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hollowed-theory-hall · 5 months

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Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and what makes a psychopath

First of all, I'm not a licensed therapist or psychiatrist, but I love reading things online. I also love analyzing fictional characters, so why not do both and show why Albus Dumbledore shows just as many signs of ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) as Tom Marvolo Riddle and that both men are much more similar than they'd like to think.

Whats ASPD?

ASPD, also known as Antisocial Personality Disorder, is a personality disorder. This disorder encapsulates both what people commonly call "psychopaths" and "sociopaths" and is actually mischaracterized often. It is a real mental disorder and not all real-life people with ASPD are dangerous to be around like the fictional ones, some live completely lawful murder-free lives. This post is mostly an interesting thought exercise and not meant to be a diagnostic tool or to be seen as how all people with ASPD are.

So, personality disorders refer to mental disorders that affect thought processes, personality, and how a person interacts with the world as a whole. ASPD, as its name suggests, focuses on social interactions. It is categorized by a lack of empathy, a penchant for lying, irresponsibility, and disregard for other's rights or feelings along with a lack of remorse.

All in all it sounds a lot like what we'd associate with Tom Riddle, but Dumbledore fits just as many of the symptoms required for an ASPD diagnosis.

How is ASPD diagnosed?

The DSM-5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) categorizes and describes how to diagnose all clinically recognized mental illnesses. The DSM-5's diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

Disregarding the law, indicated by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain or pleasure

Acting impulsively or not planning ahead

Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

2. The individual is at least age 18 years.

3. Evidence of conduct disorder typically with onset before age 15 years.

4. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

So let's look at the boys, shall we?

This isn't meant to be a professional diagnosis, I just want to show how similar Tom and Dumbledore are in certain ways neither of them would like to confess and for that, we'll look through the behavior patterns used to diagnose ASPD.

1. Disregarding the law, indicated by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

With Tom, this category of behavior is easy to tick off. He murdered multiple people. He led a terrorist organization. He cast illegal dark magic, including all three unforgivables, I don't think anyone would argue Tom didn't do many illegal things.

The thing is, Dumbledore disregards the law just as much, if, in different ways.

The Order of the Phoenix that he leads is an illegal paramilitary group separate from the government that is kept a secret from law enforcement at large and the general population, as shown in the news article leading to the publication of Rita's book:

WHAT was the real purpose of the secret organization known as the Order of the Phoenix?

(DH, 24)

This organization is illegal in their world. Additionally, Dumbledore shows no care for the ministry or its laws once it suits him. (It's not necessarily a bad thing because the Ministry of Magic sucks, but still). He showed as much in all his interactions with people like Fudge and Umbridge, going as far as actually resisting arrest in OotP after the DA was discovered. (again, he is right for doing it, but it still shows a disregard for their law, which I personally consider healthy because it's the Ministry of Magic)

And then, of course, there was Dumbledore's quest for muggle domination with Grindelwald:

Your point about Wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES’ OWN GOOD—this, I think is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and yes, that power gives up the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counterarguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

(DH, 309)

None of which sounds awfully legal. His intentions back then were to rule over the muggles and take control by force if they had to. Showing that even in his youth, Dumbledore didn't have much consideration for the law.

2. Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain or pleasure

There are many examples of Tom lying for various reasons, I picked out one of them to exibit here:

Riddle laughed his high laugh again. “It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed

(CoS, 288)

But Tom lies a lot. Both at school, at the orphanage, and about his identity. He lies to his followers often and I'd say he also lies to himself, but that's another matter. This category literally mentions using an alias and that is one of the things Tom (or, well, Voldemort) is well known for.

As for Dumbledore, he lies and conceals just as much. Abeforth said he was always this way:

“I can’t leave,” said Harry. “I’ve got a job—” “Give it to someone else!” “I can’t. It’s got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all—” “Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?” Harry wanted with all his heart to say “Yes,” but somehow the simple word would not rise to his lips, Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking. “I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother’s knee. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus. . . he was a natural.”

(DH, 477-478)

The "greater good" was all for the sake of appearances, it was a deception — a lie to make muggle domination more palatable for the general population. He lied in his position as headmaster and in his relationship with Harry:

Not telling Harry about, well, anything, and justifying it to himself by telling himself Harry would be better off not knowing, even when it isn't necessarily true.

Lying to Lockhart to get him in a dangerous position Dumbledore knew he was unfit for.

Lying about Lupin being a werewolf (this one is a lie that does have a good intention behind it, but I count it here anyway)

Lying about the petrifications in 2nd year. Dumbledore was at the school last time the Chamber opened and knew what was going on, still waited for Harry to act.

Same in 1st year. Harry himself says he's pretty sure Dumbledore always knew about Quirrell but wanted to give Harry the chance to face Voldemort.

Lying to Harry about Malfoy not being anything to worry about, even though he knows what's going on. But instead of agreeing there is concern and it is being dealt with he just tries to gaslight Harry.

I can go on, but I think the gist is clear.

3. Acting impulsively or not planning ahead

They are actually both planners when they want to be. But they can also be impulsive on occasion, if more rare for them. We'll consider this a symptom they don't have, mostly.

4. Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Now, Tom can get provoked and react aggressively, although, I won't call it easily. Tom actually avoids unnecessary bloodshed when possible:

He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away. . . . Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH, 295)

I mean, he wouldn't have been prefect and head boy if he constantly got into fights. So I feel safe in saying Tom didn't get into fights often and much of the behavior we see towards his followers is fueled by both general frustration and his feeling they deserve this punishment. These punishments are planned, they aren't often impulsive and in the moment of rage (and when they are, it's only when Harry Potter is involved).

Dumbledore is quite the same. He is capable of getting angry when provoked, but avoids violence he doesn't see as necessary.

We'll consider this a symptom they don't have.

5. Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

So many times... for both of them...

For Tom:

He clearly doesn't care about most of his Death Eaters, he wouldn't mind if they died and he endangered them often.

He also endagers himself just as much, if not more; by mutilating himself to create Horcruxes.

And by charging into battle himself often.

For Dumbledore:

Dumbledore endangers the Order's safety repeatedly. Yes, they made the decision to join, but he is still the one sending Hagrid to negotiate with the giants and Remus to talk to the werewolves. He is still the one who sends them towards danger and is willing to risk them.

Dumbledore endangers Snape, he manipulates him into the position of a spy and wilfully disregards Snape's safety.

Harry. Just everything, since he placed him on the doorstep of the Dursleys Dumbledore has willfully endangered Harry — from the abuse to setting Harry up to face the various yearly adventures every year.

Dumbledore tells Harry in HBP he takes his student's safety seriously, but he really doesn't: he knows about the Chamber, but still waits for Harry to resolve it, even when students are getting petrified. He knew Malfoy was planning something in HBP, but allowed him to continue with his ploys that sent Katie Bell to St. Mongos for months. There are more, but I think you get the gist.

Dumbledore also endangers himself quite carelessly from how he picked up the ring, his willingness to go into battle, his drinking of the potion in the locket's cave, and his willingness to die for his own plans.

6. Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

We actually see both of them are capable of holding jobs for a long time (Dumbledore at Hogwarts and Tom at Borgin and Burkes) and even when Tom leaves Borgin and Burkes, he has a plan for his leave.

Both show irresponsibility in other ways. Tom allows his Death Eaters to wreak havoc in the ministry in book 7 while he's off chasing the Elder Wand, Dumbledore repeatedly shows how unconcerned he is with the education of the students at Hogwarts (his actual job) by hiring people like Lockhart, who he knew to be a fraud and allowing Umbridge to be hired (he had the Order, he could've convinced the real Mad-Eye Moody to come teach, or even Tonks, but no, he needed to teach Harry a lesson about the ministry so he allowed Umbridge into the school).

7. Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

Well, not feeling remorse is kind of a big part of Tom's character, isn't it:

“It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .” “You dare—?” said Voldemort again.

(DH, 625)

That he isn't sorry for what he did at any point to anyone. Yes, he shows affection to Nagini and Bellatrix, but he takes occasional joy in emberessing Bellatrix.

He truly isn't sorry because he doesn't care. He is indifferent to the suffering of most.

The thing is, Dumbledore is the same.

He shows complete cold disregard for Lockhart's situation after his loss of memories, rationalizing it as "deserved".

As I mentioned, he doesn't care when Katie gets cursed by the necklace or when students get petrified in 2nd year. He allows it to happen because it isn't happening to anyone important.

Dumbledore is hellbent on killing Tom, on utterly destroying him, this is weird for a person who supposedly believes in second chances, especially a person who let Gallert Grindlewald live. Grindelwald had a much higher death count than Voldemort. He killed and hurt way more people, but Dumbledore likes him, so he rationalizes killing Tom, but not Gallert.

He disregards Harry's pain and hurt over Sirius's death:

“Oh yes, you do,” said Dumbledore, still more calmly. “You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.” “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!” Harry roared. “YOU — STANDING THERE — YOU —”

(OotP, 824)

He speaks calmly and coldly throughout the whole exchange, just waiting for Harry to calm down enough so he can tell him about the prophecy. Dumbledore doesn't empathize with Harry's pain.

He disregards Harry's abuse:

“Five years ago, then,” continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, “you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

(OotP, 837)

He says he knew Harry to be mistreated (and starved!) since 1st year, but he does nothing until 6th year when he needs Harry. No, instead he rationalizes Harry's abuse, it's necessary for the plan, so Harry won't be spoiled, it's for the greater good.

And, of course, he raised Harry like a "pig to slaughter":

“We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength,” said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. “Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.” Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified. “You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?” “Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?” “Lately, only those whom I could not save,” said Snape. He stood up. “You have used me.” “Meaning?” “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—” “But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!”

(DH, 580)

I think it's telling how Severus Snape, who despises the concept of Harry, reacts more sympatheticly and emotionally to Harry's death than Dumbledore. Dumbledore is cold and uncaring, he just calls Snape out for caring as if Snape is in the wrong for reacting the way any human would. Because Dumbledore is cold enough to rationalize any sacrifice he considers necessary.

The last quote was also about how Dumbledore used Severus. He manipulated Snape into oaths and bonds to spy for him and protect Harry. Twisted Snape's guilt to get some use out of him. And for Dumbledore, it was justified, it was for the greater good.

Results

So, Tom got 5/7 for ASPD symptoms, and Dumbledore got 5/7. And you only need 3 for a diagnosis, so, yeah...

What I wanted to talk about and get to with all of this is Tom and Dumbledore's similarities that both of them hate to see. Their despise for each other is partly fueled by it, I think. They look at each other and see some of their own traits mirrored back, but arranged all wrong.

Dumbledore sees the worst version of himself in Tom Riddle and Tom sees their similarities and Dumbledore's hypocrisy to those similarities and hates him for that.

