch x Reader.

Mini serie.

Chapter 2: Kick.

Warnings: Violence. Bad language. Abuses. Non-Con. Awkward situations.

Words: 5000

Summary: Russell is adjusting to his new life and his neighbors, discovering things he didn't expect.

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Chapter 2: Kick.

💔⚔💔

You stayed away from your neighbor after your last conversation, he was right, he didn't need your charity, nor was he a dog that was going to eat the leftovers, he was a grown man you had nothing to do with. Your duty was to your home, your job and your husband, so you focused on that.

When Matt wasn't home, when you woke up you would look in the bathroom, hidden in a drawer, for a small vanity case where you kept your birth control pills, when you felt the little drug go down your throat you felt your body calm down and you went into the shower to start your day. After breakfast, you would open the windows wide, let the air freshen up, spend most of the early morning hours cleaning up and down, making sure everything took on a different color. You put away the toys scattered all over the living room in their trunk and prepared your lunch before going to work.

While you were doing that, you'd go out to the yard to take out the dry clothes and put a fresh load on the line that hung. Many mornings, Russell would be on his porch, smoking a cigarette, looking at his phone or working in the yard, pulling weeds, tidying the soil to plant new grass, sometimes he would be with his brother Gabe, who would greet you and come over the fence to talk to you, you would respond politely, but never get too close.

When Matt was home, you would wake up before him, make him breakfast and when he came down to the kitchen, you would hide in the bathroom to take your pill. Those days you didn't open the windows much, you didn't clean the house, you only cleaned the dust a little bit and prepared the food, you went to work with him, he took you and he picked you up.

And the days went by one after the other.

"Have you tried watering the seeds?" Gabe speaks, looking at his brother's dry garden.

"I told you it works with sprinklers."

"Maybe you're drowning them." He continues. "Because this is pitiful..."

"S-Sometimes you need to plow first to oxygenate the soil." You dare to say, the two brothers look at you.

"Look, even she knows you screwed up." Jokes the younger Welch.

"I treated the soil, I put in the seeds and it's all watered, it's not my fault." He defends himself again.

"Maybe it just needs a little more time." You shrug and close the bag and then head home. "Bye, guys."

"Bye... okay, can you explain what's going on?" he looks at his brother and he grunts walking into his house as well.

"What are you talking about?"

"About your neighbor." Gabe says your name and Russell shakes his shoulders.

"Nothing, I don't know what you mean."

"She sounds like she's afraid of you, more than usual, I mean."

Russell sighs with weariness looking at his brother, he knows that since you went to his house offering him food you haven't had many words again, to say hardly any, you keep your distance, you don't overlap much and he has to admit he feels a little guilty about how he spoke to you that day, but he hasn't found a good excuse to talk to you again.

"I didn't do anything to her, I think she's just acting strangely herself, don't you think?"

"You mean because of Matt?"

"I'm saying it about the sandbox and the swings, have you ever heard any kids in that house?"

"Maybe they have him on chores..."

"Sure..."

🛡💔🛡

It's been a month since Russell has moved into his new house, a month since his work equipment arrived and he learned to get a hold of it. Monica has been back and forth to his house several times to help him with his doubts, but now he can do it on his own. He likes his co-worker's company, but Gabe keeps making jokes about it and Russell has no such interest in her, even though he's sure she already has someone in her life.

He turns on the program letting it keep updating, he needs a cup of coffee when he hears a loud bang and a scream come from his neighbors house. He sets the cup down on the table and rushes out the next door, bangs loudly and licks his lips.

"Hey! Is everything okay over there?" he yells and bangs on the door again. "Hey!"

After a few moments that seem eternal to Russell, you open the door, your hair is disheveled and your eyes are bloodshot, watery, the ex-cop feels his heart racing, he even finds it hard to breathe, his eyes desperately searching for Matt's presence or whatever may have happened to you.

"Russell?" You look at him confused.

"W-what happened?" he asks looking at you. "I heard a thump and a scream..."

"I'm sorry, I just..." An embarrassed chuckle escapes you. "I was moving some things around and when I wanted to realize I had a spider in my hand and... maybe I got too scared..." You say totally embarrassed and he looks at you in disbelief.

"A spider?" He looks at you doubtfully and you can't help a smile pulling you aside so that he enters with you in your house.

In the living room you find a broken glass vase with some blood on it and a huge spider resting on the remains of it. Russell feels he breathes again with relief, he looks at you and you smile apologetically, using some tissues to wipe the blood off your hand.

"Be careful, you might have some glass..." He says taking your hand carefully.

"I'm fine, take it easy, I just need that thing out of my house." You smile again, for the first time, Russell smiles with you, letting go of your hand.

"I'll take care of it, if you want, but don't yell like that again." He asks you, you nod and let the ex-cop get rid of the spider by throwing it into the backyard.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you..." You look sideways at him, relieved that your phobia is mollified a bit. "Would you like some coffee?"

"I don't want to bother you, I guess you'll have to go to work or... go get the kid." He says looking around, toys all over the floor.

"No, no, I have the day off today and... I-I don't have kids..." You whisper, lowering your gaze. "That's... just... Matt wants to, but we don't..."

"Gee, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You apologize looking around and see the cameras in the room. "Stay Out? Do you guys work with that company?"

"Oh, the cameras? Matt wanted to install them, this neighborhood is pretty quiet, but...but you never know." You shrug, but don't dare look at him.

Russell frowns as he notices your gesture, there's something else about those security cameras that you don't feel comfortable talking to, he clears his throat and nods.

"Can I help you with the coffee?" he offers.

"Oh, no need, sit down, it'll be ready in a moment." You assure him and Russell sits down on your couch.

🛡🛡

"Russell?" He hears Monica's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hi, partner, sorry for getting a late start."

"Sorry doesn't cut it for me, Russ, it may be a small business, but you have to take it seriously."

"And I do take it seriously, it's just that I went to my neighbor's house for coffee."

"Oh, a neighbor... And is she hot?" She asks and Russell pulls his cell phone away from his ear for a moment, frowning as if he hadn't heard right.

"I guess... she's married..."

"You bitch! I didn't know you were the type."

"I'm not... What the hell are you thinking? No!" He snorts and rubs his forehead. "Listen to me, they're corporate clients, they're contracted for a basic pack with two cameras in their living room."

"Okay, that's not... Is there something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to know if they are still with the company or her husband uses them to... keep an eye on her..."

"Okay, that sounded really... twisted."

"I know, but I just want to make sure." He bites his thumbnail several times with a nervous twitch.

Monica mutters under her breath and starts to investigate, Russell doesn't have the layout of the clients' numbers, he can only get into their chambers if they set off the alarm, Monica is their superior and has other privileges.

"Okay, yes they are still our clients." He warns her after a few minutes. "There are two cameras connected, from a few months ago, but they are still in operation.

"Perfect, thanks Monica."

"Why do you think her husband would have her scared of the cameras?"

"I don't know...I guess it's cop stuff, sorry." He apologizes and she smiles on the other end of the phone.

"I'm glad to have you on our team, Russell, I'm sure our clients will be safe with you."

Russell smiles feeling warmth run through his body, it's a nice feeling, something he had long lost working on the police force. He sighs saying goodbye to Monica and continues with his work.

🛡💔🛡

You come home from shopping, you parked the car in the driveway next to the small garden, and grab the bags from the back.

"Can I help you with that?" Russell peeks over his side of the fence.

"Hi, I...no need, I think I can." You smile politely, but your neighbor rounds the yard and comes into your house helping you with the heavier bags. "Thank you..."

"I think I owe you an apology..." He gives you a sidelong glance. "For that day, when I came to the neighborhood..."

"No, no, I shouldn't have been so pushy, you have nothing to apologize for." You assure him and smile taking the last bag he enters the kitchen. "Thank you." You repeat.

"Still; I'm sorry, if you ever need anything when Matt's not home..." He shrugs.

"I'll keep that in mind, I always have some chores I can't do and Matt doesn't like them either" You joke and Russell laughs low. You look at him curiously, he has a nice voice when he laughs.

"I can help you with the spiders."

"That would be wonderful."

You can't explain exactly what happens at that very moment, but there's something that changes between you. A strange complicity. You've never felt this way with anyone. It's nice to be able to talk and deal with someone different from your co-workers or your own husband, you feel your little barriers relax and allow you to trust him again. You were very direct that first day and have since kept your distance, not only because Russell was decisive about it, but because you didn't want to upset Matt in the process, but this feels good. A new friend.

Your stomach twists with a pleasant shudder, you'd forgotten that kind of reaction some time ago. Nevertheless your body reacts by shrinking unconsciously when Russell rests his hand on your arm, he quickly pulls away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, you suddenly seemed to be somewhere else."

"It's... I was in my mind, yes." You laugh and look down feeling embarrassed by your own reaction. "I have to get the food ready...Matt's coming over this afternoon and..."

"Sure, I have to get back to work...anything you need..." She scratches the back of her neck and points to her house. "Just give me a shout."

"Of course."

You say goodbye and you go back inside the house, closing the garden gate. Your heart is racing, but you can't say exactly why, you feel bad for 'kicking' Russell out of your house with that vague excuse, but you didn't want him to think his presence made you uncomfortable or bothered you when he touched you. Matt can be a very loving and tremendously affectionate man with you when he's in a good mood, but lately his hands have only hurt you and the sudden contact scares you.

Putting that out of your mind, you go back to focusing on your own tasks, you have to review some files from your work that you haven't had time to finish, prepare the food as you had told your neighbor and wait for Matt to come home. While you prepare everything, you take things out of the shopping bags, your hands grab a small box and shake, you swallow saliva and go to the bathroom.

You lock yourself in there, take the pregnancy test out of its box and sit on the toilet. You only need to wait a few minutes, but it always makes you nervous. Your heart stops and your breath hitches before you sigh and close your eyes in relief.

"Thank God."

It's negative.

🛡🛡

"Shit, shit!" growls Russell hurrying back to his table in the living room. His hands move quickly over his head as he ties a small bun, pushing his hair out of his face.

It's the alert for one of the houses he has associated with his program. It's all numbers to him, no customer reference until he accepts the alert and turns on the alarm to report it to the police. He sits down to wait, his leg twitching nervously. He has to wait 30 seconds as Monica taught him.

30 seconds.

The alert is still pulsing on his monitor, so he can't wait any longer, he enters the admission codes and enters the camera of the house that needs help.

"Holy shit!" a gasp of surprise escapes him.

It's definitely a false alarm and worst of all, it's his neighbors; he finds you leaning against the wall just below the camera, while Matt is....

"You like it, don't you?" He hears the man's mechanical voice through the headphones Russell is wearing.

"Matt, please..."

"No, no, that's enough." He removes the headset and disconnects the connection.

His hands are shaking on the computer keyboard, his whole body is in tension, in his ears he can still hear your cracking voice and a cramp runs through him right up to....

"I need a fucking shower." He growls jumping up almost running to his bathroom.

Despite being under the stream of cold water, he still feels his skin burning. He can't understand how the alert could have been triggered. Normally those cameras have a remote control, triggered by the slamming of some door or window when the alarm is on, but the couple was at home, there was no threat, in fact, it was clear you were having a good time.

Russell shakes his head again, in his mind the memory of your body, the skin on your bare back, the little bite marks and bruises....

"What?" he says to himself with a frown. "Bruises?"

His cop instincts kick in again, just like the first time he saw Matt, that first day he showed up ready to mark territory. A bear. Russell didn't have much affection for him, but he let his guard down when you started interacting with him, didn't make a big deal out of it, a lot of men are dominant and it doesn't make them abusive. Maybe it's all a misunderstanding, maybe it's just your way of having fun, it won't be the first or the last, even Russell knows he's a little possessive sometimes. He bites his goatee hair several times before stepping out of the shower when his body has calmed down. At least a little.

His cell phone rings then and he sees his coworker's name on the screen.

"Hi, Monica." He greets looking for clothes in his room, putting on a comfortable jeans.

"Hi, Russ, I picked up an alert in your program, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it was a false alarm." He shrugs, trying to forget about it.

"Well, have you contacted the client to let them know?"

"No, they... they were..." God how hard it is to say that out loud.

"Oh... that couple again." He hears her sigh tiredly and frowns again.

"Again?"

"Yes, a young married couple, sometimes they set off the alarm 'unintentionally' we've brought it to their attention before. It hasn't happened in a while. I'll take care of it."

"No, no, I'll do it, it's my sector." He slows her down, he doesn't want her to go over there and find out it's about you and Matt.

"Okay, but if it happens again, let me know."

"Are you spying on me?" He jokes and hears her laugh before he says goodbye and hangs up.

Nervously he walks back to the living room to sit in front of the monitor once again, his hands pressed against his mouth, checking to make sure everything is in order. It's not the first time it's happened, Monica has told him, which means it's deliberate, it's something they hope will be seen, draw attention to themselves somehow. That makes him think Matt has set off the alarm with the remote control for emergency assistance, something older people often do when they have a fall or need help of some kind.

It's twisted even for him.

However, his eyes shoot to the screen again when a new alert pops up in red in front of him. It's the same number. It's your house. This time he doesn't wait the 30 seconds, accesses the image and again, you're there.

"Look, it's come back on..." Listen he says, Matt knows when the device is connected.

"Matt, stop..."

"Be nice and smile at the camera." He holds your hair and forces you to look up.

Russell ends the connection when he sees the tears run down your cheeks. He stands up again and grabs his keys to run off to the house next door, but stops halfway. He can't just walk into your house, he can't go crazy, otherwise you'll know he was the one on the other side, Matt probably won't care, but for you it will be different. He stops and takes a deep breath calming the anger boiling in his veins. Walking with long strides he reaches your house and knocks on the door with his knuckles, perhaps stronger than necessary, but he doesn't care.

He waits. He knows you're there, fuck he just saw you through the camera, he runs a hand over the back of his neck and nervously moves his body from side to side, in a gentle sway.

"Open the door, piece of shit..." He whispers low. He lifts his head when he hears footsteps on the other side and knocks on the door again.

"Hi, neighbor!" smiles Matt pulling his pants on tightly. "What can I help you with?" Russell feels his fists clench tightly, out of the corner of his eye he can see you move inside looking for where you can hide and takes another deep breath.

"Hey, man, I need a hand with the shed I've got in the garden... Did I catch you busy?"

"No, I'm done." He smiles. "Come on, what's your problem?"

Matt comes out of the house, Russell steps aside and looks inside, he knows you're not there anymore, that you've taken the opportunity to escape, he wishes he could go in and make sure you're okay, but he gets Matt out of there, which is also a relief to you, if only for a little while.

💔🛡💔

Your body aches from top to bottom as if a truck had run over it. You settle back in your chair at work feeling like you can't take it anymore, luckily it's not long to go home.

"What a face." Your coworker jokes.

"Yeah, I just... didn't get much sleep today." You excuse yourself, looking away from your computer.

"Matt's keeping you well entertained huh?" she insists and your laugh is nervous and uncomfortable, but you nod your head.

"Yeah, that's right..."

Matt wasn't very nice the night before, that's true, after your neighbor's visit, you were able to get rid of him for a few hours, but you didn't get a chance for the night. He's been doing the same thing for days. You feel your hips aching, your legs stiff and tense, plus your head hurts, but you don't want to go into details.

You don't like your coworkers talking about such things, but that's not the worst part, it's easy for you to avoid them with quick answers and fake laughter. The worst part is your neighbor, Russell. He showed up at your house the other day while you and your husband were having sex. It was embarrassing for you because you think he saw you, or heard you, or something as he appeared out of nowhere, asking Matt something stupid about his shed. You're thankful he did as you were able to escape his hands and be quiet for several hours, but that meant you were now embarrassed to talk to him or look at him, you run to your front door to avoid any contact with him.

That doesn't mean he doesn't try, though.

"Hi..." Russell greets as you stop the car and get out.

"H-hello..." You look sideways at him.

"Are you okay?" he insists, biting his lip lightly. "Th-these days you've been busy..."

"Yeah, I... I... I've got a lot of work a-and I haven't had time to stop, s-sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize." He asks you shaking his head. "I know I was a dick too, but... I thought you were avoiding me."

"No! I... I just... I..." You lower your head in embarrassment because he's completely figured you out.

"You were..." He understands and sighs closing his eyes for a second. "Is that my fault?" he says touching his neck, but looking at you, you cover the area with your hair nervously.

"No, no, it's just that Matt is sometimes a little..."

"Intense, yes, I've noticed..." He rubbs his forehead and swing behind the fence. "Hey, if there's a problem, if you need to talk..."

"I'm fine." You cut him off with a frown, annoyed. "Stay out of what you don't understand." You growl.

"I didn't mean to..." He tries to apologize, but you rush inside, leaving him with his words in his mouth. "Fuck..."

🛡🛡

Russell sits in his seat with a defeated look on his face, shoulders slumped and head bowed. Gabe looks at him curiously, trying to guess what's wrong with him.

"What's with the doldrums?"

"That I've been meddling where I'm not wanted..."

"Okay... if you'd give me more clues..." Gabe tries to joke earning a lethal glare from his brother.

"I think Matt beats his wife..." He finally confesses and his brother tenses up. "Or at least forces her to do things she doesn't want..."

"And why haven't you reported it?"

"Because I have no proof..." He does, but that would imply having intruded on a couple's privacy without their permission and that's not legal either. "Besides, I don't think she wants to..."

"Yeah, I hear you... So what do you plan to do?" Gabe insists and Russell gives him a sidelong glance.

He tells him about the cameras, about what he does in front of them with you, it's not an oversight or an accident, he does it on purpose. He tells him about how different you are when he's home or not, how he tried to help you but you were quick to refuse.

"And you want to spy on them...what do you hope to accomplish with that, catch him beating him up or something?"

"I wouldn't want that to happen, but maybe some inappropriate behavior with her..."

"That's funny..." Gabe suddenly comments and Russell looks at him blankly. "A month ago you acted like a dick to her and now you want to be her guardian angel?"

"No one deserves to live like that..."

"What are you going to do with your boss? If she finds out you're doing this, you could get fired..."

"I need the code to access the camera, so I need to talk to her..."

"Good luck with that, but Russell, promise me you won't do anything stupid."