They were both the most brilliant wizards of their respective generations, top students at Hogwarts, when they graduated, Dumbledore planned to go on a tour of the world to study magic abroad like Tom did. They both received offers for ministry positions, which they both declined because they wanted to be professors at Hogwarts. They both lead paramilitary organizations (Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix) and they are both willing to make sacrifices in the quest for their goals.

Tom is willing to kill and tear himself up to create Horcruxes because it's necessary in his eyes:

Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH, 295)

Dumbledore is willing to sacrifice Harry and himself in the quest for the "greater good":

We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

(DH, 309)

I just find the fact that both of them show psychopathic traits in equal measure in similar ways super interesting. This distorted mirror is so fascinating, especially because the respective characters would despise being compared to each other.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #hp meta #harry potter meta #hollowedtheory #dumbledore #albus dumbledore #tom riddle #lord voldemrot #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #aspd #i guess

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sinvilles · 3 months

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more thoughts: Clay and his alcoholism

to reiterate my first point from the last post:

I'm not concerned with whether any character in the series was "redeemed" or not. the show was cut in half, and so was every character arc. hence we end up with a show that got cancelled when all the main characters were at their lowest point of development in the narrative, and all the surrounding characters getting half developed to a point of mild satisfaction.

I don't think Clay is misunderstood in this fandom so much as misinterpreted. namely the overt focus on his abusive incidents and qualities drowns out any analysis about how and why they emerged in the first place. and the insistence on reading him through this over the top evil villain tunnel vision- Clay is an antagonist, in that his actions are in opposition to Orel's, but he's not a villain. I actually don't think there are designated villains in Moral Orel, just a lot of damaged, self destructive people who rationalize, deny and repress the harm they cause. humans, as Dino called them.

put succinctly, I think we often forget that Clay has a disease, that it is life-threatening, and no one around him is educated enough to see the warning signs- because drinking culture is so ingrained in their social circle that there's nothing to do but repress whatever harm it causes.

earlier on in the show, his drinking is less pronounced. This is not to say he didn't have a problem, because its clear from Help that his binging started early in their marriage. I do think there is a gradual descent beginning with him drinking the boozy milk in church, slowly until Bloberta calls him a "self-destructive alcoholic", and then a rapid plummet after he walks out on Christmas eve. This feels in line with a relapse.

I went back and forth on whether Clay had actually never touched a drop of booze before he met Bloberta- he lied about his father being dead, he must have been shitting her about "isnt drinking a sin?" because even he knows that his mother used to drink- and also the way he keeps on looks like someone who tried to stop before and that this is his relapse. but then he goes on about his "new found superpowers" and thanking Bloberta for helping him come out of his shell so it definitely seems like alcohol is providing him with a burst of sociability and extraversion that he otherwise didn't think he had in him before.

Clay genuinely believed that drinking was making him a better person. This is reinforced by what others say to him: by Bloberta saying "it makes us better people", or Danielle telling him, "you're better when you drink." The word "better" is used directly in his rant- he mimes the alcohol telling him: "I'll make things better, dear! drink me, put me inside you!" in the following dialogue, its very clear that he associates drinking with his relationship with Bloberta, and women in general. And also that the sex he has had with Bloberta might be less than consensual and not pleasurable for him. More on this later.

That's the rub of alcohol. You drink a little to feel good, and you do it until that amount doesn't do it for you anymore, and the tolerance builds up until you need to drink enough to black out, and being black out drunk is where your inhibitions completely disappear. Black out drunk means you might whip out your dick and piss on someone's computer- knew a guy who did it- does this mean you hate that person, or computers? no, just that your senses were no longer functioning to keep you from carrying out every insane impulse you have.

alcohol addiction isn't a moral failing, its a disease. Clay's true moral failing was that he wasn't responsible or mature enough to be left alone with his son in the wilderness. He wasn't a horrifyingly inept father in the past episodes, mostly just spanking Orel before asking him why he (impregnated women in their sleep/sold his piss for profit/did crack/stole his booze/etc). Then he imparts an entirely deranged moral because he feels like he needs to explain to Orel some justification for his punishment, which he might be doing to bond with him the way he used to bond with his mother.

Clay was not properly fathered (or mothered, for that matter), and is not equipped to be a good father. His version of fathering Orel is an attempt to undo the neglect of his boyhood- he is physically present in his life, "a boy needs his father" so he says, he converses with him- while he did spank him, he's never slapped him or battered him, which is interesting to note because Arthur only ever hit Clay in the face. The actual, major fuck up in his life happened when he was black out drunk.

Its notable that after the incident we get an episode of him reflecting on the death of his mother, and how he never got to go on that coveted hunting trip with his dad. the road to hell truly is paved with good intentions.

but he gets worse. He starts ditching work to drink. he ditches church to drink. he's calling up his situationship midday to drink. he has ditched the shot glass and is drinking his brown booze straight from the bottle now. this is ruining his friendships, his professional connections, even the barmaid hates him now. Because he can't reconcile his self-image with what he did to his child, his only narcissistic impulse is to deny it happened, lie about it, to himself, to the doctor, to everyone around him. Then when he can't deny it happened, he hides from his son out of shame, and avoids talking to him for 6 months, only speaking to him again when it becomes clear that his son has publicly sided against him. Right after that he emotionally regresses and becomes susceptible to the manipulations of a seemingly older woman. Clay is in the middle of a mental breakdown.

then the show gets cancelled.

of course they killed it. why would adult swim want to air a show where a character suffers from a realistic depiction of alcoholic dependency? one where a guy pisses his bed because he's too drunk to get up at night, one where a guy almost kills his child (not played for laughs)? the audience doesn't want to be told that they need to kick their habit. they'd prefer a mad scientist who can just grow himself a new liver any time he needs to replace it. Or a cartoon crow who gets into hi-LAR-ious out-RAG-eous hijinks because of his drinking. do you see what I'm saying?

I mean, what if Clay stopped drinking?

("Yeah, what if?")

there's this thing called withdrawal, where if your body is at the point where it is dependent on alcohol for stability, alcohol every day every hour, all year long- like Clay is- going cold turkey can actually end your life.

a caricatured depiction of withdrawal can be seen happening to Orel in the episode "Grounded"- he isn't just "going crazy", Church is an addiction that he needs to feed to feel normal. It's a very silly take on it, but the insatiable cravings, sweats, nausea, shakes, clamminess and the feelings of unmanageable suicidality are the same.

Other effects of alcoholic withdrawal include (not in order) seizures, hallucinations, acute anxiety, mood swings, tachycardia, and in worst cases delirium tremens. with the way Clay drinks he would definitely end up with pretty bad DTs.

And it goes on for at least 6 months.

when this happens, a person needs to be hospitalized. and knowing the medical staff at Martin Luther Hospital, I can understand why he would want to avoid it. I don't think he has the willpower to wait past shaky hands before he reaches for his next drink.

another part of overcoming an addiction to alcohol is community support- support from family, friends, spouses. this was described by Kabi Nagata in one of her memoirs as a kind of "foothold in the world" to keep the patient stable and focused. but as of the start of season 2, Bloberta doesn't care. Clay perceives Bloberta as not being on his side- if your own wife isn't on your side, what hope do you have needing her when you're vulnerable? fuck, even Clay isn't on his own side.

On Bloberta- I get the feeling she might have supported him to stop drinking earlier in their marriage. Or at least to get his drinking under control (as in, not publicly visible). Maybe before Shapey was born? but when he started again, she was through being "on his side" so to speak.

(and I do think his drinking has some correlation to his sex life. according to Bloberta, "when does he ever remember?" and based on what little Orel said in that one promo, Clay is never sober enough to be on top, like he so insists upon being the "right" way. in his rant Clay graphically describes PIV sex with open revulsion. call me crazy, but I kind of get the feeling he's gay.)

but the real reason I think he was triggered to drinking to excess, is Danielle.

its pretty clear from the get-go of season 2 is that Clay was carrying on an affair with him, at least an emotional one if not a physical one. and I can imagine that his attraction to Danielle unsettles him, to the point that he needs to reinforce his concept of masculinity with the markers of it; hiding in his little man cave and collecting hunting equipment- and drinking hard liquor to excess. Everything he accuses Orel of during the hunting trip- being sensitive, soft, a sissy- is just something he projects because he's insecure about it in himself. and the root of it is his fear of loving Danielle.

despite the humiliation he subjected himself to in Honor- him admitting that he loved Danielle was a brief moment of growth. albeit closeted, fearful, it was a revelation of what was really in him. closest comparable moment of honesty in the series was him admitting to Orel that his identity as a father is central to who he is, and without it he would be nothing. and then there's his academy award winning drunken rants.

where could his character have gone... I think leaving his family, aka Orel, aka forgoing his identity as a father, might be the best he could do. that and getting sober. but there's no getting sober without leaving his family, because he associates his wife with drinking. and there's no getting sober if you don't have a friend left in the world. it was sad to see him still with her in the final scene because they both really could've thrived in divorce.

#thoughts of feelings

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whitedarkmoonflower · 9 months

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Feeling you 3

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this is the last part and as I already wrote it got unexpectedly long, but I'm posting it as it is just as you voted. I really got so caugh up in this story 😅 I hope you'll enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT 18+

Word Count: 7,5 K

Part 1, Part 2

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

You woke up with a throbbing headache, having struggled to find sleep until the early hours. The walls of the old house seemed as thin as parchment. Every sound penetrated your room – the laughter, the chatter, the clinking of mugs, and the crackling of the fireplace, all blending into a cacophony that grated your weary senses.

But it was the faint noises from the floor above that truly disrupted your rest, igniting your imagination. You briefly wondered if Eanflaed had deliberately placed your bed right beneath the room where Sihtric and Ealfwin spent the night. The thought was quickly dismissed, but couldn't you hear his voice through the thin ceiling? The blurred sounds of the muffled moans and passionate groans seemed to reach you even as you tried to block them out, covering your ears with your hands and burying your head under the pillow. It was almost dawn when your exhausted mind finally succumbed to a restless sleep, only to be woken soon after by the bustling sounds of morning chores.

"You've certainly looked better," Eanflaed remarked as she noticed you stepping into the main room, wincing when the bright daylight hit your red and swollen eyes.

"By the saints, I'd almost forgotten how thin these walls are," you grumbled, sinking into a seat and propping your aching head up with your hands. "I've ruined everything, have I not?" You added after a pause.

"Hold on, don't lose hope so quickly. Regarding Sigefried - you haven't acted in a manner unbecoming of a modest maiden. It was he who overstepped. If you wish, I can speak with him. But the real question is, do you truly want that?" Eanflaed said, a chuckle in her voice as she placed a plate of bread and cheese before you.

Her offer didn't surprise you. This was typical of Eanflaed, always resilient. Despite the hardships life had thrown at her, including losing her husband and being left to raise three young children while running an alehouse, she never faltered. Her approach was always pragmatic and thoughtful. She had a unique ability to balance her steadfast resilience with a protective nature towards her friends and the girls at the alehouse. They were like family to her, each deserving of her unwavering support.