💔⚔💔

You open the garden door with difficulty, luckily it is connected to the kitchen so you leave the shopping bags on the table and go to get more things. Today you arrive later than usual, your work has become a little complicated, it's the end of the month, you have to have all the books and accounts sorted out so nothing gets lost and there is quite a lot of work to do and few colleagues due to some being on vacation, you sent a message to Matt letting him know that you would be late but that you would stop by first to buy for dinner. You just hope it's not too late.

"Hi love, sorry for coming in at this hour." You say raising your voice a little, searching him with your eyes. "I'll get dinner ready now."

You go back to the kitchen, without changing your clothes, you don't want to make him wait any longer, you know he has to get up early tomorrow, he has a long trip that will keep him away from home for a couple of days. A smile forms on your mouth at the thought and you try to disguise it.

"We had hustle and bustle at the office today." You keep saying looking for your cooking tools. "A lot of paperwork and some of the coworkers are new, it's been a mess." You laugh softly.

"You went to work dressed like that?" You hear Matt's voice and raise your head.

"Dressed like that...?" You look at him confused and look down at yourself.

"Don't play stupid with me..."

You don't, or at least you don't pretend to, it's just a knee length tube skirt and a white blouse, you've left your blazer on the back seat of the car, you like to be dressed up for work, it's not the first time you've worn that outfit, other times Matt has been okay with that skirt, you bought it for him, and now he looks completely disgusted.

"Is this how you work, hinting at your coworkers?" he keeps moving towards you, slowly.

"Of course not, Matt, don't talk nonsense, I don't hit on anyone..." Suddenly you're pinned against the kitchen counter. "Matt, please..."

"You're such a bitch..." He spits angrily, his breath reeking of alcohol and your body jerks in fear. "Why haven't you given me a child yet? I fuck you every day, every night and you still haven't given me a son..." His hand tightens on your neck.

"S-sorry, Matt, maybe not..." But you don't finish the sentence, his hand closes tighter on your throat.

"No, what, are you a barren whore?" he roars.

"M-Matt, you're choking me..." You whimper trying to let go, to no avail. "Matt..."

But he likes to see you like this, scared, eyes full of tears, begging for your life. His grip doesn't go away, you stir trying to breathe, your hands grope around you and you grab a frying pan. You don't think long, you just hit him over the head with all your might. Matt finally lets you go, coughing comes over you as your lungs try to catch all the lost air, but you don't have much time to react.

You run, fleeing up the stairs, wanting to hide in your room, lock the latch and wait until the next day when he's gone so you can go out again. But you don't get far, before your hands can open the door, he pushes you out and you fall face first to the floor, a kick in the stomach nipping the air in the bud. You feel him climb on top of you, ripping your skirt and stockings.

"I'm going to teach you respect, slut." He says and you hear the zipper pull down. "I am your husband and you are going to learn to obey."

Tears roll down your cheeks uncontrollably, as your skin reddens with the abrasive rubbing against the carpeted floor, but you grit your teeth hard, willing yourself not to scream.

⚔💔🛡

To be continued...

Hope you liked it!!

See you in the next chapters!

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #mine #mini series #russell welch #russell welch x femreader #russell welch x reader #russell x reader #russell #triple 9 movie #triple 9 #triple 9 Russell Welch #hurt/comfort #fluff

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real-fanta-sea · 3 years

Note

Hello!!💚😊 do you still write kiss requests?? For Trevor/Mike ship and can I request something for 'bury the hatchet' mission with 11 or 57 number? I really love to see how Trevor saves Michael so😍😱

Thank you!💗

Hi sweetie! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's finally here! Find it under "keep reading". If you prefer AO3, click here to read the fic. tw mentions of violence, kissing, kinky old men

"Get the boyfriend!"

"The WHAT?" Michael huffed out, along with a small puff of fog, as he crouched behind a thumb stone that felt too small to shield him. Of all things, why would they think they were dating? Like, that were the signs? Can't two guys share a trailer, a bed, a shower, a coffee mug, cigarettes, whiskey bottles and take-out receipts without arising suspicion? Can't two consenting adults watch each other read a porn magazine while relieving stress? Is it a sign of marital status to carry someone over a threshold while high on... whatever was Trevor high on? Michael cringed inwardly as a bullet grazed the top of the stone and made the falling snowflakes find refuge on the back of his neck. There was no time to mull that over. The crunch of footsteps and angry commands closed in, and he had to act fast.

He did the math frantically. His pistol still had 16 bullets ready to be planted into the brains of whoever he aimed at. There was another full magazine in his jacket pocket. Good. Michael peered above the top of the stone, now chipped into a monstrous row of teeth. The silence has been ruptured by the sound of breaks. Judging by the urgent stomping, there were far more than 33 men to bury that night. Michael ducked and ran towards a statue of an angel reclining over another piece of stone, big enough to hide him under its sorrowful wings. Finally able to stretch out, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He remembered the last time he had to fight off so many people and cursed when he shot a look back towards Brad's grave. At that time, there was no blanket and a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. At that time, dance macabre was all too real for comfort. But it was not a time to die; he convinced himself. Not in the freezy shithole called North Yankton. Not without a fight.

Just when he peered over the side of the sculpture, the world around him slowed down into a strange state of blue trance. He shot four men in a matter of seconds, retreated to his cover, and resurfaced again behind a different piece of stone. All he could feel was a stinging sensation on his face as he collapsed with snowflakes, a soft crunch of virgin snow below his feet mixed with the recoil of the gun in his hand, going off in time with the rhythm of his heart. He wouldn't have minded if the state of focus and tranquillity remained his primary state of being. To be faster than others, not feeling the bullets licking skin and flesh off of his body, killing without remorse - he missed such balance in his retired life.

Not many voices filled the graveyard when Michael finally threw his pistol away and snatched a gun from a random unlucky henchman whose blood was rapidly cooling on the ground. The relative silence unnerved him. The math didn't add up, and even when he cracked his neck again to relieve some of the pressure, the popping sound didn't fill the space enough to be comfortable again. Only when he ascended from the aisle, ducking, eyes darting all over the dark place, he noticed how fast he was breathing and that his hands were shaking.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, that one extra burger, coke and pizza every now and then, when he couldn't sleep, did hurt after all. Maybe Mandy was right to nag at him for smoking too. Before he could make an oath to himself to start exercising once he got away from the situation. Before he could even turn around in awe, the bushes behind his back rustled and gave birth to a furious Chinese man. The newborn didn't spare a second to hit the back of Michael's head with something Mike later identified as the butt of his gun and knocked the dumbfounded Michael unconscious.

It didn't take long for Michael to wake up, but the world was swirling around him into a smudged black-eye blue mush, and it reeked of puke. There was a horrible echo of voices nagging in his throbbing head, and it took a lot of him to recognize two twitching shadows dragging him through the muddy snow. For a split second, he felt weightless as the shadows threw him inside a gaping black space and the thunder of the van door being shut made him shriek in pain.

For what felt like an eternity, his existence was reduced to watching a streak of orange light running towards his chest and vanishing before it reached his head. Michael scrutinized the small cut out in the wall that divided his dark cell and the cockpit of the van and marvelled at the sounds emerging with every blink of the orange light. The slight rocking of the vehicle only served to make him more nauseated in between his scattered thoughts. Why haven't they killed him was among the first coherent questions his brain was capable of producing. Why would they want him alive? The light blinked away rapidly and brought about the noise of radio static and two voices fighting over what frequency to tune in. Get the boyfriend. Why was the question coming back then?

Michael groaned as the deafening sound of Channel X pinned him to the ground again. Boyfriend. He recognized the music. He remembered. They thought Trevor would pay whatever price they demanded in exchange for his safety. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he didn't try to stop it for a change. How they could still think that after witnessing their bickering at Brad's grave, Michael wasn't entirely sure. What he knew with paralyzing certainty was that no one was coming to save him, and it was Trevor's fault. In between the blinks of light and throbbing pain, his memories ran back to the moment Brad unknowingly shielded Trevor as it often did in the past ten years and wished once again Dave either pulled the trigger a second later or aimed for Michael's head.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful when screeching breaks interrupted his daydreaming session. Judging by the high-pitched angry Chinese, they either had some very unfortunate flat tyre, or they ran into trouble. Or, which was something Michael didn't want to think about, they arrived at their lair and discussed the best way to make a chop suey from his guts. He shifted slightly, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts his mind offered him. It did him no good to think about alternate universes where all his problems were gone, and he was roasting under Los Santos sun by his pool.

The sliding door opened, and Michael was immediately hit into the face with a sluggish white light and smell of iron. Just one glance at the tiles plastered all over the walls, hooks idly clinging in the draft, and he knew exactly where they were. A shiny tray with a handsaw grinned right back at him from the centre of silhouettes of men. Oh god, he was so screwed. So fucked over. He made a mental note to kick Trevor in the balls when... IF... he sees him again. A pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him out of the car, his head bouncing off the ground when it hit ice-cold concrete. Michael shivered. Was it really all there was for him? Would the famous Michael Townley, the phantom of the north, end up minced into Flormart burgers? A curse escaped his lips when he imagined the limp, tasteless slice of pickle and an unnaturally orange slice of cheese tiredly melting on his flesh in someone's microwave. He could withstand any torture but that.

"Hey you, you are awake, aren't you?"

Michael winced inwardly and squinted his eyes against the bright light. "Oh, am I? I didn't know! Are you a doctor or something?"

There was a prompt leathern shoe planted into his face. Michael hissed upon contact, the smell of cheap shoe glue imprinting into his memory. So much for a well-meant, friendly sarcasm.

"Ok, I got it. I'll shut up."

"You better should, pig!" There were several snorts around him, obscured by the bright light. Michael's cheek throbbed. If he was a pig about to be made into bacon strips, he swore to take them with him. The guy who kicked him circled around like a shark.

"Now, tell me. Where does your boyfriend keep the drugs?"

Michael just snickered and shrugged as best as his tied arms allowed. The shadows stepped closer, towering above him. He felt another kick; this time, the shoe bit into his ribs, making him hiss.

"ANSWER!"

A pair of hands yanked him onto his knees. The floor crushed into them, a painful reminder he should have picked up yoga when his wife told him so.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The sole of the shoe pushed into the middle of his back, stretching his muscles to their capacity. Michael's forehead was pearled with sweat. He could barely breathe. Any further, and he was sure he would throw up.

"Do you think we are stupid?"

The pressure worsened. Michael gasped for air.

"We've seen him carry you over the threshold, and we know from a reliable source you share the bed with him,"

A picture of Ron shaking in the middle of a hostile office, surrounded by the same shadows, flashed through Michael's mind before he blinked it away. Another mental note was taken. Kick Ron's balls right after kicking Trevor's.

"AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAIM YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE KEEPS HIS ASSETS WHEN WE KNOW YOU SQUAT ON HIS DICK EVERY NIGHT???"

"Believe it or not," Michael gasped and tried to turn just enough to look the bastard who stepped on him in the eye, "I don't know anything. Oh, and it's not me who squats; I am more of the top kind of guy."

It occurred to Michael the Chinese guy who led the interrogation had a strange sense of symmetry because before he knew it, he had another pulsating bruise spread over the other side of his ribs. He wanted to think the remark was worth it, even though his body told him otherwise.

"Hang that fag on a hook - let's see if he remembers with more blood in his brain."

For a second, Michael panicked. There were too many hands grabbing and groping him, turning him, and he remembered how he, as a little boy watched spiders do just that with flies in their webs, both horrified and fascinated. He has always considered himself a spider in such situations. Oh, how the turntables! He now was the fly, and the spider was walking away.

"HEY, WAIT!"

The hands kept him floating in the air, and the man stopped in his path, turning around.

"Hm? What is it?"

Michael's eyes rounded, even though he desperately tried to fight the trepidation. "You are terribly wrong about this. I am not his boyfriend, just an acquaintance. I have no idea how you guys are affiliated, but whatever this is about, it all runs down to money, right?"

The man folded his arms on his chest slowly, visibly taking pride in Michael's panic, but his thin lips kept shut.

"I'll pay you if you release me. Generous money, actually. That's what you guys want, right? That's what everybody wants."

The man took a few steps closer, right under one of the beaming tube lights. Michael gulped when he saw the grin on his handsome face. It took him a surprisingly low effort to come close to Michael and grab his jaw in a vice grip.

"Have your whining ever worked on anyone?"

Michael shook his head ever so slightly. He got a shark-like grin in response.

"What we want is to know where your lover, Trevor Phillips, keeps his merchandise and take what is contractually, thus rightfully ours. Tell us, and maybe we will let you go."

His eyes were as black as Trevor's when Michael last saw them, yet there was no shadow of affection in these. The man who looked at him was by all means already dead inside. The hand slipped away from his jaw, but Michael could still feel where his new friend left purple imprints.

"I thought so. Never mind, after the night spent upside down, I hope your point of view will change. HANG HIM!"

All of a sudden, there was a roar of an engine from somewhere above. Michael tried to locate the sound, but it glided away, much to his captors' disdain. There was a cacophony of stomping and foreign words bouncing off the walls, mixing in with the cry of sliding door and hum of the engine coming back.

"HEY!"

His voice was too weak against the noise. No one noticed him twitching; no one cared he was still there.

"HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS, WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was the answer from one of the men, along with a sting of a gunstock on his eye. Michael didn't need answers anymore, though, as the barking of shots and cries of mowed down men crept through the open door. Not so silently, he cursed Trevor for dragging him right into the middle of mafia wars, something he had no desire to see up close. Leaving him in the graveyard alone with a mob? One kick in the balls. Letting them kidnap him and hang him like a piece of ham? Two kicks in the balls. Letting the mafia kill him in a shoot out? Thousands of years of haunting Trevor and another kick in the balls as soon as they both reincarnate. Gunshots from outside closed in on him.

Michael tried to break free from the ropes but only managed to swing back and forth.

"Oh FUCK, I'm going to KILL HIM! YOU'RE SO DEAD, TREVOR!"

"MICHAEL!"

At first, Michael thought he was hearing things. In his state of panic, his brain couldn't get a grip of how the hell Trevor knew where to find him, let alone come and rescue him after he almost shot him. Then he thought that some kind of vessel must have busted in his head, for the familiar voice was accompanied by an even more familiar tall outline topped by a crown of ruffled dark brown hair. He couldn't help but blink rapidly a couple of times, dumbfounded in the middle of the slaughterhouse.

"JESUS, MIKEY!!!"

There were rushed steps, a sound of a gun falling to the ground, followed by two trembling hands cupping his face. Michael closed his eyes and relied on other senses to confirm his suspicion. First, there was a smell of late-night coffees, morning cigarettes, diesel fuel and cheap soap he bought for Trevor not so long ago. Second, there were two big hands, fingers brushing around the edges of his bruises in a way they did years ago when they both were different people, but somehow they did remember how to soothe him. Third, there was a deep-set voice trembling with worry whispering his name. And finally, when Michael opened his eyes again, there were the amber eyes, glazed, terrified and hurt. There was no doubt anymore. Trevor came back for him.

"Oh god, I was so fucking afraid!"

Michael couldn't keep angry when faced with the first shy tears welling in Trevor's eyes, but his ability to speak left him as they fell down and disappeared into the blackness of Trevor's shirt. So instead, he let Trevor's hands caress him, oddly at peace with the gentle touch on his face.

"To think I almost lost you again!" Trevor bit his lip. Something about the droplet of blood blooming under his teeth left Michael breathless. "I was so angry, infuriated much, yes, but then I imagined you laying there with Brad and..."

Trevor gazed into Michael's eyes with such urgency it immediately reminded him of their first kill. The fear mixed in with the red gleam in his eyes, the sense of irreparable, coming back from the past to haunt them. Lost in thought, Michael didn't register the swift movement right in front of him and was caught by surprise by a feeling of having his lips pressed against Trevor's.

They were hot, trembling, and tasted of cigarettes and blood, a mixture Michael desperately tried to forget about. Where they first gently touched his, as if they couldn't believe he was still alive and well, they pressed harder in mere seconds, making Michael's eyes flutter shut. It was difficult for him to admit, but Trevor's lips were the only drug Michael craved for long and lonely ten years. For once, he let his nagging reason get hushed by the shy movement of Trevor's lips, and all the hatred slipped his mind momentarily.

At length, Trevor broke the kiss, and still holding onto Michael's cheeks, he gently propped his forehead against Michael's. Michael let him take a break, listening to his shallow breathing, and their thoughts were buzzing almost audibly where their skin touched.

"Oh god, to think I almost lost you..."

"It's ok, T; I'm still hanging on."

"Yeah, but what if I didn't turn around and follow that convoy? What if they killed you?"

"You could say I would hang around for a bit, and then they would kick me out."

Trevor raised his head and furrowed a bit. "What's that with you and emphasize on hanging?"

Michael raised eyebrows at him and waited till the realization would dawn on Trevor. It took three seconds for Trevor's eyes to round and his mouth to form a perfect 'o'.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I see. Wait a moment, sugar."

Michael's feelings on Trevor holding a knife were usually on the border between panic and deep fucking rooted urge to run for the hills. When Trevor approached him and swung it around his face, Michael was momentarily inclined to the second option, twitching nervously under the cold gleam of the knife. Trevor eyed him with palpable exhaustion.

"Stop wiggling goddammit, do you want to get cut?"

Michael pouted at him.

"Hey, don't give me THAT face, pork chop! It wasn't MY idea to tie you up and hook you here!"

Trevor's knife slowly cut through ropes, murmuring as it bit through thick threads. The very tip brushed against Michael's leg, leaving goosebumps in the wake of its cold touch.

"But I have to say this is kinda hot, eh?" Trevor's grin was back, the brightest light in the room. "How about we try it again when we get back home?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about, Trevor?"

Trevor leant in, still grinning, his knife gliding against Michael's waist.

"I mean, I will send Patricia shopping,"

The knife dipped lower, slipping under Michael's shirt. He gasped, inwardly cursing for giving Trevor the tiniest bit of gratification.

"then I'll take some nice silk rope,"

The dull side of the blade ran through chest hair lush between trembling peaks of his nipples.

"tie you up and make some sweet, sweet love to you, cupcake!"

Trevor's lips were so close, his breath on Michael's lips again, who was petrified with anticipation. His heart hammered against the patch of goosebumps on his chest, and if the last bit of rope didn't snap and let him slide off the hook, Michael would have leaned in himself and stole that kiss. But, instead of the sweet release, he was sent to the cold ground head first, folding like a rag doll upon impact.

Not only Michael sustained another hit on his head, swearing and kicking around, not unlike the turtle Amanda bought for the kids and that he and Jimmy used to torture by putting it on its back, laughing about the way it tried to turn over, but it was Trevor who was laughing his lungs out, folded in half. Michael tried to stab him with a menacing glare, but it didn't help in the slightest. Gathering the last shred of strength, Michael scraped to his feet and balling fists full of Trevor's jacket, he threw them both against deadly green tiles.

Trevor's laugh died out soon after the impact, but the grin remained despite Michael pinning him down. At first, Michael's intention was to beat him up, partially to let the frustration out, partially to get revenge for the stolen kiss, but he was taken aback when Trevor's hands closed over his fists and squeezed gently.

"Whatcha gonna do, Mikey?" Trevor uttered in an irresistibly husky voice that sent shivers of excitement to all the wrong places, "Beat me for saving your life?" Michael growled.

"You fucking..." but the words he wanted to say got sucked back into the vortex of emotion running free in his ribcage. No, beating wasn't what Michael's mind supplied him with when it came to what to do with Trevor. He could barely resist the vivid pictures of Trevor, hair running down his slender back, undressing in front of him, leaving marks on his neck and long scratches speaking volumes about how Michael liked to celebrate their victories. And then, on that day, Trevor was there. Older, but just as tempting, daring, enclosing Michael in the smell of both freedom and slavery with each exhale. Michael took a deep breath. He couldn't help but give in to the craving.

Trevor yelped when Michael crashed his lips with his so hard their teeth clinked together. That was the thrill he wanted to relive, and as soon as Trevor's hands rested against his lower back, pulling him closer, Michael surged deeper and dared to brush his tongue against Trevor's. The choked moan he managed to draw out fueled his fingers in their haste, letting go of fabric and instead bury themselves into Trevor's hair, pulling him closer. Trevor's skin could have combusted any second with the heat it emitted, and Michael couldn't resist yanking him closer, eager to get burned once again.

"Mikey... Jesus Christ!"

Trevor could barely breathe, so much Michael could tell by the heaving of chest caught between the wall and his own body. He was proud of the trembling in Trevor's touch, of shallow breaths and flushed cheeks right in front of him. He still got it.

"What?" Michael grinned impishly and let one of his hands slide down Trevor's back and squeeze him. Trevor yelped in surprise but didn't try to wriggle out of the embrace and even giggled when Michael let his hand rest there. Trevor leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down Michael's spine as it touched his ear.

"Let's go home, cupcake."

#trikey #gta 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic #kiss prompts

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theramseyloft · 4 years

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I revere pigeons. Their care and history is my special interest and they occupy my mind almost all the time. The knowledge that someone is deliberately hurting and neglecting ones they've stolen from caring, safer environments and people that were concerned for their wellbeing has me crying. Imagine being so empty as a person, to go so far as to injure a pigeon for imaginary internet points and attention.

I have been trying to work up the energy to write a post about this for weeks.

Christmas eve of 2018, my business page was contacted by some one looking for birds.

In January 2019, he let slip that he was a minor, and that his parents were adamantly opposed to him having birds.

Minors whose parents are not fully supportive of their choice of pet are a hard no in my screening process. He kept asking questions as if preparing to care for birds he expected me to sell or adopt to him, and every time, I would ask to speak to his legal guardian. He did everything he could, from telling me his mom would call me later, to eventually calling my personal phone in the middle of the night to try and coerce me into sneaking him birds under the cover of darkness. I got to the point where I would only answer his questions about available birds with "Have your legal guardian ask me." About this time, Palomacy's head, Elizabeth, came to me privately to warn me not to adopt to him. I know she thinks breeders will do anything for a sale, but my screening process for babies I have hatched is every bit as strict as my screening process for rescues. I told her I had no plans to. But confessed that I’d had a troubled history of using rescue as a coping mechanism for an abusive home situation when I was in college, and felt obligated to mentor him. I was also taken in by the charming 'enthusiastic teen who really wants to learn' facade that he's so artfully developed. So, when he used a different name to get into the Small Scale Rescue and House Pet/Therapy pigeon discord servers, and let slip who he was by accident, I was content to let him stay, hoping that the information we share would help him develop into a better care taker. But more and more red flags started popping up.

One pigeon’s bare neck, claimed to have been a wonky molt, but inflamed and bristling with filoplumes (The avian equivalent of whiskers;thin hair like feathers that also fall out during that heavy a molt)

The same bird claimed to have eaten playdough and thrown it up, in a photo with a cage full of green, moldy poop. (Where did the bird get playdough? Why was it allowed to get far enough to swallow it?)

The same bird claimed to have coins and chunks of carrot pulled out of his crop (things a pigeon can’t physically swallow unaided)

In every progressive photo, the feathers are thinner and more bedraggled and the bird himself was losing weight.

That pigeon mysteriously vanished, only got him to get two more, and mention nonchallantly after the fact that “Oh, puff died last week.”

His new pet pigeons, who supposedly lived in their own room in his house, got out while he was moving a couch.

He got, and promptly lost two other rescue birds from the rescue I posted about late in the summer that was shut down by her city and urgently needed homes for their birds.

When told Great Lakes Pigeon Rescue was going to be warned about adopting to him, this is what he posted on my education server:

He had his eye on a bird of mine (Frito), talking him down like he was undesirable or unadoptable, and reasoning that I’d have a hard time finding a home for him because of his bad personality.

Frito washed from therapy training due to INTENSE dislike of his harness.

That, and that he had developed a strong independent streak and prefered the company of other birds to people were the first things I told Brysen when he asked after that specific bird.

In one channel of the server, he would be talking to me about how he didn’t mind Frito just being a pretty house bird and would be ok if he never warmed up to being handled...

While, in another, he would be posting harnesses, asking if they would work for Frito, and asking other residents how to make an independent bird get used to being handled.

When I called him on it, he came into my DMs with this mess:

(The turn around in tone in the 12 hours I was too angry to respond is almost funny..)

Remember that rescue from earlier?

These are screenshots of her conversation with him (used with permission) about the birds that were lost, sent to the person in charge of Palomacy, where he was an active member on their platform at the time, to warn that he was preying on rescues to get more birds:

This conversation clearly illustrates that he was using us and Palomacy only to adapt the way he preys on rescues.

There is a reason he preys on rescues. We are hopeful for people to improve. So he expects infinite chances from us. And he expects that a correctly worded apology will erase any consequences. He preys on pigeons because there are no laws in the US concerning their welfare. Despite being domestic animals (the pigeons brought by Europeans to North America had been domesticated for thousands of years, and there were no natives of the same species or even in the Columba genus to mix back with); Pigeons are under the jurisdiction of the Department of Natural Resources, which governs wildlife, and legally classifies them as an invasive pest. The Department of Agriculture is the one that presides over domestic animals and investigates animal cruelty. They may only act for the welfare of pigeons under the specific circumstance of the pigeons in question being meat breeds bred for squab intended for human consumption via restaurants. In any other instance, killing a pigeon by any means, including torture, is legally equivalent to pest control. There are no legal consequences for it.

After I blocked and banned him, it came to light through several sources in personal contact with him that he maimed, killed, and discarded 25 birds that we know of, and he is still trying to get more.

Several people who denied him birds shared screen shots with us proving that they were also sexually harassed and threatened with sexual violence by him.

Several of the people who came to us told us that they had also tried to warn Palomacy, but their comments were immediately erased.

Brysen was allowed to continue to speak openly on their platform with no consequences, allowing him to truthfully say that he was being mentored by Palomacy to lull smaller rescues into a false sense of security and convince them to give him birds.

They had two articles on their website about what a wonderful young rescuer he was, only taken down after they tried to claim I had doxxed an innocent child, and it was pointed out to them that their public articles had his full current address, date and place of birth, and a photo of him in front of his house. I had beef enough with the organization before this that I will not go into on this post, but I am disgusted by the way Elizabeth silenced her own admins and community members from warning other rescues and individuals and tried to shut the rescue up who sent the above screen shots when she came forward about the birds he tricked her into bringing to Ga who were immediately killed. And then blamed her for their deaths. @tutu.pigeon brought me those screen shots the day after I banned him and one of my server mods took it upon themself to be a voice for his other victims by creating the Instagram @exposing_helluva_duv What ever respect I might have had for Palomacy is permanently destroyed.

You cannot call yourself a rescue if you cover for a serial abuser, actively prevent his victims from warning the rest of their community, and then blame those victims for having been taken advantage of.

The harm that that, combined with everything else I have beef with, has done so out weighs any good that I can no longer, in good conscience, attempt to put aside our differences and meet in the middle.

I’m not gonna waste the energy to start any shit, and I don’t think any one else should either.

But I’m done trying to be any degree of supportive to them.

Gonna put my energy into encouraging more small shelters so there are better options.

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shreddedleopard · 4 years

Text

Twelve-million more reasons Historia and Levi are part of the Endgame. With Pictures.

You can read the first post I made on this here:

10 reasons it would make narrative sense for Levi and Historia’s character arcs to end together.

(This is the mega-evolved version.)

Okay, I’m going to put this out there now, and before you judge me, please just read the posts. You don’t have to agree. This is just an idea. But it makes a stupid amount of sense, at least to me. So here's your fair warning (and now I'm being bold): If you don’t want to potentially be spoiled, Do Not Read On.

Here’s the Theory:

Historia Reiss will give birth to a half-Ackerman child, and together with Levi, from the ashes and ruins of the world Eren destroyed, they will welcome the dawn of a new age for humanity, where Ymir’s curse and the power of the Titans is extinct.

I know. I sound like some crazy, Rivahisu nut. Granted, I am, but I’m not mad enough to make a claim like this without a shit-ton of evidence, because it’s such a damn twist it feels like it can’t be true. But just humour me.

Here’s the theory, then we’ll look at why it makes sense and how it might have been foreshadowed. Please note: I have less clue how this will tie in to Eremika endgame, so I haven’t mentioned this as much, but obviously that will be the other very important side of this coin.

10 months ago (In Japan, full term pregnancy is counted as 10 months), at the banquet celebrating completion of the new railroad, Levi and Historia, having had 3 and a bit years to bond over their shared experiences and become close, may have gotten carried away together and shared one night of being a bit more than friends. She’s well into her 18th year at this point, just to clear that up. This resulted in Historia getting pregnant. Okay just stay with me; I know. I know. I sound crazy. But hear me out. So this pregnancy, contrary to the belief of the MPs and rest of the damn world, was the complete opposite of planned. Historia tells Levi, and Levi immediately panics. Because, to steal Kenny’s famous line, Levi thinks to himself ‘I can’t be some kid’s dad.’

Levi does what he always does best, and shuts down into business mode, telling Historia she will need to cover it up somehow. Historia does as he asks, probably reluctantly, because she really has developed very deep feelings for him during the timeskip, and finds some farm hand to take the blame, likely saying she made a silly mistake with some random and the father doesn’t want anything to do with the child, and so she needs a father for the child not to be illegitimate. Which is her worst nightmare, because of course, that’s what she was. Levi watches the exchange hidden in that famous hood, feeling very conflicted, because although he cares about her, he thinks it best if no one knows that it was him that got the Queen pregnant, and of course, he’s duty bound, with a vow to fulfil, so he has no time to be worrying about a family. (Silly Levi!)

How ironic this conversation would be if this theory were true. Remember, Historia was completely willing to eat Zeke if needed. Instead, she got pregnant, unplanned, nothing to do with any plot or selfish wishes, just the result of a spontaneous act of love by two people who’ve grown to care for one another a lot. ANYWAY.

Because we know Levi actually has a good heart, he feels immensely guilty for all of this; he's just a product of his upbringing and thinks he doesn’t know the first thing about families, so it's better for all involved if he not be. See where this is going? The old cursed history repeating? Making the same mistakes as our parents? Plus, Levi is bound by his duty. He is incredibly important to the military still, and he cannot just abandon this for any of his own selfish wishes. He’s supposed to be the one to vanquish the beast titan.

Cue ten months of Historia looking hella depressed and hopeless, and Levi being even more of an asshole than usual to everyone, and not really wanting to say too much at all, as well as making some terrible workplace decisions (lol) poor boy be distracted.

Look at his face 😭

Yes Levi. A month. Which means Historia is now due and you’re still stuck with beardy, without a solution and pretty soon no reason for the MPs not to turn the mother of your child into a Titan.

That’s what that face is. I thought he looked a bit weird first time I read these panels 🤔 He didn’t know about the wine. We see that later. Anyway, I keep getting distracted, stop. I’ll come back to this.

But fear not; Levi will have a choice to make.

So this is where it gets a bit more iffy for me, because I'm not sure how it would work, so this could be a way off, BUT. I believe it will come to light that the combination of Royal and Ackerman genes will somehow cancel out a person’s ability to turn into a titan and connection through paths, thus making them truly ‘free.’

The founding titan has the ability to change Eldian physiology, according to what Zeke learned from professor Xavier.

EDIT: Okay so here’s where I’ve had to tweak this a bit in light of there latest chapter. So we just had Zeke in PATHS. With none other than our second resident genius, and as proclaimed by Eren, the saviour of humanity: Armin. What do our boys have a conversation about? Reproduction and the importance of the small moments in life - it’s these little moments which matter, regardless of the desire or need to recreate. Interesting how both the leaf and baseball link back to what their ideas of ‘family’ became. If Historia and Levi were to be in the same scenario in PATHS, what would their items be? What truly means family to them both?

Perhaps Armin and Zeke realise what is needed to lift the curse of the titans - maybe a blueprint for genes which can cancel out the connection to PATHS and the founder? If only they had a child with a new type of Royal-Ackerman DNA which might fit the bill ...

Here’s Levi’s moment. He, with Historia, has created such a child - completely by accident, because of one of those ‘moments’ that both Armin and Zeke mention - moments that are simply just about enjoying what you have with no sense of how it might relate to anything bigger - a real rarity for both of them, considering their roles and constantly being asked to think about the good of humanity as a whole. What a beautiful irony, that in the moment they chose to be selfish and, to use freckled Ymir’s own words, really live for themselves, they set a chain reaction in motion that would ultimately save humanity.

Where does this leave Eren and Mikasa? Good question. I believe Eren will die once the curse is removed, because tragically he is the character that has been forced to choose humanity over his own personal relationships. As Isayama has said before, Eren is a victim of the story. Mikasa will be the last thing he sees, hence the original dream at the start of the manga, where he wakes up crying. Something like this. But probably a lot better. Yeah.

Out of the ashes of the old world, a new one will be built, but through Historia’s kindness and love, and Levi’s guilt and understanding of what was sacrificed in the past, society will not repeat the same mistakes. The final panel could be Jean holding his child, perhaps with Mikasa, if she ever manages to get over losing Eren. That would be vague enough so that Isayama was able to show it to us already without spoiling much. Or maybe Jean’s dead and it’s not him at all. I don’t know. 😭

Right. Okay. So now you’re going, sweet story, but uh, there’s no way Levi could be the father. He’s so much older. Isayama wouldn't write a moment of romance like that. Not with him and Historia. YOU’RE JUST CRAZY.

Well this is where it get’s interesting. LET ME SHOW YOU. It’s foreshadowed literally everywhere. Right under our noses.

There is so much symbolism.

Dedicate your heart to what? has been Levi’s question recently. What are they all fighting for? What is he fighting for? How will he give meaning to his dead comrades sacrifices? Is killing Zeke really the extent of it? Is vengeance the true meaning of their sacrifices? Or is it something a lot more hopeful?

The answer is shown to us in the opening credits. And the ending credits. Several times.

Levi says so himself - he keeps messing fulfilling the vow up - why? Why is he so worried about killing Zeke?

Eren has the same questions to consider. Which PATH is the right one to take - revenge and violence with the rumbling, or love ... with Mikasa. We are literally shown what their choices will be in two virtually identically designed panels, which I’ll show you. Tragically, Eren’s choice is taken from him. He is a victim to the story - he must chose the path that saves humanity. Levi and Eren have been bound together through the theme of choices, and taking the ones which leave you with the least regrets, throughout this entire manga.

The upcoming anime episodes literally plot out the timeline of Levi and Historia’s changing attitude to one another, and then Historia’s pregnancy, it’s just so cleverly subtle. Isayama even tells us when/ during what event her child was probably conceived by just dropping dates in from other, seemingly unrelated plot lines.

Zeke gives pointed comments to Levi constantly - every other line of his is either a different jab at Levi about Historia’s pregnancy, a veiled question, or a reminder that he’s under the pressure of a 10 month time limit to do something about him, or Historia will have to eat him once she’s given birth. We start to see Levi unravel because of this, and make mistakes over and over.

It’s in official art. It’s in the soundtrack. Its in music videos. There’s interviews from Isayama that, when read in light of these ideas, suddenly take on a whole new meaning.

Isayama even trolls us. He’s laughing in our faces, the madman. Like, gotchu 🤣 suckers. While we’re all on Reddit and Twitter like, ‘Levi’s character has become so stagnated! He’s making such poor choices or not giving anything to the plot at all. All that’s left for him now is to give up and die! Be at peace, your story is over.’ OOF. Or, ‘Historia has just been forgotten! She’s become such a pointless character. Isayama just got bored with her and sidelined her.’

I’m going to try and write stuff up in the rough categories below, but these might change. I’ll link them when I’m done, and then pin this post. I’m a bit of a rambler so heads up - this may take a while 😅

There’s also a ton of people I have to mention who have contributed to this - I didn’t spot it by myself. I’ll tag them in the finished post too.

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 1

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 2

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 3

Ackerman-Royal Bloodline and Levi’s Choice Pt. 1

Levi’s Choice Pt. 2

Suns, Moons and Songs

Akatsuki No Requiem - Right theory, Wrong guy

The Farmer and The Cattle Farming Goddess, or WHAT’S IN A NAME.