But as much as you wished Eanflaed could solve this problem for you, you realised it was something you needed to address yourself.

"You are right, but I need to handle this myself. I have to speak with him," you said, nibbling on a piece of bread, lost in thought.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" Eanflaed's question caught you off guard, and you looked up to meet her probing eyes.

"Of course, I want it," you asserted, a hint of frustration in your tone. "I turned away a good man for... for a fleeting dream, for... nothing."

"Listen," Eanflaed said, sitting beside you and taking your hands in hers. "Who are you trying to convince? I've known you long enough. This isn't you. I know you're hurting now, but think carefully. If you accept Sigefried's proposal, it's a lifelong commitment. Don't make this choice out of hurt. You won't be able to bear it; your heart isn't made for such compromise, and I say that as a compliment.”

You gazed at Eanflaed in astonishment, trying to comprehend her words. The usually rational and sensible Eanflaed, who had often chided you for impulsively following your heart, was now advising you to reconsider what seemed like the most reasonable decision you had ever made.

It had been foolish to reject Sigefried. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by fleeting emotions and silly dreams, ignoring the stability and future that Sigefried offered. The thought of what you had almost thrown away for someone who didn’t even acknowledge your existence left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was time to face reality, and though the prospect of apologising to Sigefried was daunting, it was an unavoidable step unless you wanted to spend your life scrubbing mugs in the alehouse. If your fate was to be a whore in the disguise of a wife, you were ready to embrace it. At least you’ll be a modest and well-fed one.

With a gentle but firm motion, you freed your hands from Eanflaed’s hold and stood up from the table. “There's nothing left to think about. I had the whole night for that. I’ve made my decision.”

—--------------------------------------------------

"Look what I've got," Ealfwin announced, descending the stairs with a satisfied smile on her lips and dropping two golden rings onto the counter. Her smile widened as she watched them roll and clink across the wooden surface. Eanflaed's eyes widened in surprise.

"It was the strangest night of my life," Ealfwin laughed.

"What happened? It was that young Dane who took you upstairs, wasn't it? What did he want?" Eanflaed asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh, don't worry, it wasn't anything bad. He was so passionate, kissing me like a desperate starving man, right here at the table. But when we got upstairs and I started to undress, he suddenly told me he wasn't in the mood," Ealfwin explained, shrugging. "I was about to leave, but then he took off two of his rings and asked me to have a drink with him and stay the night. He said he didn't want to be alone."

"And then what happened?" Eanflaed probed, her curiosity evident.

"We just drank and talked. About life, the alehouse, all sorts of things. Then he asked for another pitcher of ale and told me to go to bed. I couldn't turn down such a generous offer. Just look at these rings – they're solid gold, and look at how thick they are."

"Yes, the rings are impressive. But what was he doing all this time?" Eanflaed inquired further.

"He just sat there, drinking. And this might sound odd," Ealfwin paused, licking her lips nervously before continuing, "but if I didn't know he was a Dane and one of Uhtred's fiercest warriors, I'd think he was crying."

"Crying?" Eanflaed's tone was filled with disbelief.

"Yes, crying. It was late already when I woke up to some odd noises, and there he was, still at the table, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as if he were sobbing," Ealfwin's voice dropped to a hushed tone, and she glanced around cautiously, as though worried about being overheard. "It must have been something else, perhaps I was still half-asleep. He's a Dane, after all, and just yesterday I heard Uhtred praising his prowess in battle. Such men don't cry, do they?"

"No, they usually don't," Eanflaed agreed, though her response came with a hint of hesitation as she slowly shook her head, seemingly lost in thought.

"Yeah, and by the time I woke up this morning, he was already gone," Ealfwin concluded, her gaze still fixed on the two gleaming gold rings resting on the counter. "I really need a new dress; this one's seen better days."

Eanflaed picked up the rings and slipped them into a small pouch at her waist. "I'll get these exchanged for money. Last night was really a good one. We should now have enough to restock for the winter, and I'm sure we can manage a few new dresses as well."

—-----------------------------------------------

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Eanflaed chuckled, glancing towards the door as it creaked open. It was still morning, edging towards noon, and she had only just finished cleaning the main room.

"I'm here to talk to Y/N, to offer congratulations on the engagement," slurred the young man leaning heavily against the door frame. Clearly drunk, he staggered towards Eanflaed and grabbed hold of the counter for support.

"What in the world?" Eanflaed blurted out, her stern gaze and furrowed brows fixed on the intruder. Her sharp retort was cut short as she recognized the young Dane from Uhtred’s company.

"Oh, I forgot to bring flowers. Isn't it customary to bring flowers for such occasions?" he mumbled, hiccupping, his clouded mismatched eyes boldly meeting Eanflaed's.

"What are you doing here?" Eanflaed demanded, eyeing him critically from head to toe.

Sihtric felt a sobering jolt from Eanflaed’s tone. Despite his drunken state, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. What was he doing here, indeed? He wasn't even sure how he had managed to find his way here in his current condition.

Compelled by the fear of encountering you again, he had stealthily slipped away under the cover of night, heading to the inn where Uhtred had secured rooms for them. There, he had joined the few remaining guests in their drinking. The ale had bolstered his courage, fueling his burning need for answers, and his legs had unwittingly led him here.

That brief moment the previous evening, when your eyes had met his, had unsettled him deeply. The surprise and pain etched on your face as you looked at him had caused him to nearly stumble and drop the girl he was holding. Why had you looked at him that way? Weren't you supposed to be happy and content, ready to start your new life without any place for his unrequited affection?

"I'm not sure," he mumbled, his momentary boldness fading into abashment.

"After what you did yesterday, you have the nerve to come here asking for her? You... you drunken fool," Eanflaed said, her voice rising in anger as she dropped the rag she was using to clean the counter. She advanced towards Sihtric, her smaller stature no match for her palpable fury. Sihtric instinctively began to retreat until he backed into a bench and clumsily sat down, trying to avoid tumbling over it, his warrior’s poise nowhere to be seen under Eanflaed’s fiery gaze.

"I don't know what tales you spun before leaving, but she waited for you all these long months. And just yesterday, she rejected a marriage proposal because of you. Do you grasp that, you fucking fool? She rejected Sigefried and ran off just to see you parade off with Ealfwin, ignoring her as if she were a complete stranger. And now you want to talk to her?" Eanflaed hurled her words at Sihtric with the force of thrown stones, growing louder as she jabbed her finger into Sihtric's chest.

"She did what?" Sihtric's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape as he stared at the angry small woman before him. Her words had sobered him like a bucket of cold water on his head and in that moment Sihtric wished for nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "By the gods, what a fool I am," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Leave now, or I'll call the town guards, and you can sober up in the sheriff's cell," Eanflaed threatened.

"Wait, please, let me explain," Sihtric pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I don’t want your excuses. Just leave! I won’t let you disrupt her life again. She might be reconciling with Sigefried as we speak..."

"I saw them! Yesterday, before coming here. I witnessed the proposal," Sihtric interjected, his voice rising in frustration. "I love her, I came back for her but I thought I stood no chance against him. I wanted to spare her the burden of remembering me. I never imagined she might still care."

"Oh, boy," Eanflaed sighed, her anger subsiding as she slumped onto the bench beside Sihtric. "That explains Ealfwin's odd night with you."

"What should I do?" There was such a despair in Sihtric’s voice that Eanflaed unwillingly felt sympathy with the boy. “Where is she? Please, I need to see her,” he pleaded.

"She's gone to speak with Sigefried," Eanflaed replied reluctantly, watching Sihtric's shoulders slump in defeat. After a moment, she added, "I’ll tell her you were here asking for her. But that’s all I’ll do. It’s up to her whether she wants to see you or not."

"Please, tell her I'll be at the White Goose inn, upstairs, last room on the left. I'll wait for her," Sihtric said, a hint of hope flickering in his voice.

—--------------------------------------------------

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," Sihtric said, taking a hesitant step back to let you into the room. A timid smile touched his lips. As you stepped inside, removing the hood of your cloak, your eyes took in the modest yet orderly room. Sihtric shut the door and faced you, his fingers nervously running through his hair while his gaze fell to his feet. "I... I..." he faltered.

"I honestly don't know why I'm here," you admitted, surprised at the calmness of your voice despite your heart pounding wildly in your chest. What were you doing here? You hadn't intended to come. When Eanflaed had conveyed to you Sihtric’s message, you knew instantly it wasn't a good idea, you knew it was only going to hurt and you had decided against it.

It's no use crying over spilled milk, you had told yourself as you headed towards the small street leading to your home. You rented a tiny attic room in an old, crooked house, owned by a landlady as aged and bent as the building itself. Evening was drawing near, and after last sleepless night, you longed for some rest before tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The word struck you like a bolt, a piercing realisation. Tomorrow was your wedding day. The cool autumn air filled your lungs, each season with its unique aroma, but autumn's – with its scents of rain, fallen leaves, and chimney smoke – was your favourite.

Faint, hazy memories of a warm fireplace in a spacious room and the comforting chatter of gathered people lingered at the edge of your consciousness, as you slowly wandered along the empty and quiet streets of the drowsy town. Your yearning for sleep had slowly vanished. Tonight, nobody awaited you at home, a fact that would change tomorrow. Everything would be different then. But for now, the night was yours – the last night of freedom, the last night you could choose to do whatever you wished. Slowly lifting your eyes, you found yourself staring in surprise at the sign of the White Goose inn, gently swaying in the breeze above.

You were unsure how you found yourself there, but there you were, almost dreamlike, extending your hand to push open the large wooden doors leading to the noisy, crowded main room. Pulling your cape further over your head, you moved unnoticed through the busy, half-drunk crowd, heading straight for the stairs.

“Last room on the left,” you murmured to yourself, repeating Eanflaed’s words. Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, resonating through you like a bizarre war drum. “What am I doing here?” you questioned yourself yet again, halting before the door. Nonetheless, your hand seemed to move on its own, lifted as if by an unseen force, and three loud knocks rang out.

You gasped in surprise as the door swung open almost instantly, cutting off the sound of your last knock. You were met by the deep, slightly startled gaze of two mismatched eyes.

Sihtric’s voice was as soft and melodic as you remembered. “At least that hasn’t changed,” you thought fleetingly, as you stepped inside, only for the sound of the door closing behind you, sharp like the snap of a trap, to jolt you back to the reality, the sheer absurdity of the situation you had just brought yourself into washing over you like a rainstorm.

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” you stammered, trying to edge past Sihtric in a quick movement back toward the door.

He hadn’t expected this. After spending hours and hours pacing his small room, he had finally lost all hope of you showing up. Muffled curses and groans kept rolling over his lips as the shadows lengthened with the setting sun, his arms alternating between clasping his head and hanging listlessly at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching, fingers raking through his hair or covering his face in frustration. The knock had taken him by surprise, standing by the door, rhythmically bumping his head against the wall, his elbows propped against it, fingers interlocked behind his head.