Mistakes of our parents and breaking the cycle

Memories from the future & Levi’s Guilt

Watch this space. And hold on to your pants. If I’m right, I’m getting very drunk.

#shingeki no kyojin spoilers #shingeki no kyojin manga theory #historia pregnancy #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #historia reiss #rivahisu

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it.

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands)

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!!

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky.

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up.

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another.

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia.

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future.

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting.

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately.

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything.

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing.

Steve saw it as devotion.

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased.

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset.

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew.

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service.

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won.

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.”

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt.

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes.

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately.

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion.

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage.

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place.

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts.

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved.

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time.

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again.

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom.

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him.

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time.

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour.

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway.

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve.

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him.

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact.

Bucky knew better.

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it.

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people.

Bucky was fucked.

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home.

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all.

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again.

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back.

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear.

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs.

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him.

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything.

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help. No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency.

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him.

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow.

If he did, he'd get rewarded.

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem.

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one.

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried.

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation.

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything.

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him.

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years?

Bucky didn't know anymore.

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all.

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before.

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you."

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right?

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random.

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell.

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed.

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far.

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise.

They went entirely unused.

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve.

And breakfast now, apparently.

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve.

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe.

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters.

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit.

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody.

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him.

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking.

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing.

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky.

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

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shini--chan · 4 years

Note

1p allies and axis react to that the reader gave birth to they're child. When they ask here she wants the hold the baby? , her answer is like "I don't want hold that thing!"

Alright. So, before I start off I need to give a fair warning that as to why it would even come to that point … let’s just say that it is pretty dark. Warning for implied non-con, manipulation & coercion. You’re reading this at your own risk.

Yandere Allies

America

“What do you mean you don’t want it?”, Alfred would ask, completely dumbfounded by your vindictive reaction to your very own child. Lovingly, he stared down at the bundle in his arms. The reddened face covered with wax was just too adorable to be true.

“We’re finally going to be a family; it is the most wonderful thing I can think off. And you have to react like this.”

The malice in those sky-blue eyes was clear as he took in your exhausted state.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? This is your child as well as mine and you have to go on and reject the best thing that has ever happened to you? Your lack of compassion is shocking. So, either put your big girl panties on and act like an adult or we’re going to have a serious talk!”

Let’s just say that Alfred wouldn’t take it well at all that you have such an aversion to your very own child. He would see it as grounds as to have a serious talk with you. If you’re lucky, it would be something akin to a psychotherapy section that he would do with you, only with a lot of condensation. Then, if he is in a very bad mood, it would be far more macabre.

Of course, the things he would do to you would be wrong, except in his mind where everyone of his actions would be justified. Through rejecting your child, you would have tarnished his image of you. Alfred would have thought that you had gotten used to idea of spending the rest of your days by his side. Those vile words of yours would have served to confirm the latter. And villainize you in his eyes.

You would have a lot of apologizing to do. Just keep in mind that if he would sense anything fake in your buttering up to him, the trust he would have established would crumble to ashes. And he is good at disconcerting true from false. However, if you’d hide any lies you’d have behind extreme emotions, then you could succeed.

Canada

“But, she/he is your child”, Matthew would protest. The way you’d firmly shake your head would make his heart drop to your gut.

“A child I never wanted”, you would whisper, sweat glistening on your brow and making it seem as through you were submerged in a fever dream. “Only you wanted a child, I didn’t. How can you be so blind to not see that?”, you would murmur, too lost to evade the hole you were digging yourself into.

Your captor’s lips would thin as he was reminded about the darker aspects of your relationship.

Talk about popping a balloon with a needle, there goes all that happiness and excitement, blown away by a few cruel realisations. Of course, due to your relationship not being of an overly violent nature the fall-out wouldn’t be harsh in the direct, tangible sense. Needless to say, Canada would be pissed that you just had to go on and ruin the whole show and his dreams of a saccharine future.

He’ll skilfully dismissed that you would have been coerced into bearing a child (if not by the worst way you can get pregnant) and tell everybody that would even catch wind that there was something sinister buried deep, that you were just hysterical because of all the residue hormones from the delivery and the exhaustion. That is, if he has too.

China

A fine, pencil thin eyebrow would rise as he condescendingly regarded your disarrayed constitution. Calmly, he would turn to the midwife he had order and take the new-born expertly out of their arms while stating:

“We thank you sincerely for your services. Please, leave now that I may calm my wife down.”

They would nod and quickly scurry out of the room.

Snake-yellow eyes would stare fondly at the infant weakly kicking at the blankets and thin lips stretched to an endearing smile as a tiny, waxy hand was extended up to his face. Gently, he would shift his arms so one hand was free. The baby would snatch the outstretched index finger as soon as they would have the chance, clumsily stuffing it in their mouth and sucking.

Yao wouldn’t even glance your way as he would seat himself on the edge of the mattress, however, his scolding words said with such calmness would add a crude shadow to the picturesque image:

“All your tantrums are growing increasing petty. You should restrain your emotions before you go completely out of control.”

You wanted to gap at him, at his patronizing words. But more than anything else, you wanted to cry for help. Not that any would come. You were stationed in the guest room of his estate and the midwife that had been summoned was the only other person anywhere near you.

She wouldn’t aid you, not that she could. Your “lover” had a way with words – his violence wasn’t physical; it was an intangible knife that made wounds that would never heal.

Instead, you would stammer shakily: “But you said we would give it up for adoption.”

“I said I would consider it. There is a big difference there. Besides, you shouldn’t torture yourself by denying your own nature.”

At those words you would find yourself trembling. Rage would simmer like a pool of magma in your stomach and combined with exhaustion it would make you shake – a brittle leaf in the autumn wind. Your voice would crack as you seethed: “Do you have to start with this sexist nonsense out me being a woman…”

A glare would be enough to silence you.

“It is not because you’re a woman. It is because you’re a human and humans care for their kin.”

To China, it would be barbaric for you to so callously reject your very own child, the fruit of your womb, a testament of the love you two have for each other. To him, family is infinitely precious and for you to smash that vision there would be severe consequences. Whether you would like it or not, you’re going to keep the child and you’re going to love him/her. Although, you might do all that out of your own “volition”, as in China would manipulate you to extent that you’d think those thought would be yours.

England

“Shut up!”, would be his immediate response and the waspishness of his tone would be enough to make the nurse raise their eyebrows in suspicion. However, the rage upon porcelain feature and the harshly snapped instructions of “Leave” and “Not you bloody dare tell anybody about this” would be enough to make your only gate way to freedom vanish.

Money would also help seal the deal.

The baby would be in the cradle at the foot of your bed, luckily, because the expression of malevolent fury on his face told you that he would’ve broken anything in his hands in fit of rage. It was the expression of hot passion and chilled anger that one would normally attribute to a general.

Still you summoned your courage to make your case: “I never wanted this, not any of this so not give me that look. You knew I never wanted a baby, you knew that didn’t want to…“, you would yell and choke on those last words because of the memories they’d evoke.

And that window of opportunity would be what Arthur would use to crush your case to dust:

“It is funny, really, because half of the time you don’t know what you want from life”, he would say, voice dangerous soft as he approached you, the fairy fire in his green irises making your skin itch as if there was something contagious directly underneath the first few layers.

“But that doesn’t matter anyhow because your feelings are irrelevant.”

You would open your mouth to protest but only a croak your come out.

“No matter what you say, your emotions are not accurate assessments of reality. What is reality is that you don’t know what is best for you. I do, better than anybody else and that is why you need me. Face it, you’re nothing without me.

“So, except your new role of mother. I promise, you’ll grow to love it.”

As the man himself just now stated, your wants and desires are meaningless to him in the grand scheme of things, or at least, he’ll convince you of that. If you would believe that yourself, then thing would be much easier for him. Arthur would see it as another chance to degrade your identity while putting his on a pedestal.

However, if you wouldn’t fall soon for his manipulations, then he would let you feel his anger in controlled bursts. The spite would surface over your time of recovery and he would purposefully leave you alone with the child so that you would be forced to take care of them.

France

“You will”, he’d state firmly.

Your jaw would hit the floor. Him not getting sentimental would shock you.

“It pains me to see you like this, to see you so cruel, so take those words back. What happened to my (y/n)? What happened that her morals decayed to this point? Where is her heart? Where is her compassion?”, he would sorrowfully lament, like a heart broken poet.

His touching little serenade would be enough to make the fussing baby fall silent, not to mention you.

Guilt would rise up in your gut, toxic and hot. Just what had come out of your mouth?

This would be one of the matters where he’d leave no room for his delusions, where he would even go as far as to revive all the memories of your countless grievances for the sole purpose of teaching you a lesson. It would be needed, and he would be lucid enough to recognize you as a potential threat to your own offspring.

To say the least, he would be weary of you during the next few years, least you try to get rid of the child somehow, be it through cold blooded murder or by giving them away for adoption. With the outburst you would have displayed, nothing would be off the plate in his eyes.

Russia

Violet-blue eyes would be harsh as the high north when they met yours, the warning glare enough to silence you and make something shrivel up in you. Defeated, you would press yourself back into the mattress hoping the accursed thing would swallow you whole because that would be better than all the damnation that the hardset features of your captor promised.

Therefore, it would be all the more petrifying when Russia would elect to ignore in order to turn his attention to the squirming infant in his arms, cooing lovingly and smiling.

Ivan wouldn’t take any nonsense on your part and if you hadn’t learned it at that point then you would be in double trouble. It might even descend into slaps. Although that would be a last resort, if he would feel his control slipping and resort to drastic measures in order to regain it.

He wouldn’t lose a word over your unforgivable behaviour, not the next day, not the next week, not the next year. If you would bring the topic up, then he would be quick to shut it down. However, just because he would verbalise the problem doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be any consequences for it. It would take for in the nuances of your life together – him not help you with the post-delivery recovery, often having a patronizing and degrading undertone in his voice when speaking with you, generally acting more spiteful towards you…

Those would just be a few examples. And he wouldn’t take written or spoken apologises either. Ivan wouldn’t care for lip-service, you would have to prove yourself to be a worthy and loving mother in order to get in his good books again.

#yandere allies #yandere hetalia #yandere America #yandere england #yandere china #yandere Russia #yandere canada #yandere france #yandere hetalia x reader #x reader

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jeannereames · 3 years

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Writing Advice, Part the Fifth

I’ve had several questions about aspects of writing, some directly related to historicals, some more general about writing women. So this is the fifth of a series of posts that address these questions. Because they spanned three different anonymous asks, some with several queries, I’ll address them without necessarily quoting the asks, at least in full.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Accuracy of Character Worldview (without pissing off readers)

In my second post on Writing Advice, I outlined 3 essential elements to good historical fiction when it came to world-building:

1) Understanding how people in that world thought about life, the universe, and everything.

2) Getting people, events, countries, and cultures right, barring deliberate change for narrative purposes.

3) The Niggling Details

I’m finally getting to point #1, and wish to combine it with another ask:

How can we properly write characters in historical fiction while keeping their actions and way of thinking accurate, but also keeping them likable? For example, I have a problem with authors trying to make their characters too "woke" to the point it's unrealistic to the time period they live in, unless it's well written or actually serves the plot, but I know that when I write I don't want my readers to hate my characters (or me, for that matter) for being sexist even though it would be the most expected thing for someone living in that time period.

This is one of the trickier parts of writing historical fiction. There are a couple possible ways to handle it.

But first, the author must recognize that one reader’s “too much” is another’s “not enough.” 😉 Some of this goes back to what I’ve discussed in other posts, especially Part II, regarding genre expectations. Traditional, mainstream historicals allow/expect a lot more historical detail than some genre historicals.

Returning to handling unpalatable historical attitudes, there are three (3) basic approaches:

First, you can minimize or ignore whatever is the offending opinion. This is kinda cheating, but it is an option, so I mention it. If you don’t want to deal with a protagonist tolerant of slavery, don’t give them a lot of slaves (or any slaves). Or don’t put women in your novel is you want to avoid sexist attitudes about women.

More honest, I think, is to find a way to acknowledge unpopular attitudes internally to the story via characters. There are two primary ways to do that.

One, introduce an outsider who has different views. This is probably the most common tool used by historical fiction authors. It not only allows the author to deal with unpleasant attitudes but can also be used to explain other unfamiliar aspects of the society. I’m using this approach in my current series where the two main characters come from very different cultures.

Two, somewhat trickier but what I tried in Dancing with the Lion, assign to an (historical) character an atypical perspective, and provide a reason for them to hold it. After all, attitudes change in societies because they’re challenged from within. So, it’s completely reasonable to imagine a character a bit “ahead of their time” as long as they have a reason to be, something established within the world of the novel.

For instance, in DwtL, I have Alexandros express more progressive ideas about the capabilities of women as a direct result of his mother’s (and sisters’) influence. I also have female characters who themselves challenge the roles society gives to them, including Myrtalē and Kleopatra, but even tertiary characters like Kynannē, who has fought in battle.

By contrast, at least at first, Hephaistion is rather conventional about women, adopting standard misogynistic ideas—yet he holds more progressive views of war and violence, questioning their glorification.

Thus, one can spread out among various characters views that appeal more to a modern audience without making someone act completely out-of-character for their time period.

Aside from those general approaches, NARRATIVE FRAMING affects how readers will receive antiquated and offensive attitudes in your characters.

First is the WHO. If the person expressing the antiquated view is a villain or even an antagonist, the author need worry less. Or one may decide to confront negative attitudes head-on. For instance, a slave would have much to say about slavery quite different from a slave-owner. Or one can use a character’s developmental arc to lead them to question previously held beliefs (sort of what happens to Hephaistion on several fronts in Dancing with the Lion).

What if you, the author, need to handle such views in your protagonist(s) whose likability you want to maintain, but who can hardly announce an emancipation proclamation two thousand years early? Proto-racist and ethnocentric views in a novel about ancient Greece or Rome will surprise no reader. But here, again, we as authors must remember we’re writing historical fiction, not history, and be a bit judicious in the language we choose, in both narrative and dialogue. There’s a big difference between translating or otherwise reproducing historical documents versus how we describe things in our own writing, especially fictional. Even in dialogue, it’s important to consider the audience one is writing for.

In short: Do we want to tacitly promote attitudes that may be historical but ugly, by having the characters we want readers to identify with voice those attitudes without check?

My personal answer is “No.”

This brings us back to (internal) narrative framing. So for instance, if writing a novel set in 1850 and the cowboy protagonist uses the N-word without thinking, have another character (perhaps the local preacher) respond with something like, “I thought you were a good Christian man, Joshua. Why employ such an unkind word?” Because even in the 1800s, the N-word was derogatory (whereas negro was not). Or, as in Dancing with the Lion, when Alexandros occasionally says something thoughtless about women’s experiences, the women in his life (Myrtalē, Kleopatra, or later Kampaspē) pull him up short.

Ergo, your protag has expressed an historically appropriate attitude and been called on it, within the narrative, by a character who might be expected to do so. That gives the reader a “voice” in the story. For characters the author wants the reader to like/identify with, one can have those characters learn from their mistakes, and/or express more sympathetic ideas on other occasions. So Alexandros may say stupid shit about women occasionally because he’s a Macedonian male, but then he, in turn, shows himself to be more sympathetic in scenes such as Myrtalē’s trip to look in on the injured Hephaistion. There, Hephaistion’s uncle (and even his father) are rude to Myrtalē/Olympias, but Alexandros respects her medical knowledge as equal to the (male) physician Philippos of Arkania. Thus, while Alexandros can be misogynistic at times, when compared to other men, he’s miles ahead.

That’s narrative framing.

Finally: TIMING matters as part of that framing. For characters the author wants the reader to like, withhold evidence of unappealing attitudes until you’ve established that character as a likeable person in smaller ways.

So as mentioned, Hephaistion begins the novel with fairly conventional views of women. It’s not really until tutoring Kleopatra and befriending Kampaspe that those views begin to change. But I also don’t show him expressing those conventional views until after I’ve used events to SHOW (not tell) that his fundamental nature is kind: noticing and caring how Alexandros is treated, his special concern for his horse Brephas who he hand-raised from birth, etc. Once Hephaistion has been established as a “nice person,” the reader is far more likely to excuse era-appropriate views expressed by him—especially as part of his character development arc.

Again, narrative framing is a super important tool in presenting offensive or out-of-date attitudes. Who says it, when that person says it, and how the narrative is arranged around it (e.g., framed) all contribute to how the reader perceives those views, and (in turn) the person who expresses them.

#writing advice #writing life #historical fiction #worldviews #responsible historical fiction #fiction writing #asks #writing advice part the fifth

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sadselfhelp · 4 years

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Who I Am, And Why I Created This Blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Drug Overdose, Suicide, Psychotic Breaks.

Take a walk with me, let me show you around the mind of The Sad Hatter.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of something. I'm standing on a cliff's edge and I'm either going to plummet or I'm going to fly. It's been building inside me for a long time, and I can't contain it anymore. So here it is, here's me laid bare, because I need to say this, I need to put it into words. I need to purge it all. To try and make sense of all of this shit in my brain, I think it's time I organize it. I don't know where to begin, but I guess I start at the beginning and make use of the ability to edit.

Before you read this, please be aware of the trigger warnings. And please understand that this is the most honest and open I have been, I really am stripped bare in this piece of writing. It’s not at all pretty, and am I not guiltless in parts. This may well alter whatever opinion you have of me.

I guess the beginning is birth, right? But I don't want to rehash all that trauma, so let me speed through it. Twenty-Eight years ago I was born, violently. I'm serious, I ripped my way out of the womb, and tore that thing apart. I guess I can sort of understand why my mother couldn't love me after that was my first act, collapsing her womb. So let me speedrun this part of the story. Mum didn't want me, gave me to my dad who raised me as a single parent with the help of his parents, until he met my stepmother. Shockingly, she didn't want me either, but because she couldn't get rid of me she decided to physical and psychological torture was the next best thing.

When I was eleven years old I snapped and didn't want to put up with it anymore, so I wrote a goodbye note and then snuck into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of pills. Spoiler alert, I didn't die. I did however end up in a children's home, cue more abuse, little bit of bullying and sexual assault etc.... I snapped again, but instead of turning my anger inwards, I became an absolute bastard. Ok, I still turned it inwards a bit, I had a lot of anger, and now I have a few hundred scars to prove it. But, it turns out that violence can beget violence, and I acted out in every possible way. Racked up a horrifying rap sheet, assault, vandalism, arson, and finally... GBH. I was supposed to get put in a secure unit (child prison – Scottish Edition) but I was always able to talk myself out of trouble.

See, I was this tiny little white girl with big sad eyes and a hell of a sob story, even at the bottom of the food chain I still had privilege. So instead of getting locked up, I just got sent to a different home. And here's the really messed up part, this home was better. The staff were nicer, and nobody hurt me. My behavior literally changed overnight. I went from being charged by the police on a weekly basis, to never getting so much as a pocket money sanction. I will never excuse my actions, nor condone them, but after years of guilt I finally realized that the bad things I did were in retaliation to a bad situation, and though I wasn’t acting like a good person, I’m not a bad person, just a messed up one.

I still refused to go to school though, because though I didn't yet know it at the time, I had severe social anxiety. I was smart, a little too smart to be honest, and I found myself thriving with a private tutor. When the time came to sit my exams, someone fucked up, and despite having record breaking test scores on the pre-exams, I never actually got to sit my standard grades (think SAT's – Scottish Edition). I'm still bitter about that. So by this point in the story, I'm 16, and legally an adult, too old for a children's home. I got turfed to a hostel, and the next few parts of the story are pretty fuzzy to me.

This is where my mental health really started to deteriorate. I bounced between homeless hostels and B&B's for a year or so, until I got a my first flat/apartment. By that point, I was utterly fucked in the head. I was blacking out frequently, for anywhere between a couple of minutes to three days. I would come back to myself in sometimes compromising positions, and once there was blood. A lot of blood, splashed all over the walls. Then there was the time I suddenly found myself standing in the kitchen, about to plunge a knife into my own chest.

Nobody ever did tell me what the hell that was about. Or maybe they did and I just... forgot? But because I was extremely suicidal, a doctor finally decided to do something, and the police and the paramedics came to my door to take me to the psychiatric hospital. I spent ten months there while I cycled through various anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, and was 'rehabilitated into society'. The second I was out, I made the worst decision I have ever made in my life. If I can give you one piece of advice, one lesson to take from my shitshow of a life, it's this: Don't move hundreds of miles away to be with the guy you met online while you were having a psychotic break.

I've never really thought of myself as a victim, but I guess I'm the only one who saw it that way. Ben, that was his name, Ben was a monster, and I didn't know it until it was too late. He never hit me, never lifted a hand to me, he never had to. He could put a knife in my hand and make me hurt myself for his entertainment. I had told him everything, so he knew exactly how to break me down, how to make me want to bleed. He locked me in a house and used me up. And when I had enough, and tried to break free of him, he would just tell the police I was mentally ill and they would smile sympathetically and give me back to him.

But then my dad had a breakdown. My dad, who when he found out what my stepmother was doing to me, buried his head in the sand and packed my little suitcase for me. I hadn't spoken to him in a while until he reached out from the same psychiatric ward I had not long vacated. He had cracked under the realization that I had never lied about her, and the guilt broke him apart. I could have hated him, if it had happened a few years earlier then I would have. But I had experienced enough of the world to learn a few things, like how easily it is to fuck up, and that no matter how strong you are, you aren't immune to monsters. The truth was he was as much a victim of her evil as I was. She had manipulated him, played with his head, used his insecurities against him. So I helped him through his issues, the way I wished someone had helped me. That doesn't really make me a good person, it just makes me human.

But my dad got better, and found his footing. And when he did, he realized something wasn't right with me, and I told him the truth about Ben. My dad had left me to suffer at the hands of an abuser once before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen again. He came and got me, and he took me home. He moved me in with him, gave me his bed and slept on the couch. After a couple of months, he helped me get my own place.

And that's the happy ending, right? All the trauma was over, I was safe, that's where the story should end. Right? I bet you're not naive enough to believe that, but I sure as hell was. I thought I would recover and that everything would be ok. I thought that with safety, there would come the chance to heal. I thought my wounds would scab over, and I would have my scars but at least I would be able to move without bleeding out. But that's not how trauma works. I had two decades worth of trauma, abuse, and hell.

I just... faded. I didn't crack, I didn't crumble, I didn't break, I just stopped. For five years I sat in one room of my home, drowning inside myself. Last year I got handed a lifeline, and now I live somewhere better. I'm not really allowed to live independently so I actually live in kind of retirement village of all places. I have my own house, but it's got intercoms and emergency cords everywhere, I get checked on daily by on on-site worker. And I'm trying to get better, I really am. It's just not that easy.

There's more to the whole story that I maybe should have put in, like the fact that my mother was a drug addict when she was pregnant with me, and that may have been the reason some of my organs didn't properly form and/or formed wrong. My lung split in half when I was a baby, and parts of my stomach are missing. Or that my mother is full on batshit insane. I could have had a perfect childhood and I still would have been mentally ill. Hell, I was seeing psychologists at five years old. Take my sketchy genetics, add twenty years of severe traumas, and well... I'm a little fucked up. Because a lot of medical conditions use acronyms, my full list of diagnosis looks like I'm collecting the fucking alphabet.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Agoraphobia. I also have a Pulmonary Sequestration, Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, the stomach and lung issues. Immune Hemolytic Anemia, I'm basically allergic to my own blood. Plus, ya know, my liver recently decided to just fucking nope out, the pissy lil bitch is failing. I also may or may not have cancer, I don't know because I pussied out of the tests. At this point I am a walking, decaying corpse that is held together by glitter glue and bitterness.

So... why exactly am I writing this? And why am I even considering posting this? I mean, my problems aren't as bad as some other people's. We've all got shit to deal with, especially in 2020. The whole world is falling apart, so what right do I have to sit here pouting and pouring my problems out? Well, for a start, I guess this is my blog, I can post whatever, and it's up to everyone else if they read it.

So here it is, you have the backstory, so here's what it's all been leading up to.

I'm struggling. Like, really struggling. I'm stuck on this cliff, and I want off, any way I can. Whether I fall or fly, I just want free. I can't live like this anymore, because I can't breathe.

The fucking agonizing duality of being socially anxious and too easily overstimulated, and yet feeling fucking empty inside if you're not surrounded by action and noise. The world is too noisy for my brain, but my brain is too noisy for the world. I get antsy if I'm not doing at least a thousand different tasks, but I get overwhelmed if I try to do anything at all. It leads to short bursts of mania, followed by weeks of depression. But underneath all of that, under all the dramatic showboating, and the dark humor, under all the bravado... I'm really just sad.

Years ago, when I first came up with the moniker "The Sad Hatter", I said it was because I may be mad, but my madness was born of sadness. I'm just sad. I carry it with me where my heart should be. So I named myself Sad, and I put on the hat, and I wore my sadness like armor, turned it into an act, and made a spectacle of it. "I'm The Sad Hatter, and I'm mentally ill but that's alright, I'm going to be just fine!" I told you all I had my issues, and I'll come close to opening up about how bad those issues are, I'll give little chunks of information at intermittent intervals, and then two hours later I'll act like it never happened. I'll admit I was close to killing myself, and then two days later I'll post dog photo's and act like I'm all better.

I'm writing this because I'm sad. And tomorrow, I'll act like I'm not. But when I waver again, I'll come back here and I'll open up again. And along the way, maybe you're reading this and realizing you aren't alone in feeling overwhelmed. Maybe you're realizing you're not the only one who isn't healing neatly and in a timely manner. Maybe you're reading this and gaining some insight into the struggles someone you care about is facing. Maybe my opening up is can help somebody else, I really hope so, but I know it's helping one person. It's helping me.

This blog, it's about living with myself. It's about living with The Sad Hatter.

#trigger warnings #mental health #anxiety #borderline personality disorder #adhd #domestic abuse #child abuse #self harm #violence #just all the trigger warnings

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minipliny · 4 years

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it’s 1am and I am angry about 2019 moby dick musical lyrics

I have been wanting to write my historical-context-of-Queequeg-in-Moby-Dick and what-the-fuck-was-the-musical for 10 months, and I have been continually aware that it is not going to be a good version of this post and that I know nothing about this subject beyond some judicious Googling and JSTOR access. On the other hand, Dave Malloy had Google too and created…….these song lyrics. So please imagine me waving at you, the reader, frantically, in the direction of more information, rather than a learned disquisition of any sort. Also if I get anything wrong (WHICH I HAVE BEFORE) tell me.

Also point one: the source text Malloy is working with is absolutely also a racist text. He just didn’t have to do…that with it. And obviously, he’s writing it as a joke! I realise this! But when you explicitly decide to do a song about cultural relativism, and then you decide to present what I think even I can notice is kind of a wildly inaccurate caricature which doesn’t really have anything else in mainstream media to counterbalance it, and then you never ever get any of the delicate character work or adaptational work that you get in Great Comet…I don’t know that this is something that was thought about or if Malloy decided to take the entire concept of 19th century Pacific Islanders and leave it as “they eat people! I can make up how exactly by consulting the Wikipedia cannibalism entry and not scrolling down to any specific examples! Also I don’t need to think about any social or historical ramifications.

So, point two. The “Autobiography” section of Moby Dick clearly and obviously draws on the account of Te Pehi Kupe’s journey to England on 26 February 1824. Geoffrey Sanborn has written several articles and books discussing this, with further articles by Juniper Ellis and Caroline Schwarz.

(I’d add at this point that this one of many many Maori journeys to Europe and America at this point, with many different aims – while Te Pehi Kupe was looking for a military resource which was giving a devastating advantage and determining much of the balance of power at the time, many other people were more interested in architecture, agriculture, manufacturing, windmills, trade, law and justice, literacy, religion, politics, and of course acquiring a printing press. So Melville’s idea of trying to find a way of making the people happier than previously is semi a joke, semi reflecting what was an actual thing)

Te Pehi Kupe, a rangatira (chief) of Ngati Toa, paddled out to the ship Urania, and resisting being thrown aboard, demanded to stay on board, go to Europe, and ask King George for guns. He befriended the captain and saved him from drowning, travelling to England to meet George IV, observe military matters (like regiments being reviewed) and visit factories. Returning to a complex and escalating series of wars partly fuelled by the huge imbalances of firepower that muskets brought, he was ultimately killed during conflict with Ngai Tahu.

For the history and conflicts of Ngāti Toa, released only a week ago is a new book containing a 50,000 account in te reo Māori of Te Rauparaha’s life, written by Te Rauparaha’s son Tamihana between 1866 and 1869.

The very same day that Aperahama Te Kawe spoke to him, Te Rauparaha announced: “In the morning we shall go, migrate; the pā is about to fall.” At this, Ngāti Toa’s spirits were lifted, the 140 who were inside their pā, Te Arawī.

In the morning when the sun was high, near midday, they migrated, they left their pā. They did not allow themselves to weep, they left Kāwhia behind, following the paths along the coast. The men and women who did not have the strength to travel were left lying on the trail and some perished from starvation.

They carried on throughout that day until nightfall. When they reached Marokopa my mother was left there, heavy with child — for indeed I was inside her womb about to be born — along with some other chiefly women of Ngāti Toa who were also left at Marokopa. The travelling party with the fighting men carried on, including Te Rauparaha. My mother was not abandoned there, another relative, Pukeroa, stayed with her to look after her, along with some others of Ngāti Toa.

The Ngāti Toa travelling party carried on. When they got to the top of Moeātoa [30 km south of Kāwhia], the hill, they looked back down at Kāwhia lying below. Now the love for their home, for Kāwhia, welled up. Then the people of Ngāti Toa and their elder, Te Rauparaha, wept, their grief was like the sighing sea. How could he not be overcome with love for the homeland that he was leaving behind, the land of his birth where his placenta was buried?

And I’m putting this really wrenching excerpt here because the history and culture that Melville very shakily and ignorantly nonetheless draws on (from religious beliefs, to the idea that the afterlife involves travel back to a specific island, to art and carving, ta moko, warfare, wedding customs to humour) is….real people’s history. The warfare of the Musket Wars did involve the ritualised consumption of the bodies of dead enemies – that didn’t actually make everything a joke to the people who took part in it, or leave their descendants without legacies to reckon with, painful memories or acts of heroism.

And I’m just going to put Ross Calman, the author of the book’s quote here regarding the very contemporary relevance of history:

We can’t pretend that it’s all going to be happy families. It’s been a very difficult past and we have to face up to the violence of the early founding years of this nation. It’s been built on violence and on deceit and on land being taken from Māori in a variety of ways. It’s left us as an impoverished people and we’re still feeling the effects today.

A lot of Pākehā say: “Oh, that’s in the past. You can’t blame me for that.” But the impact of the violence and deceit and theft is still very much with us, and that has to be addressed.

(And for more there, there is this Vincent O’Malley article for one of many, many examples)

Or for a commentary by an early 19th century Māori speaker on both European and Maori societies, have the debate between Te Whareumeu and Augustus Earle quoted in Tangata Whenua: “the only difference in our laws is, you flog and hang, but we shoot and eat”.

And finally, here is an actual comic song from the 1820s/30s Māori world, full of irony, wordplay, and double-entendre.

This was sung by some women of the Te Namu pa which had successfully withstood a siege from a taua (war-party) of Te Ati-Awa. The war-party was armed with two muskets. They made a great noise but killed nobody.

Guns came down

To Te Taniwha

To Huri—whenua—

Calling out to the weak ones

Driven here by the guns—

Ha! Come to me, black death,

Come to my thighs, conquering earth—

They shiver at his breath

He beats and burns and roars

Ha! He is done.

What a weapon of love

A sharp bullet from above—

Ha! I am caught in his cold fire

There is no end to his desire—

Ha! He is done!

#cw for #racism #warfare #cannibalism mention #i'm still angry apparently #moby dick #history

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euphoniumpets · 4 years

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The red princess | The weeping monk x reader

Summary: The castle. Their skilled warrior. The king who once fell in love with a woman that only turned into a tragic love story. His curiousity won over him and ran way with the woman who he loved. But maybe the history was repeating all over again and maybe Father carden was right about her?

Authors Note: here it is, the fanfic all of you guys have been waiting for. Also, I’m so happy to see that this small family is growing bigger and bigger and want to thank you guys for all the support and love you guys have given me. Also, consider this fanfic is like an AU? the red paladins is royalty and so on, and yes, I did with the only one bed cliqué. sue me lol (don’t do it). Also, this will be a miniseries with three parts in it. I was thinking of just doing two parts buuut, nope, ain’t doing that. ALSO I DID A ROYAL AU STORY ON MY ACCOUNT ON WATTPAD!! go check it out once i announce that i’m done with the layouts.

As usual the tag list for the ppl i love that i want to see their reaction: @purerepelsdirt @parabatai-winchester

Warnings: ehh, violence? men ogling at reader, lancelot is being a softie and father carden is being an asshole, this will contain smut in part two.

The red princess.

Was not an uncommon name that whispered around the fey folk and the people who lived around her. Everybody knew who she was. How powerful but yet innocent how she acted. Innocent but she can kill a human being with an blink of an eye.

That was her story behind the gates of the red paladin camp but her story is different on her perspective. Before she was the red princess, she was just an ordinary girl, the daughter of Father Carden, the leader of the red paladins.

Before she became a princess, her father met a lovely lady named Ravenna. Her beauty mesmerized the others and even her own father who fell in love with her. Their love was unique but it quickly dissappeared because he saw the behind of her figure. Who she really was before she died and gave birth.

That’s why y/n were locked up in the castle in the first place. After the birth of y/n, her father knew that she would be exactly just like her mother. A liar, an abomination. but maybe y/n were more than just an liar and an abomination.

That was lancelot’s thoughts when he first saw the red princess. Father carden had given him an assignment inside the castle and he crossed a hallway where he haven’t been there before. It was almost odd because he used to roam in every single hallway in the big castle and he didn’t stumble on the strange door.

The door to the room intrugied him. He wanted to know what lies behind the door but he knew that he couldn’t cross it. Because he knew that he would get caught and being punished what he had just done.

After walking past by the door several times, he gave up. He would consider that he was weak. That he couldn’t beat the curiousity that streamed through his veins. Finally, he gripped the handle and opened the door.

The room was similair to the rest of the rooms that existed inside the castle. ‘’Who the hell are you?’’ Snapping his gaze from the bed, he met the eyes of e/c. Her wavy long hair to her waist and her white dress that covered her perfectly figure. She looked like an angel that had fallen down from the heaven, lancelot thought.

Before Lancelot could say anything because he was star struck by her beauty, she let out a huff. ‘’You don’t have to answer, I know who you are,’’ she responded with wide eyes. Lancelot wanted to smirk at the satisfaction but held a unfazed expression. ‘’You do?’’ His deep voice filled her eyes as he watched her smirk from the window.

‘‘I’ve been watching you ever since,’‘ She replied as the two of them kept staring at each other. ‘‘And do I get to know who you are?’‘ He questioned after a long silence. He watched her smirk. ‘‘You wouldn’t belive me if I told you,’‘ He raised his eyebrow as an challenge. ‘‘Try me,’‘ And that was how he met the daughter of the red paladin.

It has been several days since Lancelot had visisted you from the chamber. He didn’t know why he did it. He thought he was stronger to keep his curiousity behind him. And he was afraid that father Carden would notice that he had been visiting his daughter.

But that didn’t stop him. He kept coming into your chamber every now and then at night and at day when your father was not in the castle. Y/n would lie to herself that she began to feel something for the mystery boy.

However, it has been years since she stepped outside of her room. The longing of going out and feel the sun and the air around her. The awful pit in her stomach when she would get when she would see her father.

Y/n didn’t know that her father killed her mother. Because just one secret that she had from him. She didn’t know why she was locked in a room and all her father would say that it was for her own protection.

Her days used to be surrounded by darkness but ever since Lancelot had stepped inside her room, it has been filled with light and butterflies. She didn’t know if he felt the same about her.

But Lancelot did feel something that he hasn’t felt for ages. Love. When he opened the door into her chambers again, he noticed that something was wrong with y/n. It was nighttime and her father had just visited her in the day time.