He had yanked the door open, fueled by frustration, only to be completely caught off guard by the sight of you standing there, your hand still raised from the last knock. Fighting the impulse to pinch himself, to verify that he wasn't dreaming, Sihtric watched you hesitantly stepping into the room. His gaze fell to the floor, while his mind scrambled for something coherent to say. Throughout the long hours of waiting, he had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, imagining all the things he wanted to say, just to find his mind empty as a blank sheet of parchment.

His gaze still fixed on his feet, Sihtric almost didn't notice your sudden dash for the door. You were close to escaping, your hand nearly grasping the handle, when he realised your intent to flee and instinctively reached out, catching your arm and turning you around. You attempted to pull away, struggling to free yourself from his grip, but in the rush, Sihtric made another step toward you, and suddenly, you found yourself pressed against the door, his towering figure looming over you.

“Please, don’t go,” Sihtric’s voice was deep and hoarse, a noticeable tremor running through it. His eyes finally met yours as he placed his hands on your shoulders, immediately feeling you tense up, panic and fear evident in your wide-open eyes. It was a look he recognized all too well, one he had seen too often, but never expected to be directed at him. Yet, there you were, staring back with a deepening darkness in your eyes and quickening breath.

"I’m sorry," he quickly stepped back, letting go of you and raising his hands as if in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry. I…I’m getting this all wrong, aren't I? Please, just don't go yet. Give me a moment," the pleading tone in his voice washed over you, but amidst your rising anxiety, you barely absorbed his words.

Averting your gaze and driven by instinctive fear, you reached behind your back, your hand frantically searching for the life-saving door handle. Your fingers finally found it, gripping it tightly, poised to push it down and open your path to escape as you looked back up at Sihtric and froze, surprised by the lost, sorrowful expression on his face, his large, expressive eyes shining with warm tenderness. There he was, the same insecure, alarmed boy, who had so trustfully followed you, squeezing your hand in his sweaty palm, his anxiety barely concealed.

"I won't hold you back. If you want to leave, you can," he stated, stepping further back, giving you ample space, as if to emphasise the truth in his words. His gaze remained intently on you, earnest and unwavering. "You are safe with me. I'll never hurt you, you know that? Never."

Your expression softened, and the fear in you slowly ebbed away. You let your arms fall to your sides, though your chest continued to rise and fall quickly as you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. Time seemed to stretch out, the two of you locked in a silent gaze, the air around you thick with unspoken words and anticipation.

"What do you want from me?" you found the courage to break the silence.

"I missed you," came Sihtric’s immediate response. "Every single day since I left, you’ve been on my mind. I couldn't escape the thought of you."

"Then why…" you began, but Sihtric quickly cut you off.

"I saw you with Sigefried," he blurted out, his voice unsteady. "I heard his proposal, and then I saw him kiss you…" His voice faltered and broke, pausing for a moment to gather himself. "I... I had brought you flowers, and there he was, offering you a home, a future. I... I didn’t know what to do... I…" He stumbled over his words, his voice trailing off, as he struggled to continue.

"You brought me flowers?" you asked, a quiver in your voice, recalling your surprise this morning when you had seen the delicate blooms crushed in the dirt outside the alehouse. A sudden moisture gathered in the corners of your eyes, and it took all your willpower to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"Is what Eanflaed said true?" Sihtric's gaze dropped to the floor, and even in the dimming light of the setting sun, you could see his cheeks redden. "She said you waited for me, that you turned him down because of me. Is that true?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Words seemed to lodge in your throat, making it difficult to speak. "Yes, I did," you finally managed, your voice emerging faintly. "But it doesn’t matter now. I accepted Sigefried’s proposal this morning. We’re getting married tomorrow after the morning sermon."

"What? Why?" Sihtric exclaimed, lifting his head, a look of pain crossing his face.

You gazed at him, a sad smile tugging at your lips, still leaning against the door. You wondered if he really expected an answer. He looked striking in the fading sunlight, the sharp contours of his face thrown into relief by the encroaching shadows, his beautiful, captivating eyes locking with yours, making it impossible to look away. A silent curse escaped your lips, your hands slowly balling into fists as you fought to regulate your increasingly shallow breathing. Your cheeks warmed under Sihtric’s intense gaze, a familiar heat spreading from your stomach through your veins, tingling every cell in your body, clouding your thoughts.

There was a part of you that knew there was nothing more to be said, it was time to leave, a distant voice in your consciousness urged you to go. Instead you straightened up, stepping away from the door, and hesitantly moved towards Sihtric. With each step, the distance between you lessened until you were standing right in front of him. Your hand trembled as you reached up, gently cradling his cheek, your thumb lightly tracing his lower lip.

"Thank you for the flowers," you whispered softly.

"But, I didn’t..." Sihtric began in a hushed tone.

"You are the first one," you gently cut him off, a tender yet sad smile on your lips, "The only one who ever thought to bring me flowers."

Closing his eyes, Sihtric leaned into your touch, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it more firmly against his cheek, a deep sigh escaping him. In that moment, he seemed to straddle the line between boyhood and manhood, like a young soul yearning for love and affection, yet hesitant to fully express it for fear of exposing his innate kindness as a vulnerability.

"I… I shouldn’t be here..." you stammered, your resolve wavering.

"Stay… please, stay with me," Sihtric's plea was soft, his other hand gently cupping your cheek, drawing you closer. He leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving you the chance to pull away if you wished.

You wanted to turn away, to step back and withdraw. It wasn't Sihtric's hold that restrained you – his touch was so featherlight and delicate that you could have easily slipped away at any moment. It was your own body that betrayed you, refusing to comply. With your eyes closed, you felt Sihtric’s lips tentatively meet yours, grazing them in an almost imperceptible touch, his breath warm and trembling against your skin.

“I can’t,” you murmured softly against his lips, but the involuntary whimper that followed told a different story. Despite your words, your hands seemed to act of their own accord, as they found their way to Sihtric’s neck, then upwards, weaving into his hair. The fervour with which you responded to his kiss, parting your lips in an eager, almost desperate need to taste him, betrayed the falsehood in your words.

Emboldened by your response, Sihtric deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. And this time he knew exactly what he was doing, his movements were assured, his lips moving over yours with purpose. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, teasing and exploring, savouring the moment.

Your senses reeled. The sensation of Sihtric’s lips pressed against yours, his tongue entwining with yours, the mingling of your breaths, ignited a fire within you that you could no longer contain or deny. You kissed him back passionately, desperately, matching the intensity of his own need.

Sihtric let out a soft moan as you gently bit his lower lip, stirring sweet memories of your first time together. His hands cradled your face, drawing you closer to his eager yet tender lips. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and quick, and you felt utterly swamped by the intoxicating depth of his kiss, wishing this moment would last forever, that his lips would never part from yours, his hands never release you.

Your fingers began to fumble with the laces of his armour, impatient and desirous they tugged at the fastenings and Sihtric helped you to free him from the layers of the thick leather that kept your heated bodies apart.

"May I?" he asked, his hands hovering over the laces of your dress. You smiled, recalling how you had once asked him the same question.

"Yes, please," you responded, your voice quivering with anticipation. You held your breath as Sihtric's rough fingers began to undo your simple dress, first brushing it off your shoulders, then tracing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. With a firm tug, the dress fell to your feet, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric that made you blush.

Sihtric's palms cupped your face again, and he pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want me?" he whispered, his voice husky and slightly hoarse, his breath unsteady.

"Yyyes, I do," you whispered back. That was the undeniable truth, the sole clear thought in your mind. You wanted him, needed him, like a budding flower needs the rain. Yes, tomorrow everything would change, everything would be different. Tomorrow you would be married, embarking on a new life, but tonight, you were here and you were his and only his.

The soft moan that escaped Sihtric as he claimed your lips again in a gentle yet urgent kiss sent a flutter through you. Sihtric continued to cover your face with soft kisses, starting from your forehead, then moving to your cheeks, and finally trailing down to your jawline. His large hands settled on your hips, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as his hips gently rocked against yours, letting you feel his fully hard cock. “Do you want all of me?” he asked again.

Throughout your life, you had encountered many men, but none had ever made you feel as desired, cherished, and loved as Sihtric did at this moment. And never had you yearned for someone as intensely as you yearned for him now. It wasn't just lust or affection for this young man clouding your thoughts; it was something deeper, a profound and new sensation unfurling within you, so intense it was almost frightening.

“Please, say it. I need to hear it,” he urged, his voice strained between heavy breaths.

“I do, I want you, all of you, every part of you,” you moaned hungrily, your by now completely soaked pussy throbbing for him as your fingers went down to the laces of his breeches, unfastening them quickly, slipping inside and wrapping around his hard length, giving it a needy stroke.

Sihtric groaned, his hands quickly gathering your undergarments, pushing them up your hips and smoothly lifting them over your head in one fluid motion. His arms immediately wrapped around your shoulders again, pulling you close to his bare chest. The warmth of his body enveloped you, seeping into your skin as his mouth traced a path from your jaw down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses and gently nipping at your skin. A loud whine escaped you, your skin tingling under the heat of his touch.

Sihtric placed his hands under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pressed against his broad chest, your arms encircling his neck, marvelling at his strength. He carried you easily, without any sign of strain, and gently laid you down on his bed.

You quickly scrambled up to your knees and reached for his waist, pulling down his breeches and freeing his fully hard cock. You licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around it, giving it a slow stroke and moving your head closer to his dripping tip. Sihtric’s head snapped back as he groaned loudly at your touch, but his hand firmly took hold of your chin, stopping you.

“This time it’s my turn,” he said firmly, his eyes looking down at you dark with lust. “Let me make you feel good,” he murmured, gently pushing you back on the bed, moving his body over you and settling between your legs as he started placing soft kisses down your neck.

He paused at your breasts, suckling slightly at your hard nipples, before going further down, each sloppy open mouthed kiss making you writhe beneath him. Muffled whines rolled over your lips as he continued kissing his way down to your belly, until he reached your pulsing core and the first lap of his tongue over your folds made you arch your back and dig your nails into the mattress, a heavy moan escaping you.

“Oh God, it feels so good,” you whined, and Sihtric let out a satisfied groan, his hot breath tickling you and making the pleasure even more intense. His hands were on your hips, keeping you firmly in place, as he sucked hard at your clit and circled it with his tongue. You felt your climax building up quickly, each lap of his tongue bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You whined and whimpered, rocking your hips against him, mewling his name and begging him not to stop and the moment he pushed his tongue inside you, you felt a hot wave of pure bliss washing over you. Everything around you faded away, consumed by the inferno of ecstasy running through your veins and burning everything in its path, erasing all your doubts and possible regrets.

Sihtric let you savour your high, his tongue gently lapping over your clit, waiting until your body stopped shaking. "Was I good?" he asked, as he moved back on top of you, a slightly sheepish look on his face paired with a mischievous, boyish glint in his eyes, clearly seeking praise and affirmation.