He didn’t visit her often because of his duties and that he wanted to ignore that he had a daughter born with abominaiton. But this time, it surprised y/n that he wanted to visit her. It wasn’t because of her but because of them.

He had noticed that one of his best warrior had acted strange. So, he ordered someone from the castle follow Lancelot behind and he discovered that he was with his daughter. He had threatened her by that he would kill her if she was with him again. And not by only that, he would have to kill lancelot too.

‘‘Hey,’‘ He replied softly as he took off his hood and placed it on the wooden chair. He watched y/n stare off in her thoughts by the window with a concerned expression. ‘‘What is it?’‘ He questioned her as he placed his hands onto her shoulders as he turned her around.

He watched her close her eyes before she looked deep into his eyes. ‘’He knows,’’ She replied in a hushed voice. ‘’He knows about us, and he won’t stop if we will continue to keep seeing each other,’’ She replied with fear in her voice.

‘‘y/n, I will do anything to protect you and me-’‘

‘‘No, he will kill us both,’‘ She cut him off with tears in her eyes.

‘‘We, we can’t see each other, I’m sorry,’‘ She whispered. For the first time in his life, Lancelot felt the heart break in his heart.

The next day Lancelot was in a hurry. He had planned to escape the castle and take y/n with him away from her father. As he packed his belongings, he heard the door to his chambers made a knocking sound. He felt his heart beat faster and he froze in his tracks.

With a fast movements, he tried to cover the belongings. ‘’Who is it?’’ He questioned out loud. ‘’It’s father carden, my son,’’ He gulped. He tried to not show any fear against the man who had took him into the castle and treated him like a son.

He gripped the handle as he put an unfazed expression. He watched the figure of father carden as he greeted him and stepped aside os he could enter his room. ‘’I see that you’re going somewhere?’’ He heard him speak behind him as he frowned. He turned around as he closed the door behind him as he spotted the messly cover up on his bed.

‘‘Yes,’‘ He replied with his deep voice. Father Carden turned around. ‘‘I know about the little affairs you have with my daughter,’‘ He told him as he stepped closer towards Lancelot. ‘‘I warn you boy, you do not want to be with her,’‘ He warned him. ‘‘Why is that? So you can lock her up and leave her to rot?’‘ He sneered.

He scoffed. ‘’I’m locking her up for protection from the horrible world we live in,’’ He explained, Lancelot clenched his fists in anger. ‘’You’re leaving her to rot,’’ He growled. Father Carden snickered slightly towards him as he shook his head.

‘‘Listen to me, Lancelot, she’s brainwashing you, look at you! you’ve turned soft for her,’‘ Father carden sneered. ‘‘This is not what I have trained you to be,’‘

‘‘You can’t stop us, we’re leaving tonight,’‘ He told him as Father Carden scoffed. ‘‘I don’t think so, the only thing y/n will be recieving tonight is your dead body,’‘ Father Carden said as the guards stormed into his chambers.

Y/n tried to pack her belongings as fasts as she could. Ever since the threat she had gotten from her father and the plan that Lancelot had told her about few days ago, she agreed to escape the castle with him.

The door banged open as she immedietly took the sword that Lancelot had given her. She relaxed when she saw Lancelot storm inside her room and took the bag. That was not the only thing she noticed from the stress behaviour from him, but she saw the blood at his face.

With wide eyes, she rushed towards him in concern. ‘’Lance, what happen-’’ she gasped as she felt when he took her by the wrist. ‘’We don’t have time, y/n, come on!’’ He urged her as the two of them ran out of the castle.

Y/n didn’t know how long they have been riding. It seemed that it was midnight and that they neared a village far away from the castle. The horse stopped as y/n watched Lancelot hop off the horse before he helped her too. She landed on the ground with a thump.

‘‘You’re alright?’‘ Lancelot asked her quietly. She smiled tiredly towards him as the blood had almost dried from his face. She wiped some of the blood gently. ‘‘Exhausted, but I will be fine,’‘ She answered as he nodded.

He took off the bag from the horse and all the belongings before he tied the rope against a branch. Turning her gaze, it seemed that they were at a hostel and a pub.

‘‘Stay close,’‘ She heard him whisper in her ears when she noticed some men were oglig at her. She nodded with fear written on her face as she walked closer to him. Y/n was filled with curiousity since she had never been outside from her room since long she could remember.

Suddenly, a woman stopped in front of them. ‘’It seems that you two have been wandering for a long time,’’ The woman replied with a smirk on her face. ‘’We’re looking for a room to stay for the night,’’ He responded as the woman walked closer to him.

Y/n looked at her with a weird look before the woman’s eyes trilled down on her. With a decieving look on her face, she trailed her fingers slightly on y/n’s face. Lancelot gripped his sword tighter. ‘’So, beautiful...’’ The woman whispered before she looked towards Lancelot.

‘‘Fine, ‘‘ The woman replied. ‘‘But it has a price,’‘ She replied as she glanced towards you as you looked at her with a fearful look. ‘‘No, she belongs to me,’‘ He growled. ‘‘How about I give you money?’‘ The woman looked at him with interest.

‘‘How much?’‘

‘‘I have 1000 silvers,’‘ Lancelot replied.

‘‘Give me 400 silvers, just because you have a beautiful woman next by your side,’‘ Lancelot gave the money to the woman as she led the two of you through the hostel. She opened the door as she gave you a smirk before she left the room as you looked at her with a confused look.

Turning your gaze towards the room, it was decent. Only problem though it was that only one bed and y/n knew that this night was going to be an interesting night.

#the weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk #royalty au #cursed #father carden #nimue #squirrell #percival #smut

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urmomsstuntdouble · 4 years

Note

If ur still doing the 100 followers thing, well I challenge YOU with deciphering Lithuania.

ok anon thank you so much for asking this question because i have in fact recently fallen in love with lithuania, because they are such an interesting character! (also hhhh im so sorry for how late this is)

Gender

As you may have noticed, I usually use they/them pronouns to refer to Lithuania. I hc them as being nonbinary and using he/they pronouns, though I personally prefer to use they rather than he in that case because. Idk what pronouns you use. But in my experience it’s really hard to get people to call you ‘they’ when you go by ‘he/they’ or ‘she/they’ or smth like that. Though I don't imagine any of the nations are very attached to their “birth gender” (are nations born???), lithuania is one of those who is a bit less attached. They’re just sort of there, in terms of gender. In my headcanons i also think this has something to do with religion, as lithuania was one of the last european countries to convert to Christianity- just because so much of gender as we know it comes from christianity and what people in the 16th and 17th centuries considered a ‘good’ christian. Thats not to say that there are no gender roles in other religions, but that the way westerners typically conceptualize gender has quite a lot to do with the religious conflicts occurring within christianity. Like you can trace the ideas behind the nuclear family archetype back to the protestant reformation. Additionally, I hc them as being Jewish, which further distances them from the western christian gender roles (though that’s not why i hc them as jewish! More on that later). Finally, i just like myself some trans/nb characters. There’s so few popular trans hcs and that makes me kinda sad ya know? Welcome to the trans agenda its just me projecting onto all my faves

Mental Health

Okay, so, i think it’s pretty well known that lithuania’s mental health is wack. They’re often characterised as being a very anxious person, but i think the ways in which they’re anxious is super interesting. For one, they are extremely conflict averse and like to avoid it by being a sort of people pleaser. It’s a sort of defense mechanism, because nobody can hate you if you do whatever they say. Like, if you let people be shitty to you, they won’t hate you for your personality. This is clearly flawed logic because then people are still going to be shitty to you, but. It makes sense to liet. In their mind, it’s okay to let people hurt if your reason is sound enough- Because if they’re not super emotionally engaged in a relationship that’s unhealthy for them, then they can’t get hurt, right? Of course, they can. A good example of this is their relationship with Russia. I think tolvydas sees compliance as necessary there, in order to avoid being hurt. The thing is…compliance is also hurting them, even if they see it as ‘worth it.’ To them, behaving in a submissive way is a survival tactic. A really bad one, but a survival tactic nonetheless.

This also plays into their tendency to be self-martyring. I think Tolvydas is very good at fighting, and all around a really awesome warrior (strong aragorn energy), which makes them think that they need to be the one to save everyone. Hero complex, sort of. This, coupled with their almost maternal care for Latvia and Estonia, makes them feel like they have a sort of weight-of-the-world on their shoulders. Though Estonia and Latvia do look up to them a lot, Tolvydas can sometimes fail to realise that they are also their own people and can fight their own battles. He feels a sort of obligation to protect them due to their shared culture and languages as The Baltic Trio, though it doesn’t go much further than a sense of obligation. They spent most of their youth fighting, to the extent that that’s most of what Tolvydas personally knows as ‘life,’ but they never actually got to know the other two Baltics very well until the modern day. They have to protect, have to be a caregiver, but they don’t actually know super well the things they’re trying to protect. It’s both a sense of obligation to protect as well as the sense that this is all they’re good at and as long as they’re fighting for a morally just cause, that’ll do.

I think something that would expose this flaw would be when they were first taken over by the Russian Empire in the 1790s, they were pretty miserable about a lot of things- Like the loss of all their territory and the sudden statelessness of their people- but a big one would’ve been the loss of Poland. This isn’t meant to be super shippy, but you know. They were united into one kingdom, and they had been for centuries, so i don’t imagine it was an easy separation. Though this is more up for debate where real people are concerned, these characters were essentially a big part of each other, ya know? Regardless of how much Lithuania actually likes Poland, they’re still a part of each other and that separation will undoubtedly be painful. Anyway, all that is to say that this separation was at the forefront of their mind during the beginning of the 19th century, and they let it sort of prevent them from taking care of the other Baltics. The issue with that is that they still considered themself to be protecting Estonia and Latvia, even though, in reality, nobody was. Also in reality, Lithuania was making themself out to be the worst off, and were generally sort of annoying to be around at this point in time. Their whole woe-is-me attitude wasn’t fun, and they were hypocritical in that they saw themself as being a better friend than they actually were. They still see themself as being a great friend, and though it’s improved in recent years, they’re still sort of. Flighty, i guess, where friendship is concerned. There was also a lot of annoyance by the other baltics about them being so self-martyring- Tolvydas was Ivan’s favorite, after all (that’s not necessarily a good thing, but. He was softer on them in certain ways). Anyway, I guess the big takeaway of this paragraph is that Liet often lets their self perception cloud the way they act in relationships.

Much of the stuff I’ve mentioned so far is a result of them having quite a lot of PTSD. I think Lithuania’s character tends to be explored through a few common lenses, those being the medieval vibes of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and through being oppressed by the Russian Empire/Soviet Union. Not to say that there’s not a lot of other content about them, but this is what I see most often. I think that all the nations have some form of PTSD, but with Lithuania it’s very pronounced, and it’s made clear that a lot of their tendencies are a result of past trauma- Like the need to take care of others. This is likely originating with their childhood, as they grew up in a very violent environment where their survival was never guaranteed (survivor’s guilt much?) and violence was just the way of things. This is where the need to protect comes from. There used to be several more Baltic nations, though you could argue that now there’s only two- Lithuania and Latvia, as Estonia does not speak a Baltic language and would really like to be considered Nordic.

Finally, Lithuania is also an interesting character where forgiveness is concerned. I think their sense of morality is very black and white, so some people (Feliks) will be easily forgiven where others (Ivan) will not. In reality, I think it would definitely be valid for Tolvydas to hate both of them, yet they don't- Because they decided that Feliks was a friend and Ivan was not. Both Feliks and Ivan care very deeply about them, but neither treats Tolvydas in a very good way. Of course, I’m aware that the situation in the Russian Empire/USSR and the Commonwealth were very different, but I’m talking about these three dudes and their relationships with each other beyond the lens of politics. Because Feliks tried to be their friend in a way that didn’t hurt them tremendously, and because. Look at them, Feliks isn’t 5’4 and can’t hurt you. They’re not an intimidating person and they’re not incredibly powerful like Ivan is. Though that’s not all of it- Feliks’ feelings for Tolvydas are definitely a purer, more selfless type of love than what Ivan feels for them- it makes it harder for Tolvydas to hold a grudge against them. Whereas for Ivan, their relationship was about control. He needed to control them as a way of expressing how he felt about them. He represents a lot of what Tolvydas fought against in their youth, so of course they hate him. Of course, I don’t think they like holding grudges. They want to be able to care for everyone, because they know that everyone deserves to be treated well and cared for and all that. You can't exactly do that if you hold a grudge against someone, so it actually kind of sucks for them when they see someone they hate suffering. It’s a sort of conflict of interest- The caregiving instincts vs the hatred for this person- and they often don’t know what to do in that situation. Usually they wind up helping but not happy about it. They just don’t want to see others suffer, despite the fact that they dislike this person (Russia is of course the exception. They don’t want to help him at all anymore).

Relationship with family

So, this is a bit of an interesting topic. I think the Baltics consider themselves family just because of what they’ve been through together, but they’re not actually blood related. Though they share similar cultures, and languages, they’re just not related. Maybe Lithuania and Latvia are cousins, but yeah. Lithuania sees themself as the head of their little family, as they have the oldest surviving European culture and language. They sometimes get in their head about that, and can act like both a mom friend and a mom who is bad at mom-ing. It’s a sort of self appointed thing, and can be really annoying to the other two. They don’t pay the utmost attention to their fellow Baltics, and are more concerned with physical well being than emotional well being, so, despite establishing themself as a caretaker, do not wind up actually caring for the other Baltics in the ways they need to be cared for.

Fighting style

So, as I’ve mentioned, Lithuania is a talented fighter. They go hard as shit, and can very much kick your ass. I think they prefer to be very technical about how they fight, with something boring like a broadsword as their weapon of choice, but are not afraid to fight dirty. Like rip off an ear with their teeth kind of playing dirty. I think they take fighting very seriously. Though Lithuania as we know it is only about 800 years old, I think Tolvydas is much older. The definition of a nation (a large body of people united by common descent, history, culture, or language, inhabiting a particular country or territory, according to the oxford dictionary) does not require there to be a central governing body, so I think it’s quite possible for Lithuania to be well over 2000. Anyway, all that is to say that they didn’t grow up in medieval times, so by the time they’re like. Achieving dominance in Eastern Europe, they’re already very old and well versed in many different styles of fighting. In the modern day, I think they’ve learned more different fighting styles from other parts of the world, but will always fall back on the way they learned how to fight in ancient times.

Religion

So as I mentioned earlier, Lithuania is Jewish in my headcanons (orthodox, specifically. I think they're kinda traditional). I have a couple reasons for this- There has been a historical presence of Ashkenazi Jews in Lithuania, going back to the 13th or 14th century, and this is due to certain legal protections granted to Jewish people under pre-Commonwealth law. They were legally on similar footing to the average free people of Lithuania, and were able to create a slightly more prosperous community than Jews in other areas of Europe. This was also affected by the Black Plague of the 1340s. Orthodox Jews tend to put a high value on cleanliness, and often have two sinks in their houses (my childhood home, for example, had two sinks, and i lived in a majority jewish area). They also happened to be concentrated in Eastern Europe, due to the protections. Because of this, Eastern European Jews have some of the highest sruvival rates for the Black Plague and actually brought up the survival rates of the region as a whole- Though this also resulted in some intense antisemitism, as many Christians blamed Jewish people for the plague even happening, due to their higher survival rates. Despite various expulsions and the loss of legal rights, the Jewish population remained relatively steady up until world war 2. Jewish people made up about 10% of the total population of Lithuania in 1941, and 45% of the total population of Vilnius. (To put this in perspective, the entire world population is only about 0.2% Jewish). Anyway, all this is to say that it’s not out of the question for Lithuania to be Jewish.

Extras/Fun stuff

Lithuania loves reading, especially the fantasy/fairy tale genre. It makes them nostalgic without the trauma of reading historical fiction.

They’re also very musically gifted, and can play the piano, bass, ukelele, and flute.

They wear docs.

They love hot chocolate.

They remind me of both Aragorn from lotr and Hozier. They’re such a sweet lad.

Bicon who has like 5 people thirsting for them at a given moment but is either oblivious or not looking for a relationship right now.

Here are my fics with lithuania as a main character!

My previous character analyses of lithuania (sorry they’re mostly in shipping contexts, rip) and another good analysis someone else did

My playlist for them

and i think thats it! of course i could always talk more about them, but those are my thoughts for now! thank you so much for the ask, i hope i was able to meet your challenge!

writing requests

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manychocolatefactories · 4 years

Text

CatCF Milk Chocolate: Part 1, the kids

About this version: Milk Chocolate was inspired originally by a mix of the book, the vibes of the 1971 movie and the Tim Burton movie aesthetic. A bit more goofier and whimsical than the other versions. In term of era, I thought of it as a mix of 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.

In this version seven Golden Tickets are spread throughout the world, and each time one is found the same female reporter (her character is a reference to the musical) goes to interview the children. Another recurring joke is that while the hunt is going on for the Tickets, there are all sorts of ridiculous debates on television such as: do the Golden Tickets really exist, or is this just a hoax ? Do the Golden Tickets give cancer? Can animals go on a tour like humans? What happens if a Golden Ticket winner dies before the tour? Are the Golden Tickets linked to the rise of youht delinquence? Are the Golden Tickets a proof of Wonka's alleagiance to the obscure sect of the Golden Bird?

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on Augustus Gloop)

This Augustus was actually based on an idea Stained-by-the-sea allowed me to "borrow" a bit. Stained noted that Augustus always made him thought of this section from the movie "North", about Buck and the Texan parents. If you don't know what I am talking about, I'll leave links down there. And this is such a perfect matc I had to dig a bit down there.

This Augustus is basically a mix of all the archetypes associated with Texas and Nevada. But more precisely, he is basically "Buck" from North - a boy whose family (and his own mindset) embody the motto "bigger is better".