"Holy shit, you were sinfully good," you exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as you were taken aback by the profanity of your own words. You pulled him into your embrace, your legs wrapping around his waist. In that moment, nothing else mattered. All that was important was the soft press of Sihtric’s lips against yours, the comforting weight of his body pinning you to the mattress, and the delightful sensation of his breath tickling your skin.

“I want you, I want to be inside you, to feel you around me,” Sihtric murmured in your ear, breathing heavily, his hard, leaking cock pressing against your core. “Will you have me?”

“Yes, please! I want you. Oh my God, I need you… I need to feel you again,” you moaned, shamelessly rolling your hips up against him. That was all he needed to hear, and in the next instant he was pushing inside you. His hands firmly grasped your wrists, securing your arms above your head, while he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savouring every scent like a dying man cherishing his final breath.

He pushed into you completely until the very end of his shaft, freezing for a moment. “Gods, how good you feel!” Sihtric groaned against your skin, his lips sliding over your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips impatiently, grinding against him, showing him how much you wanted him, how much you needed him and he instantly got you, starting to move, slowly in the beginning, but fastening his pace with each thrust until he was fucking you relentlessly into the mattress, wild growls rolling over his lips.

You met his thrusts with equal eagerness and passion, moving your hips against him, matching his pace. You felt impossibly light, as if soaring, your body seemingly weightless, free from all worries and sorrows. In that moment, there was no past, no future, just the present, blissfully unaware of your surroundings, even the image of the impending wedding had left you as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure surging within you, consuming all your senses.

Your eyes met Sihtric's, and you revelled in the way he gazed at you with such tender fondness, mixed with an unspoken, elusive depth, the softness in his eyes, a trait you never expected to find in a warrior, making your breath hitching in your throat.

You moaned his name, feeling your orgasm approaching, and dug your nails in his back. “Let go, my love,” Sihtric groaned, pounding into you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Let yourself fly. I want you to cum for me. I want to see you falling apart,” he murmured, reaching between your bodies and pushing his fingers at your clit, rubbing it gently.

You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of exhilaration washing over you and then you were falling or maybe flying, you couldn’t tell, as your back arched against the mattress in the most intense orgasm you had ever had. Your walls clenched around Sihtric’s cock and, watching your face lighten up in pure happiness, he followed you spilling deep inside you with a loud groan.

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric moaned, crashing against you, and you wrapped your arms around him with a blissful smile gracing your lips.

“Don’t move,” you purred in his ear. “I want to feel you a little bit longer.”

"As long as you want. I don’t want to let go of you, anyway," Sihtric replied with a deep sigh. "I want you to stay here with me. Will you?" The pleading tone of his voice was tinged with uncertainty.

"I will. I'll stay for the night," you whispered, cradling Sihtric’s face in your hands, gazing deeply into his captivating eyes, and sealing your promise with a tender, soft kiss. You held back a sigh that threatened to break free, grateful that the fallen darkness helped you to conceal the tears that shimmered in your eyes from Sihtric’s view.

Sihtric had so much he wanted to tell you. His wish wasn't merely for you to stay the night; he wanted you to stay with him forever. He longed to awaken each morning to your face, to the feeling of your warmth beside him. He told himself there would be time for those words tomorrow, and every day that followed. For now, you were here, with him, and his happiness was too profound for words, his contentment too deep to break the peaceful silence. Gently, he wrapped the blanket around you, just like that first time, and drew you into his embrace. Your back pressed snugly against his chest, your hair spread over the pillow, he inhaled your exhilarating scent and let the comforting fatigue seep into his bones, lulling him into a restful sleep.

—-------------------------------------

Sihtric awoke to a strange sense of emptiness and a chill in the air. Instinctively, he reached out, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but his hand met only the cold, thin air. His eyes fluttered open to a room bathed in the golden hues of sun long risen above the horizon. Your scent lingered, yet you were nowhere to be seen.

Leaping out of bed, Sihtric looked around in confusion.

"Damn it, no... it can’t be. Damn it!" he muttered as he paced the room. "Why? Why is she doing this to me?" he groaned, his hands balling into fists. A wave of despair and a sense of profound failure overwhelmed him. What had he done wrong? Did last night mean nothing to you?

Glancing quickly out the window, Sihtric saw the small town coming to life in the new day's light, and his ears picked up the distant sound of church bells ringing. A painful realisation struck him, and he raked his hands through his hair, cursing softly.

"Fuck, no…" Sihtric exclaimed, scrambling to gather his clothes strewn about the room. Dressing himself hastily, he then stormed out of the room and pounded on the door down the corridor with both fists.

"What's going on? Sihtric, have you lost your mind?" Uhtred's sleepy face appeared in the doorway.

"Lord, I need your permission. I need your permission to marry," Sihtric nearly shouted, and Uhtred's annoyed expression shifted to one of complete amusement.

"You want to marry? Now? Are you drunk?"

"Yes, lord. No, lord. Now, or it will be too late," Sihtric implored, desperation in his voice. "I've been too late twice already. I can’t miss another chance."

"Wait, slow down! Explain what's happening," Uhtred said, fully opening the door and gesturing for Sihtric to come in.

"Lord…" Sihtric began to protest, but a stern look from Uhtred halted him. With a heavy sigh, Sihtric stepped inside.

—------------------------------------------------

"Should anyone here know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest intoned, and you held your breath in anxious anticipation.

Stealing a glance beneath your lashes, you looked hesitantly at Sigefried beside you. His gaze was locked on the priest, not on you, his fingers tapping against his palm with an air of impatience, as if eager for the ceremony to conclude.

A wave of nausea began to stir in your stomach. Was this the right decision? Was there even such a thing as a right decision? Your feelings for Sihtric were undeniable – profound and inexplicable, intense beyond words. Yet here you were, at the altar.

The hardest part had been slipping away from Sihtric's warm embrace. You had shifted carefully to free yourself from his hold, withdrawing your breath as it seemed you had awakened him. He had moved closer momentarily, his arm tightening around you. You waited, but his steady and rhythmic breathing soon told you he was still asleep.

Finally out of bed, the cool air bit against your naked skin. You quickly picked up your clothes, and dressed. You were already at the door, your hand reaching out for the handle, as you stopped and turned, casting one last look at Sihtric. He appeared so peaceful, content, and serene in the ethereal light of the dawn's first rays, looking so young and innocent, like a prince from a fairy tale. But as much as you wished for it, this fairy tale couldn’t have a happy ending.

You couldn’t stay. Despite the ache in your heart, it was impossible. He was from a different world, he was a stranger, a passer by in your life. The events of the past days had made that painfully evident.

Today he was here with you, but tomorrow he would leave again, bound to follow his lord wherever fate led. What would remain for you? Only waiting. An endless, uncertain wait, shrouded in doubt and suspense, without even knowing its purpose. His absence turning into eternity you would never know whether it was because his gods had called him from this world or because he had chosen to marry and settle down with someone else. And nobody would ever tell you, for you were not a part of his world.

You struggled to contain the tears welling up, but realising there was no one around to witness them, you allowed them to flow freely as you gently closed the door behind you. As much as it tore at your heart, you were grateful to fate for having your paths crossed with this sweet, passionate, and kindhearted young warrior. He had awakened emotions within you that you were certain would stay with you for the rest of your life, giving you warmth and strength to face what you must do.

"Please face each other and join hands," the priest's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, and you turned towards your soon-to-be husband, extending your trembling hands. A shy smile touched your lips, but it failed to reach your eyes, where tears shimmered.

The priest drew breath, and opened his mouth to speak as a loud voice suddenly cut through the air "I object!" echoed through the vast hall and a figure blocked the light streaming through the open doors of the church. You flinched, as if stung, immediately recognizing the voice. Panic welled up inside you as you turned, already knowing who you would see, the voice having been unmistakably familiar.

Why was he doing this? Was it an act of revenge for wounded pride? Was he about to reveal that you had spent the night with him, just to shame you? Could he really be that heartless? Questions fluttered through your mind like alarmed birds as you saw three men, three warriors, stride down the church aisle, stopping just before you.

The priest shifted nervously, his robe rustling in the sudden, uneasy silence. No one spoke. You didn’t dare to lift your gaze, acutely feeling the stares of Sigefried and the few witnesses he had brought, as if they were piercing through you.

"I object," Sihtric repeated, this time more quietly, a strange tremor in his voice.

"What matter do you wish to raise, young man?" the priest inquired, casting nervous glances at the three men, his eyes widening with apprehension upon noticing Thor's hammer around the necks of two of them.

"You can't marry him," Sihtric said, now addressing you directly. His voice was soft, almost imploring, devoid of any malice or anger. Sigefried cleared his throat, seemingly about to interject. He moved a step towards Sihtric, but the firm stares from Uhtred and Finan caused him to reconsider, and he stepped back silently.

"Why?" your question emerged as a faint whisper under your breath as you still didn’t dare to raise your eyes.

"Because I love you," Sihtric's answer struck you like a bolt from the blue.

"You love me?" you echoed, the concept feeling foreign and almost unreal. Love was a notion that had seemed absent from your life. Even recognising the feelings you had for Sihtric you had never dared to call them love. Could it truly have a place now? You lifted your eyes, meeting Sihtric’s earnest gaze.

"I love you and I know that you love me too, even if you try to hide it. Can you deny it?," Sihtric’s voice resonated with unwavering certainty, free of any doubt or hesitation, as he knelt before you, extending his arm towards you. "I may not have much to offer, but I offer you my hand, my heart, and the promise that I will love you until my last breath. Will you marry me?"

You struggled to speak, but a lump in your throat rendered you silent. The church was steeped in a suffocating silence, and you stared down at Sihtric in disbelief. His gaze was steady, his hand outstretched and waiting.

Inside, Sihtric’s heart pounded at an alarming rate. He summoned all his willpower to appear calm and composed, concealing the storm of emotions within, striving to keep his outstretched hand from trembling. As the silence stretched, doubts began to cloud his mind. Had he been mistaken all along? Had he seen only what he longed to see, even if it wasn't true? Was he merely deceived by his own foolish heart, seeking love and acceptance in a place where none existed? His eyes darkened with shades of doubt and disillusion.

“Yes, I will,” your words emerged as a faint whisper, a light breeze carrying the soft clang of your shaking voice, yet he heard them. Those three words seemed to breathe life back into Sihtric, his eyes brightening with hope and happiness.

“Yes, yes! Oh my God, Sihtric, I love you! I will! I will marry you!” You found your voice again, repeating the words, thrilled by their sound. You placed your trembling hand in Sihtric’s, seeking stability as the world seemed to spin around you. In seconds, Sihtric was on his feet, closing the gap between you, wrapping you in his embrace, showering your face with kisses.

“I knew it, I knew you loved me. I saw it in your beautiful eyes. I could feel it, ” he murmured into your ear.

“Hey, priest, snap out of it. We’ve got a wedding to conduct,” Uhtred’s distant voice seemed to come from another realm. You looked up at Sihtric questioningly, only to be met with his reassuring smile.

“I will marry you here before your God, and when we return to Cochem, I’ll marry you again before my gods. Nothing in this world or the next will ever tear us apart.”

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric smut #the last kingdom fanfic

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baldursgat3 · 11 months

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Well I was bored so I did what everyone does and wrote a 3.5k word fanfiction and made a brand new blog to post it on. So.

Anyway that thing that Gortash did to his parents was pretty fucked up right? Oh hey Ascended Astarion what are you doing here?

gn Tav, cw for some allusions to some non-con-ish stuff, haven't even done an ascended run yet but it's fine also spawn Tav

He so rarely called on his ability to compel you, but you felt the sensation begin to creep at the back of your mind. It felt like a spider climbing up your brain stem to weave it's web inside your skull. "Astarion, please don't-" "You are going to watch and listen. Do you understand? You are going to learn what is expected of you. And until you have, you will be obedient and silent. Am I clear, my darling?" "Yes, my love."

It was only supposed to be temporary - a punishment for having escaped yet again. It didn't matter that you had every intention of returning as soon as the sun began to poke over the horizon, you had still found yourself cornered in the streets by your darling. The look of anger in his eyes only dampened by his annoyance.

"It's like you don't even try to listen to me, dearest." He had hissed, crowding you back against a wall. "Tell me how I'm supposed to keep you safe when you insist on sneaking around and frolicking off to the worst parts of the city in the dead of night."

"I'm sorry." You dropped your gaze to the ground. "I just- get so bored sometimes…" Maybe if you blame yourself, your own poor impulse control, maybe that would satisfy him.

Instead he just laughed. A short, almost incredulous chuckle. "Oh, you're bored. I see, well of course that's all right then. By all means, throw yourself to the wolves then, my love. Since you're bored."

He grabbed your hands in his, muttering a quick spell, and you were home. You watched as he opened his eyes again and his shoulders relaxed. You were here and safe beside him again and he could breathe once more.

But still, "This was the fourth time in less than a month. What do I have to do to make you understand?" Astarion's grip on your hands tightened.

"You could just let me go…" You mumbled bitterly before you could think any better of it. The instant the words escaped your mouth you had regretted them.

His eyes darkened and he pulled you in closer. He brought one hand up to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you firmly in place. "We are not having this discussion again. You know you belong here."

"But if you would just let me out once in a while I wouldn't-"

"It only takes once, don't you get that?" He hissed, his fangs bared. "One person, just like me. Hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike. Do you understand how high profile you are? Do you not see other nobility out with their guards? They don't prowl the dingiest taverns they can find for good reason, my love."

"I can handle myself!" You snapped back. He was already angry, you were already screwed, how much worse could you possibly make it?

You watched countless emotions fly across his face before irritation settled. Truthfully, not the worst possibility. "I know that you're strong and capable. But it's been years since either of us have lived that kind of life. Those skills don't just stay sharp, you know that. You can hold your own against one, maybe two people. But what happens when you're surrounded? And you're alone, I don't know where you are, I can't help you. Do you not understand that I'm trying to protect you?" He spoke, almost as though he was trying to rationalize with a child.

In his defense you did huff like one. "So I'm meant to stay locked up here forever because you're afraid?" That was the wrong word to choose. The annoyed look fell into anger as he pulled you in even tighter.

"Yes." It was short and filled with a venom that shot a wave of fear down your spine. He so rarely called on his ability to compel you, but you felt the sensation begin to creep at the back of your mind. It felt like a spider climbing up your brain stem to weave it's web inside your skull.

"Astarion, please don't-"

"You are going to watch and listen. Do you understand? You are going to learn what is expected of you. And until you have, you will be obedient and silent. Am I clear, my darling?"

"Yes, my love." Were the words that came out of your mouth. They certainly weren't the ones you were intending, though. What do you mean? What are you talking about? What are you doing? All questions that were desperately trying to escape, but none came.

His face softened as he pulled his hand away from your neck to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentle smile. "There we are. I love you, you know? So much. I just… I don't know what I'd do without you."

~*~*~

For something you found so horrifying, Astarion was remarkably calm about what he'd done to you. "As irritating and, honestly, pathetic as he was, Gortash did manage to strike me with a touch of inspiration." He had explained as you helplessly smiled back at him.

"The magic he used against his parents was… clever, I'll say. It was terribly cruel of him to leave them like that, trapped in their own minds forever. You have to understand, that's not what I'm doing." He looked so sad, suddenly. He grabbed your hand in both of his and held tight and you felt your face drop to match his emotions.

"I love you. Please, trust me. You don't know this life like I do. You're so- so kind. So trusting and wonderful and lovely. And it's going to get you killed. This is only temporary. I can keep you safe like this while you learn what you need to. This life is politics and swindling and scheming. It's not heroics and good deeds. One day- one day I swear we'll go back but for now this is what must be done. Please just… just trust that I know what I'm doing. And that I love you."

You felt the cobwebs clear for a moment, brushed aside to give you a chance to speak again. He was giving you a choice, though you weren't entirely sure what either outcome was meant to be. You did trust him though, you loved him. And maybe he was right. You had no idea really what the life of this caliber was like. He had been of nobility his entire life. "I trust you."

You felt the cobwebs fill your head again as he smiled, so gently, so sweetly. So why did it make your stomach turn?

~*~*~

He never gave you any sort of timeline. You had expected it to take a few months though. He was training you, shaping you into the perfect little accessory to attach to his hip. It wasn't always horrible, especially at first when he would clear the cobwebs away at night to discuss how you were feeling and what you were learning.

It did feel a bit demeaning. He was your partner not your mother, after all. But you could tell how relaxed he was now that he wasn't worrying about you so much. And it was always easier to learn by doing, even if it wasn't technically you doing anything.

Still, you saw the way you responded to other nobles when they asked you things you had no clue about. Truthfully, you found yourself hoping Astarion might just do this for every big event you went to. The idea of trying to remember all of these names and titles and schemes was daunting. It'd be easier to keep him happy if he was practically speaking through you and it took a huge pressure off your shoulders.

It was when the people left that you began to have a problem. Even when it was just the two of you alone. He allowed the compulsion to drop less and less frequently. Some days you wondered if he'd forgotten it was there at all. You hated when he would spend his time talking with this fake perfect version of you.

Jealousy. It must be. And you felt so stupid for it too. It was still you, your voice and body. And, honestly, half the time the responses this fake you gave were the exact same ones you would've given anyway. So what did it matter so much?

It was frustrating not being able to control your own body. You missed being able to reach out and grab his hand whenever you wanted. There were a lot of things you missed. Most things, actually.

You missed kissing him. It's not that he didn't kiss you like this, or that you couldn't feel it. When he kissed you it just felt awful. Your stomach would churn and all you wanted to do was pull away. You honestly didn't even feel that terrible the time he had forgotten you were in there while you had sex. (Something he had apologized for profusely, long after you'd forgiven him.)

But the kisses were so tender and sweet and they were for someone who wasn't you. It was this fake you that he made for himself and you just couldn't stand it. Next time he dusted you off, you had made up your mind to ask him to stop.

If only you'd made that decision a touch sooner. It had already been over a week since you were last freed from your compulsion. As the days ticked by, you grew less and less confident that you would get the chance to ask.

It has been months already. You weren't entirely sure, but it must've been closing in on a year since he'd first started this project. It didn't feel like it but it was winter again so it must've been.

You kept hoping, every night when you went to bed you silently begged Astarion to hear you again, to let you out of your mind. He never seemed to hear you. Instead he would pepper you in kisses and speak to you like nothing was different.

Weeks turned to months. Every day that went by without being in control of your own body was beginning to take a toll on your mind.

Astarion's touch became less and less welcome until you wanted to shriek and tear at your own skin every time you felt him near you. You screamed and begged and agonized, hoping that if you could just yell loud enough maybe he would hear you.

He had forgotten about you. You became more and more certain with every evening spent on your back for him now. The first time he'd used you like that he was devastated. The idea that he'd had a change of heart was somehow even more crushing than being forgotten. You couldn't entertain that idea.

It made more sense that he'd forgotten you anyway. It had been so long, he'd gotten so used to you like this. He couldn't hear you screaming and thrashing inside your head. And when you were alone, he truly hadn't changed that much about you. Perhaps some of the comments you made were a touch closer to something he would say, but that really only served to push the real you further from his mind.

You had to accept it. You were trapped in your own mind, helpless against the man you adored. You were angry and frightened and so, so desperate to be free. It ached in your chest every time words that weren't yours escaped your lips. You raged every time you felt his touch on your skin. His kiss left you longing to tear out your hair and shriek until your throat burned.

You were truly, utterly helpless.

~*~*~

It was summer now. You were pretty sure, anyway. It was a bit hard to tell exactly when spring ended and summer began when you never saw the sun.

Astarion was hosting a rather large event that evening. You weren't entirely sure what it was for or why. You had stopped bothering to pay attention to these things once you realized it was no longer about learning how to engage with high brow politics. The you that had control would handle it anyway.

You were dressed in a lovely ball gown, a favorite of Astarion's. He liked the wide hoop skirt, it kept people from getting too close to you.

It was like any other stupid high end party. Food that was so decadent and rich you could barely eat any of it. Most of it would be thrown away. What a waste. One of the few thoughts you had as you essentially dissociated through the party.

Your body picked up a small hors d'oeuvre, delicately biting the bite sized snack in two. It was far too unbecoming to pop the entire thing into your mouth, despite it being shaped for exactly that.

"Any good?" A voice from behind you startled you and your false self out of your tiny food related thoughts.

The fake you recognized him first, as your mind still tried to bring the world back into focus. You felt yourself lunge forward, hoop skirt be damned, as you threw your arms around the person in front of you now. Somewhere in the back of your mind you found it extremely strange that fake you would be allowed to do such a thing.

When you finally pulled back, you were present enough to see who you were hugging and it, truthfully, made even less sense. "Gale!" You heard yourself as you bounced excitedly on the balls of your feet. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, it's a big event isn't it?" He grinned, patting you on the shoulder. "Should the famed Wizard of Waterdeep not receive such an illustrious invitation?" He laughed, taking a small step towards the food table. "No, Wyll was invited. He brought Karlach as a plus one. She told me and I pestered Astarion to invite the rest of us. He didn't tell you?"

That sounded about right. You couldn't help laughing. Gods you'd missed them all. "He didn't, but everyone else is here too?"

"Well, no. I got them an invite, that's the best I could do. Shadowheart and Halsin are around here somewhere. Who knows about anyone else." He said, filling up a plate with tiny snacks. A small part of you was happy at least someone was eating like a normal person.

"Come on then, and fill a plate for Karlach would you? I said I'd bring them all back something." Gale smiled back at you as he began filling another plate, presumably for Wyll.