The Gloop family always thought that they should be "the biggest and the bests" and that "bigger is better". Ironically, the Gloop parents themselves are regular-sized people, but they clearly enforced this mentality on their son. Augustus is a big boy. Literally. He is tall, he is thick, he is fat, he is very, very big. He is probably one of the tallest, and definitively the largest boy on the tour (in fact, he once or twice gets stuck in the doors of Wonka factory). He eats ten meals per day, and we are not talking of regular sized meals. We are talking piles of ribs, kilos of potatoes, entire chickens... His parents also prepared for him a "big" and "best" future - paying the local sportive teams to claim he is a sports champion despite Augustus never setting a foot on a sports field, arranging his marriage with the local beauty queen of the state he lives in, already preparing the three different houses he will live with his fifteen kids... As a result, Augustus isn't just big and fat physically, he also has a massive and bloated ego. He thinks that he is the best at everything, and that he should have absolutely everything he wants.

The Gloops themselves are actually the masters of the state they live in, so to speak. They are the wealthiest and most influential industrials of the area: they built highways, casinos, hotels, private villas, they are cow-farmers, owing a lot of slaughterhouses, and also dig for oil and gold. They want their business to be the "biggest there ever was" and all they do is exaggerately big: their villas are enormous, their hotels are everywhere, their farms hosts several thousands cows, their mines are among the deepest in the world...

Trouble is that, due to their expansion and consumption of everything, they are a threat to the landscape and the environment - destroying forests to build their roads and buildings, drying out the lands to feed their farms... in fact, part of the reason why their state looks like the most desertic parts of Texas and Nevada is due to their actions.

Think... Buck from North. Think Art Land from Mar Attack. Think an evil (and obese) version of Clay Bailey from "Xiaolin Showdown". In fact, if I remember well in one episode Clay turns into a sumo for one of the Showdowns... this would probably be Augustus' appearance in this version: sumo Clay Bailey. (Edit: Yes, I checked out, it is episode 23 of the series).

Second Winner: Clarence Crump

(Based on: Clarence Crump)

Clarence didn't had any kind of personnality in the original drafts outside of a desire to prove he was right. As a result, I decided to have a lot of fun and create my own character.

The idea of vanity has already been touched several times with the other brats, but I wanted to give it its own character and kid. I also wanted to create a polar opposite of Augustus, denouncing the fact that being skinny can be just as bad as being fat when in excess. As a result, Clarence Crump is here a boy obsessed about being thin, and proud of being too skinny for his own good.

Mr. Crump is a pseudo-health guru that keeps writing phony and very dangerous diet books, the kind that will advice you to stop eating altogether to lose weight. As for Mrs. Crump, she is a beauty pageant champion (local and regional, and while she acts as if she was some national beauty champion, she always failed at nationals). From their union was born a child who inherited their vanity, pride and obsession with "health"

Black haired, very pale, very thin, very slender, to the point his bones show, Clarence delights in being skinny, and works as a teenager model promoting the "thin-fashion". He is also the embodiment of fat-shaming, never missing an occasion to insult fat people (in fact he often calls Augustus a big fat cow). He uses however the excuse of health for that (a trick his parents taught him) - promoting extreme thinness by talking about health and fat-shaming people in the name of health allows one to be much more horrible than normally accepted.

A good proof of how Clarence actually is just very vain and obsessed with being thin, and not at all defending health - Clarence condemns sports for being unhealthy, because according to him "muscles are unhealthy because they don't make you look beautiful, they make you look ugly".

He always wears short and black sleeveless tank-tops, the point being that he needs to show as much as his body to the world as possible, to be a "living example". He even wears his black short and tank-top during the tour (despite it being winte - the only thing he wears on top of his clothes to not get cold is a skunk fur coat).

Third Winner: Miranda Grope

(Based on: Miranda Grope)

This character was based on Dahl's own character of "Miranda Grope" from early drafts of the story, the horrible and atrocious girl allowed to do "whatever she wants".

In my version, the Grope parents are hippie-like people, the father having a very long beard and being covered in fleas, while the mother is covered in flowers and oss (plants that grew over her), and both always wearing rose-tinted glasses. They are the kind of parents that refuse authority and orders, seeing these (and social norms as a whole) as a "dictatorship". They prefer to trust their daughter to find her own way in the world, believing that experience is the best teacher in life. The result? They lazily raised her by telling her they would never forbid her anything and that she could do anything she wanted.

Miranda is a devilish little girl who does only what she wants, and becomes extremely violent when prevented from doing something. Or when people say something she doesn't want to hear. Or just when people she dislikes are near her. She shouts, the screams, she insult, she kicks, she hit, she throw enormous and terrifying tantrums. She has a very wide range of insults, and a truly evil mind : most of the things she wants to do are borderline crimes. It seems for her only chaos and destruction is "fun", a true little punk.

Miranda has a disastrous haircut because she cuts her hair herself, and she is always wearing the same clothes that she rarely washes): a white shirt, a blue sweater with long sleeves, and a plaid tiles skirt. An outfit that looks strikingly like a school uniform - but it is pure irony, because Miranda hates more than anything in the world school. She doesn't go to school, and the only time she went near one was to try to burn it down. (Her appearance is in fact based on Lauren Child's illustrations for Miranda, if you are wondering).

Fourth Winner: Veruca Salt

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

For this Veruca, I wanted to do something slightly different... here, Veruca doesn't want everything just because she is a spoiled rich brat. She is still one, but she is also the product of post-WW2 consumerism.

This Veruca was born surrounded by advertisements, logos, slogans and product placements. On television, in the streets, in shops, in journals, at the radio... She grew up with them and was influenced, brainwashed by them. As a result, she is obsessed with obtaining everything that was advertised, and she herelf looks like a walking billboard since she is covered in big, flashy logo and keeps reciting different brands' slogans and mottos. As soon as she sees something she saw publicity of before, she needs to obtain it at once. She is a true zombie, only hearing the call of the shopping mall and of the television advertisements.

One idea I had was that the Salt parents actually worked for (or where at the head of) a wealthy advertisement company, known to produce, design and create all kinds of famous publicities and slogans - and that they used their daughter as a guinea pig for their tests, and delighted in Veruca being so addicted to consumerism. In fact, they may have named her Veruca because at the moment of her birth they were working on advertisements for an anti-wart product, so that's all they had in mind.

Fifth winner: Herpes Trout

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

I went with this version of Mikee Teavee with the focus on "violence" already present in the original work, but also heavily used in the opera (and touched a bit in the 2005 movie).

This Herpes Trout is the embodiment of the fear of kids becoming violent upon watching television and playing video games (his only two passions in life). He has a true fascination with guns and firearms - US soldiers shooting aliens, gangs shooting each other, cowboys shooting at bandits, it's all he ever plays and watches. Herpes worships violence, and is absolutely obsessed with war (here I am thinking of all the wars present from the 60s to the 80s, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Glasgow Ice Cream Wars...). War propaganda and the fight being glorifyed heavily influenced him - as a result his biggest dream is to go at war in some foreign country to kill everyone there and come home a hero.

Herpes comes from a family of rednecks and hillbillies from the deep country. They are not poor however, they are wealthy enough to have television and several video games, but they are uneducated people full of stereotypes, discrimination and hate. They named their son Herpes because they ignored what it meant but just thought of it as an "intelligent" name. Herpes has everal brothers and sisters, and all have a disease name.

Herpes himself is a big and strong kid, who followed body-buildings process a la Charles Atlas and military training, becoming impressively muscular. However, he retained a soft, childish and chubby "baby face", which kind of ruins the effect of this massive, muscular, almost adult body. Always dressed in a military outfit, he carries everywhere with him guns and firearms, the question being: are they real? Or are they not?

Sixth Winner: Violet Glockenberry

(Based on Violet Beauregarde)

I wanted with this version to take back the idea of a competitive and "sportive" girl obsessed with contesting and winning - introduced in the Tim Burton movie.

This Violet is a tall, muscular and strong girl. She won numerous sportive competitions, but this doesn't make her just arrogant and prideful like in the Tim Burton version. In my version she is also very aggressive and violent (a bit like in the original novel). She is a nasty and rude bully easily prone to anger (in fact, if she keeps chewing gum it is mostly to calm her down sot hat she doesn't punch everyone around). Her parents originally pushed her towards competitions to manage her anger issues, but sports only gave her more strength and destructive power. In fact, they became terrified of her, while she considers them losers here to serve her - she basically thinks of herself as self-made, literaly.

Seventh Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charlie Bucket)

For this Charlie, I wanted to go with a Charlie similar to the original illustrations of the character: blond hair, blue eyes, a white boy...

Basically, he is the original Charlie. Very sweet, very innocent, a gentle kid, the best of the group.

However I changed slightly his background. Charlie in this version is not the grandson of four grandparents, but rather the big brother of four younger siblings - and his family here struggles with trying to feed five children (and a total of seven mouths) despite having very humble and low-paid jobs. I think Charlie has taken the role of a parentive figure for the siblings, but at the same time him spending so much time with young children helped him keep in touch with his "childish" side.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #milk chocolate #retelling #charlie bucket #violet beauregarde #mike teavee #augustus gloop #veruca salt #miranda grope #clarence crump

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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What are your takes or opinions on Mr. Haley? He knew abou the court of owls didn't he? I honestly can't remember

He did. I know a lot of people don’t like that aspect of the Court of Owls retcon because they prefer Dick to still have that kindly uncle/grandfather kind of figure from his childhood to remain untarnished by that association. But its better than it like, having been his parents in the know, and I do feel like it just wouldn’t work narratively to have the Court have this association with the circus stretching back several generations into Dick’s family, without ANYONE from Dick’s childhood having any idea. Not only does it strain suspension of disbelief purely on a logistical front, it kinda....wastes the narrative opportunity of a personal betrayal/revision of a character’s understanding of their own history, that’s kinda....the POINT of doing a story like that in the first place.

So I’m fine with Mr. Haley having known and being a reluctant/intimidated functionary of the Court who knew what Dick’s fate was intended to be, because frankly, someone had to be and it might as well be him. He’s more of a cipher/plot vehicle than a character most of the time anyway.....the point of him is the impact/role he has in Dick’s life, and again, when personal betrayal is the point of the story, like....someone’s gotta take the fall.

But then, I know a lot of people don’t like the Court of Owls retcon in the first place, because of the way it makes it Dick’s destiny to always become embroiled in violence or the superhero/villain fight one way or another. That it further angsts up his backstory, etc, etc.

First off, my opinion on that last part will always be: bah humbug. Dick’s backstory is the tragic loss of his parents and everything familiar to him. Its already angsty as fuck, and if you think that adding the Court of Owls makes it extensively MORE angsty, its likely you weren’t giving his original trauma/angst as much deference as it was due all on its own, and unconsciously or not, you’re still just leaning into the idea of Trauma Olympics in general, the idea that there even CAN be rankings to trauma on this scale, or at least, that there’s any practical reason for TRYING to rank things in that matter.

So that, much as with the juvie origin, I say is irrelevant.

Now in terms of how it makes Dick’s future ‘destined’ to be painful even without the loss of his parents, if the night of their murder hadn’t happened......I mean, I can kinda understand that a little more, but I don’t really agree with that notion because like.....the point is, in everything other than random AUs.....Dick’s parents DID die that night. We already KNOW his fate. The POINT of his character is that happened, and this is how it shaped him.....so the fact that he was already ‘destined’ for more hardship and tragedy isn’t really a deterrent to adding this retcon because.....he already ended up with more hardship and tragedy anyway, so ‘avoiding’ taking an alternate route to hardship and tragedy doesn’t really....actually avoid anything or add or keep anything in Dick’s premise or narrative.

But then there’s the argument that it diminishes the power of Dick’s choice to be a superhero, if he was always going to be destined to end up in this conflict one way or another....that he’s not really an everyman who voluntarily takes up the fight if the fight was always inevitable for him. That’s a bit more of a compelling argument for me, since y’know I’m always about the power of choice and yada yada yada.

But the sticking point here is that.....Dick’s archetype and narrative have NEVER been him as an everyman who could choose an ordinary life for himself but instead is a hero. Like, to me that’s just a very superficial reading of the fact that he’s not actually superhuman. But in no other way has Dick ever been an everyman. Pre-his parents’ murder he was a professional acrobat and showman from early childhood, of international renown. Post-his parents’ murder he was raised by a bona fide superhero who moonlights as a ditzy billionaire playboy by day.

Nothing about Dick Grayson’s skills or life was EVER that of an ‘everyman.’

Additionally, I think this notion also only comes from comparing him directly to Bruce, and focusing on the similarities in their backstories and the common bond of their parents’ murders, and the fact that he’s more of an everyman in comparison to Bruce because of how Bruce sticks out as a billionaire from birth, accomplished at everything, a master of all trades by the time we ever really MEET Bruce on the page, with his own origins largely told in flashbacks and backstory.

But, this is also why personally, I focus on the differences in their backstories....on using that shared experience they have as the BASIS for their relationship, like the reason Bruce sees him as especially standing out as a victim he has empathy for given that it brings to mind his own past trauma and hurt......but not like....using it to juxtapose Dick and Bruce directly, as I think that really doesn’t work.

Because Dick’s archetype, all of his narratives, IMO, are those of the fish out of water.

The culture clash, I’ve always maintained, is every bit as much a trauma as his parents’ murder, because it was like living one life until he’s eight or ten or whatever, and then just being told all in one day, or one week, hey, all of that is over now. This is your new life, even if it has NOTHING in common with your old one, and you just have to suck it up and make your peace with the fact that everything you knew is gone and you have to start over from scratch. New city, new routines, new family, new future, new everything. Even how you act around other people and expect or take as a given they’ll act with you is going to be different from now on.

None of that is anything that Bruce can relate to, because its not Bruce’s archetype. Those aren’t his narratives. And I think there’s a tendency to focus overmuch on Dick and Bruce’s similarities at the expense of acknowledging that Dick Grayson is no more a knock-off of Bruce Wayne than Robin is a derivative of Batman. Robin’s Batman’s junior partner or protege or sidekick or whatever you want to call it....but Robin has never stood in anyone’s mind as “Batman-lite” because he’s ENTIRELY different from Batman even just on a CONCEPTUAL level. They’re linked, but they’re not the same. Robin follows where Batman leads, but Robin does not derive from Batman directly.

Same with Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. They’re similar in places, they’re linked by shared experiences and stories, but Dick’s no more Bruce-lite than he is as Robin. And I think focusing on him in terms of who his character is SEPARATE from Bruce, like....goes a long way towards making him distinct in his own right, even when standing right next to Bruce.

So I’ve always felt that whether in canon or fanfics, the key to developing Dick as his own character in his own right, not dependent or derivative of anyone else, is to determine what his core archetype is regardless of all else around him, and lean into THAT.

And for me, that archetype is the fish out of water, so my inclination is always going to LEAN INTO the fact that like....the point of his character, his entire character premise, is and always was going to be that of the guy who was plucked from one life and dropped into another entirely, and had to find a way to adapt to that, survive and even learn to thrive despite all the obstacles this presented, and the inherent tragedy of him having to do it at all.

So that means acknowledging the culture clash, building on it, emphasizing the class distinctions between his origin and Bruce’s, just focusing on the fact that he was NEVER Bruce-lite....because he always arrived on the scene, came into the picture, with his own entirely separate and distinct backstory, origin, and beginnings, just with his narrative journey then merging with Bruce’s at that point of OVERLAP, that shared experience where they both lost their parents in similar ways.

So coming at the character from that direction - the Court of Owls retcon doesn’t really change any of that for me at all. Because when the premise of Dick’s character is that he had to learn how to survive and overcome being forced into situations and a life that he wasn’t prepared for and didn’t even want in the first place.....well, then, the parallel path of him being taken from the circus by the Court of Owls instead, again....doesn’t actually force anything new on his character or take anything away from his character. It just....presents an alternative course for the same essential narrative journey.

So despite me not being a fan of Talon fics because of all the reasons I’ve mentioned before (plus the fact that it bothers me that so many people feel a need to make Dick literally superhuman but in no other way operating on a different level from his family’s general capabilities when.....his character has never required being superhuman to do anything on that level before, HMM. Or if people do focus on making him different, its usually just in terms of showcasing his healing, which...kinda tends to end up turning him into a human pincushion every other scene, with an additional decrease to how much other characters even notice this or wonder if he’s hurting because oh well, he’ll be fine again in a paragraph. Which again I say, I Object)....despite that, lol, I have no problem with the Court of Owls retcon even though it nominally takes away some of Dick��s choices to say that he never really had a choice in getting involved in these larger than life conflicts.

*Shrugs* Because it only does that in theory. In practice, we’re all reading the adventures of Dick Grayson as Robin and Nightwing and Batman. Not the daily life of Dick Grayson, adult circus acrobat with a nice, happy life.

Instead, the Court of Owls retcon IMO actually just adds directly to Dick’s premise as I see it....both with the fish out of water archetype AND as the fact that like....his core struggle throughout all of his stories is that he’s the guy determined to chart his own destiny no matter how much circumstances or society or even his own loved ones try to force him down specific paths or pigeon hole him in specific boxes. Limit him or take away his options or force him to act or make choices from a place of having less avenues he can go.

Like, that’s who he is to me, so the Court and his ‘destiny’ as the Gray Son just.....if anything, bring that into even sharper focus.

If anything, my biggest issue with the Court of Owls retcon is that it didn’t go FAR enough.

It was basically the first major story of the Batfamily in the New 52, when we were introduced to these familiar characters in different ways, so I would have taken that and run with it, and in the process opened up a LOT more doors.

What I mean is....instead of this having been a revelation to Dick ALONGSIDE the rest of his family and readers when it occurred in the present day....I would have had the present day storyline reveal this as the secret history of Batman and Robin, and build on the idea that the Court had already made a move to claim Dick as the Gray Son right after or soon after his parents’ death, and Bruce had rescued him/defeated them, and then they’d kinda just buried this ever since.

First off....it cleans things up logistically. Having them seize upon an already existing tragedy and capitalize it, either by taking him directly then or maybe being the cause of him going to juvie/a bad foster home and using that to present themselves as his saviors when they introduce themselves to him, or anything similar to that.....its always going to make a lot more sense than the idea of a secret society pulling the strings of the city like....having no option to prevent an infamously irresponsible young bachelor from taking in this traumatized boy, and then just waiting a decade or more while their target becomes more and more ingrained in the public eye and consciousness before trying to....disappear him. Umm. No. Make it make sense.

Secondly, it goes a long way towards addressing the problems in child superheroes/sidekicks at all....which is definitely something DC already had on the brain when they rebooted their universe. Given that they....tried to claim Dick was like sixteen when he met Bruce, and that the other Robins since then all came and went in a span of like, a year each. Endless sigh of endlessness. Hey, DC, if your big priority is keeping the ages of your more famous characters down, is the best move condensing the timeline and simultaneously aging UP many of those same characters before they even debut? Umm. No. Make it make sense.

However. Keep Dick the same age he was when he and Bruce met pre-boot (which, lbr, most fics and even canon stories ended up doing anyway).....and suddenly, you get a lot more options.

Because say you’re Bruce Wayne, and you just took down the Gotham chapter of this globe-spanning shadow organization and rescued a traumatized boy you empathize and relate to, who had been taken by this organization with the specific intention of raising him up to be a merciless killing machine they then made an immortal, obedient weapon out of. And you know that other chapters of this organization are still out there, they still want this kid because they literally believe they own him and his destiny, and no other foster home or group home or placement is ever going to be able to understand what this kid has already been through and might have to face again if they ever try and take him again?

And on top of that, this kid has already like...imprinted on you from saving him from this fate, trusts you despite having major and understandable trust issues up the wazoo now, and probably will NEVER open up to anyone the way he might to you? And oh yeah, he also wants to learn to do all the stuff you can do so he, like you, can MAKE something of his tragedy, find a way to give it reason or purpose he can use to hopefully move on someday, he wants to defy the people who viewed him as nothing more than an inevitable killer by learning how to be a protector and defender instead, by CHOICE?

What do you do in THAT case?

You take that kid in. You train him, teach him everything he needs to know to be able to defeat them the way you defeated them, if they come back for him in the future. You keep him by your side, not to control him, but to protect him, or at least make him feel that he’s protected, that he has someone who WANTS to protect him, be there for him, WITH him, that despite having his own life, wants to be just one grapple swing away and the first person able to do something about it if the threat always lurking just around the corner someday reappears.

You introduce him to the others in the hero community, maybe even build connections where you previously stayed aloof, so that he’s PART of something, feels connected to something other than the fate tied to him by a bloodline he can’t shake or do anything about, that he has family and friends that aren’t just his much hated Great-Grandpa Billy Cobb Thornton. You make sure he has people who will be there for him even if you can’t be someday, if that Court tries to take him again, you won’t be the only cavalry riding to his rescue.

You probably don’t advertise any of this, at least not beyond a few trusted friends like Diana and Clark. Even as others start to emulate you, training proteges of their own and assuming they know your reasons, you still respond to people criticizing your debut of a young, child partner, no matter his skill level, by brusquely telling them its none of their business. Because there’s really no other way to justify it without telling the truth, and the truth is not something you want to hide not just to keep secrets or because you don’t trust others, but purely for HIS sake. You take it and lock it away and bury it as deeply as you can for no other reason than because it HURTS him. Because the truth is PAINFUL.

Its inherently connected to a time and a space and a part of Dick’s personal history that will never be anything other than a trauma whose shadow he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to break free of no matter what you do. But at least what you can do is minimize the number of times and places and people which require he face it all over again. That bring it all bubbling back up to the surface to confront and shove back down each and every time someone might feel like reminding him his own ancestor wanted nothing more for him than to be someone else’s obedient weapon, so why should they care anymore than that about his opinion, or plans, or viewpoint. You bury this secret not because its shameful, but because you know people will try and use it to shame him anyway, and you can’t banish the shadows looming in his past, but you can help him stand in a spotlight of his own choosing, where people can’t easily see those shadows amid the glare of his own highlighted role and mantle and self.

And its not always easy, raising this kid, because you WANT that blight on his personal history to be gone, for HIS sake, so you focus maybe more than you should on the stuff you CAN relate to, even though its not always the reason for his latest nightmare. And sometimes he’s bound to resent that, he’s going to want to yell because you’re saying you understand and you honestly don’t, you truly never will, and you’re going to fight about that and its going to hurt but its not because there’s anything wrong with either of you, or either of you are bad people.

And you’re bound to be overprotective, almost paranoid about his safety, always looking for the monster lurking in the dark for him, because that monster is REAL, you’ve already met it, you know its name, and its not paranoia when you know exactly what it is you’re afraid of and why. And he’s going to bristle at this, and its going to chafe, because you taught him well, you prepared him just as well as you prepared yourself, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be to face that monster when it comes back, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less afraid of what that will do to him no matter how ready he is, not when you were the one to see what it did to him, what it wanted to do to him, that first time.

And you’ll be so preoccupied focusing on the monster, the Big Threat, the DANGER, that you forget sometimes about the other ways you and he are different. About all the other things he’s lost or had taken from him and that the monster isn’t the only one whose ever tried to put him in a box or confine him to the limits of someone else’s choices. So sometimes you fuck up, you think he’s being unreasonable or reckless when really he’s just trying to say its worth it to risk it all sometimes just to have a CHOICE, because the very act of having that choice, even the freedom to make the WRONG choice, is so much more precious and valuable to him than will ever make sense to someone who has had so many more choices respected and allowed and allotted in life.

But as long as you remember to rein yourself in after these times, as long as you never try and shirk the burden and responsibility you willingly took on when you willingly took him in, you never forget that that was YOUR choice, and that means the onus will always be on you to stop, take a breath, and try and see things from his shoes, be the one to try and bridge the gap in your life experiences and reach across the aisle instead of impatiently waiting for him to adapt and change and stretch himself to accommodate you and the choices and life and expectations you’re used to....as long as you do that, he’ll be able to look at THAT. And see that its not because you’ve just stopped caring what he wants at some point, so he’ll forgive you even when his friends don’t understand it, can’t make sense of why he puts up with stuff they never would, because they’ve never had that monster hiding in their shadow and don’t see it in his because he’s not quite ready to point it out to them yet, draw their attention to it yet. He’s still trying to become HIMSELF clearly enough that he can face it head on and look at it and then look back at himself and see without a doubt that the two are not the same.

And when you take in more kids eventually, for other reasons that are different but no less important, there are going to be problems here too. Maybe some of them think you favor your eldest, care more about him or are more worried about him when its really just that there’s something specifically TO be worried about, to keep an eye out for and always be wary might be lurking in the dark. Maybe when the truth finally comes to light, there are hurt feelings and resentment because you’re supposed to be a family, you should have trusted them with this, and it’ll take time to impress upon them that it was never that you WEREN’T a family, never that they weren’t trusted or confided in by their brother because they didn’t matter, but rather it was just because part of this monster in his past is ALSO his family, whether he wants it to be or not, and that’s CONFUSING and its hard to face and not something he WANTS to face and so maybe it just was easier, HAPPIER, to try and pretend it wasn’t there or didn’t matter for as long as he could because deep down he always knew it’d come back and there’d be an After that he had to adapt to all over again anyway, so at least he wanted to try and make the most of the Before. And maybe that’ll be a mistake, and maybe it won’t be, but what it will be is HUMAN. RELATABLE. REAL.

And 100% not anything that anyone in this family is to blame for, or unreasonable for, or because anyone loves or cherishes anyone else more than the rest.

And bing, bang, boom, you’ve just cleaned up a WHOLE mess of junk, strengthened and clarified several core premises and characterizations and seeded entire fields of potential conflict of all types, interpersonal and story-wise and everything in between.

All with ONE. SINGLE. STORY.

And no brain cells had to be harmed in the reading of it.

But nah.

*looks at how it played out in canon*

Sure.

That’s much better.

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battlestar-royco · 4 years

Photo

here is part 2 of my sci fi recs masterlist! again, i could’ve gone on with even more recs but i decided to draw the line here. this set for the most part errs on the darker side, thematically, visually, conceptually etc. i personally find it super thought-provoking and intriguing but that’s just me. i highly recommend reading the tw under the cut if you’re thinking of watching, especially the matrix and space gothic slides. please view at your discretion <3

part 1/2

If you like WLW (um idk why I only made this slide based on identity; it just kinda happened lmao but I think it works):

Siren: (tw: parent loss, grief, thalassophobia) a mermaid surfaces in a cove town looking for her lost sister. Polyamorous relationship between a man, a black/indigenous woman, and the mermaid!!!! Environmentalism! As a person who has thalassophobia, I didn’t find this too hard to watch. There aren’t that many underwater scenes, thankfully.

Black Mirror: San Junipero: (tw: grief, but otherwise none that I recall; it’s pretty lighthearted) two women meet in a beach resort in the 80s and fall in love. Interracial wlw!

Orphan Black: (tw: suicide, infertility, rape implication, VB, language, drug use) a woman realizes she is one of several clones and uncovers an elaborate corporate conspiracy. This is one of my personal favorites with great rep of complex women of all ages and bodily autonomy. Several central queer characters and a black male secondary character!

Starfish: (tw: grief, a few jump scares and brief monstrous imagery, blood) after the death of her best friend, a young woman breaks into the deceased’s apartment and discovers a chain of music tapes that could save the world. Weird, subtle, and experimental. Not to sound like a surfer but you kinda have to allow yourself to be in the vibe. The main character and her friend were definitely a thing imo.

Annihilation: (tw: body horror, VB, disturbing imagery) a team of women scientists explore an anomaly that rapidly mutates genes. There are canonical and coded wlw and multiple (light-skinned) POC in this but the rep is short-lived. I put it on because although it should’ve been more ambitious with the casting, I think it breaks *some* ground for Hollywood sci fi with the all-woman team and more than one WOC. Wack ending though.

Mad Max: Fury Road: (tw: rape implication, violence) I think everyone knows about this one but: in the apocalypse, a woman breaks 4 younger women out of a harem. A badass car chase across the desert ensues. A bit light on plot/worldbuilding, but sooooo cool-looking and very thematic!!!!

If you liked STRANGER THINGS:

It: (tw: VB) don’t actually watch this lmao I’m serious. It’s really stupid, and not in a funny way. But I do think Stranger Things was inspired by this story overall. The modern It films are better but they’re also really kjslsklskls stupid? Stephen King in general is obsolete imo.

The Thing: (tw: VB) an alien that can take the form of others wreaks havoc on a scientific facility in Antarctica. It’s dark and vibey, but I feel like it’s just Alien in Antarctica with truly terrible special effects tbh?? Others feel differently. It’s also classified as sci fi/horror, so stay away if you’re easily scared! Not too good on representation.

Super 8: (tw: some language) a group of preteens witnesses an alien-caused train crash as they’re filming a home movie. Not diverse but I definitely think it inspired a lot of sci fi for the 2010s, ESPECIALLY Stranger Things. Not too scary either!

ET: (tw: it’s been a really long time since I watched so I don’t remember but it’s rated PG) I think everyone knows what this is about!

Alien: (tw: VB) truckers in space discover a deadly evolving alien. One of my favorite movies of all time! I love the aesthetic and the mood and worldbuilding so much. Ellen Ripley is one of the first Final Girls in the horror genre. I personally found this more of a sci fi than a horror movie but I’d say stay away if you’re nervous!!

Terminator: (tw: VB) a deadly android is sent to kill a woman who’s destined to birth the man who saves the world. Terminator 2 is way better imo because it centers on Sarah rather than the dudes saving her and trying to kill her. But it’s still worth a watch, you know, for the culture.

If you liked CONTAGION:

War of the Worlds: (tw: blood) pretty straightforward aliens come to Earth to take over. Sorry to rec another T*m Cruise movie but I really like the alien design and the apocalypsey feel of this one. Baby Dakota Fanning is in it too!

Falling Skies: (tw: VB, body horror, rape) alien invasion yada yada but the alien lore gets more interesting as it goes on. It’s kind of cheesy and yeah maybe I did discover it by looking up the iCarly boyfriend (and what about it??) but it’s nice to have on in the downtime. An Asian woman co-stars.

Knowing: (tw: blood) school students unearth a time capsule that contains a sheet from a girl who predicted all the tragic world events between 1959-2009. This is NOT a good movie but it’s SO hilarious to me because of the acting and contrivances. Fun to group-watch!!!!

10 Cloverfield Lane: (tw: VB, emotional abuse) a woman wakes up in a bunker to a captor who tells her that the world has fallen to alien apocalypse. I think this movie elevates the original Cloverfield in pretty much every way. Again, super tense and moody. The conflict revolves around whether or not the captor is being truthful.

Train to Busan: (tw: extreme VB and disturbing imagery) a man and his daughter are on a train when a zombie hops on at the last minute. It’s Korean with an all-Asian cast; Choi Woo-shik co-stars. I definitely wouldn’t watch if you’re scared of blood and gore. It’s very gross and violent.

12 Monkeys: (tw: ableism, violence) a man from the 2030s is sent back to the 1990s to prevent the plague that will end the world. I think the aesthetics of this are really cool but otherwise it’s not a favorite. But I think it appeals to people who like apocalypse and time travel stuff!

If you liked THE MATRIX:

Strange Days: (tw: rape, sex, nudity, VB, racism, police brutality) memories can be saved to hard-drives and sold on the black market for exorbitant prices. Very problematic and triggering presentation of rape, but young Angela Basset stars and there’s a condemnation of police brutality that’s still relevant 20+ years after its release.

Upgrade: (tw: ableism, VB, fridging) a disabled man installs an AI in his spine to help him move and investigate the murder of his wife. The premise is glaringly ableist and I feel weird even recommending it tbh but it’s got great visuals and a few good twists.

Altered Carbon: (tw: VB, weird interracial body switching, uhhh I haven’t finished this one IDK) in a society where human bodies are interchangeable, a man wakes up in a new body after 300 years of his mind being dormant. A Latina woman co-stars, two Asian characters in a subplot, a few other POC here and there as well. I think season 2 stars a black man.

eXistenZ: (tw: VB, anti-Asian racism, general weirdness? IDK it’s hard to describe. There are guns made out of bones and weirdly sexual visuals.) after someone tries to assassinate her, a video game designer and her bodyguard must play through her virtual reality game in order to save the only copy of the game.

Minority Report: (tw: VB, eye removal/insertion) all crimes are predicted and criminals reported before they are committed. The main character is preemptively accused of murder. This one is really white but it was one of the first movies that got me into sci fi. Early 2000s Colin Farrell <3.

If you liked WESTWORLD:

Humans: (tw: uncanny valley, objectification) androids are household helpers and public assistants throughout Britain until one day they start developing consciences. It hits a lot of the themes of Westworld without all the unnecessary pretentiousness, “edginess,” and “grittiness,” and it stars Gemma Chan and Colin Morgan!!

Blade Runner 2049: (^) an android is ordered to find and kill a human/android hybrid. It’s not without its issues but it’s one of my favorite movies of all time, right up there with Alien. So beautiful, so thematic, so thought-provoking (to me, anyway. I know a lot of people thought it was way too slow).

Ex Machina: (^) a man is invited to a private estate to help test the intelligence of an android. It’s kind of predictable imo but you know Oscar Isaac and Sonoya Mizuno are in it so we have to stan, and so is Domhnall Gleeson, for the SW fans! I like how isolated and quiet it feels.

I Am Mother: (tw: blood, gaslighting) after an extinction event, a young woman is raised by a lone android in a human repopulation facility until one day a woman knocks. It starts off slow and a bit generic, but I’m obsessed with the 2nd and 3rd acts of this movie---good acting, dialogue, and fantastic visuals. It has that same isolated feel as Ex Machina with only three characters, all of which are women/woman-coded!!!

If you liked ALIEN (space gothic):

Battlestar Galactica (2004-2008 reboot): (tw: genocide, war, colonization, VB, uncanny valley, rape, infidelity) space opera that follows humanity as it fights the ever-evolving and powerful enemy of their own creation: androids named Cylons. Um? I L O V E THIS SHOW SO MUCH and I truly do think it’s everything sci fi should be. There is a really unfortunate Miss Saigon-esque romance plot in season 1 and a lazily-written love triangle involving a black woman in season 3, but otherwise it’s one of my all-time favorites and I highly recommend. It’ll spin your mind and tug your heartstrings for years.

Black Mirror: Men Against Fire: (tw: genocide, war, nudity) soldiers in the near future protect citizens from mutant zombies, but one soldier starts experiencing strange hallucinations in the field. This is such an underrated Black Mirror episode starring a black man. There’s brief objectification of a black woman but it’s very anti-military and it has an interesting sterile aesthetic that reminds me of Alien.

High Life: (tw: rape, black holes/space anxiety, very disturbing) prisoners are given the option to join a space expedition and serve as experimental subjects en route to a black hole. Please please stay away if you are triggered by sexual violence of any kind. There’s almost no physical violence in this movie but it’s psychologically haunting imo.

The Faculty: (tw; VB, drug use) high schoolers discover their teachers are being possessed by an invading alien race. I LOVE THIS MOVIE LMFAOOOO. The cast is SO wild---Elijah Wood, John Oliver, Usher, Salma Hayek, Josh Hartnett??? And I’m probably forgetting more. The combination of the cast, the terrible dialogue, and shitty special effects is PEAK comedy imo. But bear in mind it’s bloody!!

Prometheus: (tw: body horror, VB, uncanny valley) a crew of scientists heads on a deep space mission to find the aliens who created the human race. A prequel to Alien, but I kind of view it as its own thing. Despite the plot holes, I love this movie too! It was one of my sci fi gateways and the visuals are stunning. It’s pretty gory though so if that’s not your thing stay away.

Life: (tw: extreme VB) a lesser Alien, but it provides all the space gothic tropes (jokey crew, shots of space, really pretty spaceship, everyone dies, creepy alien) with a well-known cast---Gyllenhaal, Reynolds, etc.

The X Files: (tw: a few episodes contain 90s racism, sexism, queerphobia etc but you can skip them) a lot of people have watched this so I barely have to explain, but it’s one of my favorites. Two FBI agents investigate multiple aliens and get involved in government conspiracies along the way. A good gateway!

A Quiet Place: (tw: child loss, VB, tension) I think most people know what this is about too. Alien apocalypse with aliens that hunt by sound. The daughter in the family is deaf, and so is the actress who portrays her. The representation of deafness was critically acclaimed.

#maxine talks sci fi #movie recs #maxine did you read/watch

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