"Have you seen Astarion yet?" Oh, that was a good question actually. At least fake you was thinking about your love.

Gale nodded, picking up the second plate. "He met us when we first got here. Honestly, I expected you to be with him. Barely had a moment to talk, though, before he got pulled away."

"Precisely why I'm not with him." You laughed, picking up the plate you'd made for Karlach. "An event like this is going to have him pulled twenty directions. I'm supposed to stay over here to watch over things but-" But? Fake you didn't argue with buts. How strange. The power of friendship perhaps? Or Astarion's attention being so split with such a large event was allowing even the perfect version of you he hand crafted to slip through the cracks. Either way, you weren't arguing. "Well, it'll be fine to slip away for a moment." Strange.

You followed Gale back to where Wyll and Karlach were standing just a bit too close as they chatted. They were both dressed to the nines, Wyll in a well fitted suit with a short, ornamental cape draped over one shoulder. Karlach was putting him to shame though, in a floor length strapless dress with a slit that traveled halfway up her thigh. You'd never taken Karlach for a dress person and, watching the way she awkwardly moved in it, you'd assume you were right. That didn't stop anyone with eyes from stopping and staring as she walked by. You even found your own gaze lingering a bit too long. Very strange.

"Hey, soldier!" Her voice rang out loud and clear as soon as she spotted you. Before you knew it, you were wrapped in her arms and lifted off the floor with ease. You couldn't help laughing as you carefully tried to keep the plate of food balanced.

Your skirt swished back into place as she set you down, beaming at you. "It's been way too long. Just because you can't go out in the sun doesn't mean Astarion has to lock you away in the dungeon." She laughed again. If only she knew.

"I was surprised I even got an invite." Wyll chuckled, stepping closer. "I don't play his political games, but I'm happy to enjoy some good food with some old friends." Gods he was so sweet. If you didn't know just how genuinely he meant it, you wouldn't trust him.

"Well, I'm certainly happy to see all of you!" It's been so lonely cooped up in here, I've missed you so much. Your lungs longed to scream out to them, to beg them for help.

It was enough they'd taken you away from your post, you knew it was too much to ask for your voice to break through as well. It didn't stop you from wishing with your whole heart for your friends to hear you.

Instead, you had a pleasant conversation about what they've all been up to. Stories of the adventures Karlach and Wyll had been on, an anecdote about Tara that made everyone laugh. Halsin and, later, Shadowheart found their way into the circle, bringing their own stories. It would've been lovely were you not begging to be heard.

Karlach noticed first, of course she did. You saw it happen. You weren't sure what did it exactly but, as you were speaking, you saw her brow knit together. She watched you a bit closer. Fake you must've noticed as well, you felt yourself straighten up a bit more, talk a bit gentler.

It wasn't enough, she'd clocked something and now she was watching. The conversation shifted away from you but her gaze lingered. The you in control longed for her to look away, while the real you screamed for her attention. I'm here, please see me, gods please hear me!

You felt her watching you for at least ten minutes before she leaned in to whisper something to Gale. Oh gods, now he was watching you like a hawk. They both knew something was wrong but they couldn't tell what.

If you hadn't been watching them, you would've missed the small hand gesture and whispered incantation from the wizard. You didn't feel anything but clearly he didn't get what he wanted.

Then you felt it. A small tingling sensation in your head then, suddenly, it was as though the doors to your mind had been thrown open and you felt yourself recoil as though sunlight was pouring in. He was digging into your thoughts.

"Gale!?" You called out desperately in your head, watching as he blinked in shock. The gentle, practiced smile that remained stuck on your face completely opposed to the desperation he heard in your voice.

"Are you all right?" He asked, out loud, much to everyone else's confusion. Particularly Halsin's, who had been actively speaking when Gale interrupted.

"Gale, please! You can hear me?" Your mind screamed.

"Oh, me? Oh, I'm fine." Your mouth replied.

"I can hear you. What's going on?" Gale pressed forward, ignoring the questioning looks he received.

"Um, Gale-" Wyll had started but the wizard was disinterested in interrupting whatever connection he had with you right now.

"Gale, gods, Gale." What could you even say? You had to say something. But how could you explain this? You knew they all disapproved of the way Astarion kept you squirreled away but they never argued because you were both happy and it really wasn't exactly their business. But this? This was different. This was… well. Fucked up.

He was smart though. It didn't exactly take much to put two and two together. Two different answers, two different versions of his dear friend. "What happened? Does Astarion know about this?"

You would've flinched had you been in control of your body. "Really, Gale, I'm all right, I'm not sure what you're talking about." You still smiled warmly.

"He- he's the one who did this but-!" You panicked as you watched a darkness take over Gale's face.

"Okay, does anyone know what's going on right now?" Wyll tried to interject again, only to be met with a misdirected scowl from Gale.

"It would seem our resident vampire lord has gone a bit too far." He practically spat. He had never been overly fond of your relationship in the first place. You were never sure but Astarion was certain it was jealousy - partially why you were so surprised to see Gale had been invited at all.

"Use your words, Elminster." Karlach folded her arms, already impatient to know what was happening.

Gale turned back to you as his anger turned towards sadness. "I don't know how, but he's puppeting them. This-" He waved a hand at your calm, relaxed smile. "This is all fake. I can hear them, they're trapped in there."

"Gale, please, don't get angry, please." You were trying to do damage control now. You didn't want this to break bad for Astarion, you just wanted to be let out. "I- I just think he might've forgotten me, if you just-"

"Forgot you!? What do you mean forgot you? How long have you been in there?"

"Gale! Please don't cause a fuss, please. This- this doesn't have to affect the night. He just needs a reminder, that's all, it's all right."

"How long."

"I… I don't know. Over a year…" You knew saying that would be a bad idea. The rage took over his face again, while the rest of your companions watched with varying levels of confusion.

"Over a year." His voice was flat, his typical affectations and charming cadence gone. "Would someone be so kind as to request the presence of Lord Ancunín? I think we need to have quite the conversation."

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #sorry fkdjskdjdkfhsl

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phantom-of-the-501st · 3 months

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Audience Comprehension of Grey Areas within Conflict in Media

I haven't written an analysis piece in a while, and while I don't necessarily have any thoughts on specific episodes, or a singular show atm, there's something that I've been thinking about recently that I feel like talking about.

In recent years, I've seen subsets of fandoms becoming less and less understanding of the idea of a "grey area" when it comes to fiction, believing that every situation has a right and wrong side, and that there is no way for two feuding characters to both be the logical party in a conflict. Semi-recently I've seen this in two fandoms that I participate in: The Bad Batch (Hunter vs Crosshair) and Good Omens (Crowley vs Aziraphale). Now I've gone into detail about both of these before, so I'm going to try and trim those discussions down for this post, but it's a similar problem in both fandoms and I feel like looking into it a bit.

Tags for @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings @eriexplosion and @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius in case anyone feels like pitching in

Hunter vs Crosshair

Now the relationship between Hunter and Crosshair was... complicated to say the least. There were so many factors that influenced their actions and decisions, which put both of them in a position of being right and wrong simultaneously. And yet despite them both being at fault, there was an ongoing war within the fandom about who was supporting the right side; were you Team Hunter or Team Crosshair? According to some, you couldn't be both because there was no way both of them could be right, could there?

Team Hunter always seemed to be the popular option, as he was considered the morally superior of the two. However, that doesn't mean that he was without faults. In fact, he was greatly flawed: so focused on his own belief of what was the right choice that he struggled to consider others ideas, reckless and impulsive, stubborn. He was far from perfect. But let's be real, nobody is. And yet, despite all of his flaws, Hunter was considered by many to be a character who could do no wrong, and therefore was the obvious man to support in this ongoing conflict.

So what about Crosshair? Well he was brash, cold, a downright arsehole at points, and chose to stay on the side of the Empire. Surely he couldn't be considered the one in the right here? Well, it's not that simple and it never was.

It all boils down to that moment when The Batch left Crosshair on Kamino at the beginning of S1. Hunter and The Batch didn't have much choice. Their own brother was shooting at them, their lives were at risk, and had they stayed there, they likely would have died or been captured. They couldn't have taken Cross with them because they could not guarantee their own safety. As much as he was their brother, he was a threat to them. But we also have to consider this from Crosshair's perspective. Yes, he was trying to capture his own squad, but he'd been mentally manipulated and was in no position to make rational decisions. He was under the Empire's control. And yet, despite being in danger himself, and needing the help of his brothers, he was left behind. It was understandable that he lost faith in them. But neither side is entirely at fault here. They made the best decision they could in that situation, and no the decisions weren't perfect, but when are they ever?

Let's look at the other crucial moment that always gets brought up in this conversation: Crosshair being left on the Kamino landing platform at the end of S1. I've seen many coming to Crosshair's defence here, saying that the squad had no right to leave their brother there. But let's be honest, it could've been so much worse had they taken him. Yes, Crosshair spent over 30 rotations on that platform, but The Batch didn't know that was going to happen. And Crosshair was refusing to come with them. Had they forced him along, that would've done more damage than good; Crosshair was vulnerable, scared of losing his autonomy. Having his brothers force him onto a ship against his will was going to make him more argumentative and stressed. The best thing the Batch could've done in that situation was respect their brother's choice, which they did.

Throughout the entire conflict in this show, both Hunter and Crosshair were right and wrong. It was never as simple as one side being the "good" side, and the other not, their actions were both fair and unfair. No-one could make perfect choices because no situation could allow that. And yet, there was this general understanding across a section of the fandom that a person's entire moral compass could be determined by which side of the argument they fell on, and that there was no way to accommodate both sides at the same time.

Crowley vs Aziraphale

Which brings me onto conflict number 2: the Ineffable Husbands. The ending of S2 was heartbreaking to say the least, and while it was surprising in the moment, in retrospect, it was completely inevitable. And while I remember just how depressed we were after that ending, I also remember just how angry the fandom got with Aziraphale. Our poor angel took the brunt of the hate and was considered by many people to have been the one in the wrong. But Zira wasn't the only perpetrator of that mess. Both of them were to blame, and the storm that hit was always going to come in at some point.

The ending argument parallels a spat that the two had at the beginning of the season, when Crowley and Aziraphale were trying to decide what to do about Gabriel. Aziraphale supported the "fix the problem" approach, suggesting that they should help the Archangel, while Crowley went for the "ditch the problem" approach, claiming they should just dump him in Dartmoor. And while they were both trying to achieve the same thing (eliminate the Gabriel issue), they had both A) came up with different plans and B) assumed that the other would have come up with the same idea as them. They thought their "exactlys" were the same, until Crowley points out the flaw: "I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlys".

And this is how we ended up with the ending of GO S2. Aziraphale wanted to fix the system: he recognised the flaws, and as someone who had dedicated his entire existence to being a good ambassador for Heaven, had viewed it as the only logical solution. It's the exact response you'd expect from someone still trapped in a toxic religious group, a belief that the flaws in your faith can be rectified, no matter what. He made the choice you'd expect him to but where he stumbled was in expecting Crowley, who he knew had been through a great deal of trauma as a result of what Heaven did, to make the same choice as him. He knew how hurt Crowley had been, so it wasn't fair to expect that he would make the same choice.

And yet the same could be said for Crowley. Given Crowley's trauma, ditching Heaven is a perfectly reasonable solution for him. He knows how twisted their morals are, and understands that realistically, no matter he does, there will always be someone higher up the chain who would thwart any attempts to fix the institutional issues. It was perfectly demonstrated by Gabriel being punished for trying to prevent Armageddon. However, Crowley never told Aziraphale about how Gabriel was exiled from Heaven, so it's entirely unfair for him to expect Zira to make the same choice, when he purposefully withheld information from him.

Just like at the beginning of Season 2, they had both had the same end goal in mind, but their approaches differed and they assumed that the other would make the same decision as then. That was their downfall. So yes, as an audience member, you can have your own opinions on which choice you think is better, but it isn't simply as black and white as one being right and one being wrong. They can both be at fault.

Why do I think it's like this?

Ultimately, I think audience reactions to conflicts like this boil down to three things: availability of information to the audience, escapism, and our own battle with morality.

As an audience member, we will always have different information to the characters themselves. When it came to Hunter and Crosshair, we knew what was happening to both characters, so we couldn't understand why characters were making certain decisions, but it's important to remember that we have more information, so of course our own choices would be different. We have context. The same with Good Omens. Like I said, we know what happened to Gabriel, as does Crowley, but Aziraphale doesn't. So while we can back up Crowley's decision, we can't necessarily fault Zira when he doesn't know what we do.

Additionally, as viewers, we seek escapism. The world is a mess and conflicts have so many layers that sometimes a clear answer isn't always easily found. So when we turn to media, we hope for something clearer, something that will tell us exactly what is right and wrong. Things being so morally grey feels to real for us, so we fight to find the good and bad; we want answers so we build up black and white decisions, even if that isn't how things are actually playing out.

Not only this, but I think our own fight for moral superiority influences our consumption of media. We always want to be the "good" person, so we fight to be on the right side. We don't like being wrong and we judge people's morality by whether or not they agree with us because we don't like the idea of siding with a character that isn't entirely good. But life isn't like that. People aren't like that. We're flawed, we make bad decisions, and there is never a perfect answer to the decisions we make. Yes, some choices will always be better than others, but sometimes things are so grey and murky that we can find support and fault in both sides. However, people don't like that. They want to be right, to be good, so they find what they align with most and claim that as the "correct" side, attacking those that disagree because if they don't side with you, then they must be morally inferior. And in all honestly, I think this has just gotten worse over time.

At the end of the day, not everything is black and white, and your understanding of flaws in a character does not mean that you agree with or support them. It can simply be a case of recognition. Things aren't as clear cut as we would like them to be, they are more complicated, and the sooner we understand that, the sooner we can appreciate just how rich some of these stories and characters can be.

#ya girl is back #for this post at least #I had thoughts so I dumped them here #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair #tbb hunter #hunter #good omens #the ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #Crowley x aziraphale

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tothefiniteyou · 4 months

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Something that's been in my head a while concerning the brothers and their "roles", so to speak. This is meant to be about the original Mirage comics, but applies to 2003 and IDW as well. Potentially 2012, maybe more. I don't remember the exact issues, but this WILL contain spoilers for IDW and the original comics.

Raph is the one that takes on the responsibilities no one else does/wants to. He very often has to play the part of the bad guy because his convictions are more rebellious in comparison to what Splinter teaches them, core beliefs and rules that Leo in particular takes to heart. Raph keeps his family in line through his anger, for better and worse, being the one of tough love. In volume 1 of Mirage when they retreated from New York after Leo was almost killed, he calls his brother a coward for not "finishing the job" and goes off to face the Shredder alone. He almost got killed because of his impulsiveness, yes, but Leo's always been about saving his family. So really, he had the courage to face Shredder again because it was for someone else's sake. Their whole fight was kind of gruesome and full of harsh words, but at the end of it all, Leo thanks Raph for it. It's very interesting to me. It shows that Leo, even if he was originally mad, understands that his brother was only doing it because he was scared of his family being hurt again. He sees that it was for his own good, so he expresses gratitude.

Alongside that, I've said before that it's not that Raph wants to be the leader because of the title itself, but rather that he wants freedom, and for others to listen to him. He resents Leo for holding him back, not fully understanding his brother's reasoning. He focuses more on action and less on the consequences of said actions and choices.

In essence, Raph is often the one that has to do the dirty work. His parentification in Rise is even similar to this, having to parent his brothers and be the one to tell them "no", even when it isn't his responsibility. But if no one else is going to do it, then he has to be the bad guy, even if his brothers resent him for it. At his core, he always has his family in mind, even if the execution is flawed.

Raph being thought of as the shield has always felt right to me, as shields can still be used to hurt.

On to Leo - Leo is a very existential person, and that also makes him the most spiritual. Kind of a yin and yang ordeal, with him seeing how there's a balance to things. (I would also say that he needs to assign a purpose to everything, if only to rationalize bad things. It's sort of why he has a bit of a crisis in several iterations when Splinter isn't there to guide him). He's the most "warrior-like" because of the way he values life and honors things like bushido. He'll kill to protect, but that doesn't make him callous, just "strong" (putting this in quotes for multiple reasons). I think IDW tackled this quite lovely, especially when he goes on to have a greenhouse just full of life.

However, I can't say all of this without mentioning the fact that Splinter's teachings are often flawed. I've said before that a lot of Leo's major "arcs" and "growing up" is about becoming his own person and leader, and that's still very much true. Blind Sight is my favorite story to have come from the original comics, and I think it really puts into perspective how Leo struggles to see himself as anything but a weapon. It's that bad habit of his where he must assign purpose to everything, struggling when proven wrong or having to recontextualize things. There's so much more I want to say about him and his role, but a lot of it would be reiterating my points from this post. I struggle to call Leo the sword of the team considering his words to Mikey about how, if he were to throw his katana off the roof, would that be the same as throwing himself. But in Blind Sight, he does learn that he's more than just some sword for his father to wield, and that a sword not only hurts, but protects.

People infantilize Mikey wayyyy too much in this fandom for just being the youngest, which makes me have to pick and choose my words very carefully for fear of the wrong impression. He's definitely the goofball that tends to not take things as seriously, but I think something that The Last Ronin meant to emphasize is that his "raw talent" is from a place of love. It's not that he's not the best of them all just because he lacks focus, it's that he's never seen a reason for him to have to be a warrior like that. Surrounded by his brothers, he doesn't have to try so hard. He'll watch their backs and they'll watch his. He's got the same warrior's spirit as the others, it's just that he rejects some of those teachings in his own way? Raph is often seen as the contrast to Leo, and that's typically true, but I think Mikey can be as well... In a way, Mikey has the most ties to humanity, and that's why I think he's similar to Leo in some ways. Not to say the brothers don't have humanity, but... It's so hard to word what I mean, bear with me.

Being a better warrior kind of means losing his fun-loving and go with the flow nature. He would be less like Mikey. Not to say that being good at fighting exactly equates to being deadly, but that's always a possibility, you know? IDW Mikey is such a good balance and blend of his little shit characterization and his more empathetic side. When he's the first to leave and reject Splinter's ways in IDW, this shows what I mean with him being more strong than Leo's way of being considered strong. He might not be "the best", and he might not tap into his raw talent that several characters mention, but I don't think that's what he necessarily wants. Splinter's idea of strong isn't necessarily the best.... Hopefully this section makes sense and my point gets across that Mikey is both the heart and armor of the team.

And as for Donnie... Oh boy! He has to use a gun in the original comics and actually be the one to kill (since only Raph and Leo really did that from what I can remember), and it shakes him up SO BADLY... And volume 1 just ends with him not choosing to go back to the sewers with his brothers, but to stay on the farm with Splinter for a bit. This is quite a finishing scene after ending a whole war within the city...

Donnie doesn't love his brothers any less, it just goes to show that he's never wanted to be the one to have to kill, and maybe wasn't prepared for it. While Mikey is definitely a pacifist, you can argue that Donnie is more of one. Him wielding the bo even supports this idea, as it can still be deadly, but not as lethal as his brothers' weapons. He's a very soft-hearted person that prefers to invent and give life to machines.

I hate when people think he's any less skilled in fighting than his brothers, because that's wrong! He just doesn't like violence and, dare I say it, I don't think he ever wanted to be a warrior in the same way. His intellect is a mightier and more useful weapon to him, because he can use it to keep others safe and make machines that can do all sorts of things. He'll fight to protect, same as the others, but disarming is more of his goal in the end. This makes Donnie, at least to me, both the brains and armor for the group. He's more than that, but... something something, things falling apart when Donnie is missing in SAINW.

At the end of it all, something you have to remember about all of them is that, even when they grow older, they started out as nothing more than child soldiers cultivated for the sake of revenge. Killing was always in the books, but they all have a different role on the team, and killing wasn't meant to be Donnie's. He helps with plan-making and would probably rather be support than a tank, if that makes sense.

They're heroes but but but. They're just kids, too...........Gripping my head

#tmnt #tmnt 1984 #tmnt mirage #tmnt idw #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2012 #all of them #leo may be my favorite but i don't play about any of them #their core characteristics are so important to me #character analysis #rottmnt #since i mention it a few times #i didn't add this in mostly because i wasn't sure how to word it but #there was that really good thread on here about rise leo and his relationship with death and i think it heightens my point #i think i could've mentioned how this affects things in the 2007 movie but #well #anyways #i have many thoughts about these guys all the time anytime

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multicolour-ink · 1 year

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Mario Bros and Separation Anxiety - a character analysis

- - -

Mario no doubt has the worst of it. Luigi may fret over his brother too, but Mario is foremost, a protector. He has, and will always, put others before himself. He carries the burden so they don’t have to. And that is no more clearer than with Luigi. It’s an undying vow he has taken since they were born.

If Luigi is not safe, if he’s not with him, Mario has a strong impulse to make things right on his own.

I’ve always had the belief that if something dreadful were to happen to Luigi - if he were to be lost forever - Mario would find it so hard to cope. He may put on a brave front, but sooner than later the cracks would show themselves. As @chloecherrysip put it, Mario needs Luigi like he needs to breathe.

Luigi on the otherhand, is emotional sure, but that is where the key difference between the two lies.

Unlike his brother, Luigi wears his heart on his sleeve constantly. He is always open with his emotions, good or bad, which means that he also understands better than Mario when is the right time to open yourselves to others and ask for help (to be rational), and when is the right time to plan (so things can be set right).

If Luigi were to lose Mario, then he would be so broken yes; but whereas Mario would be fully in denial for a long time, desperate to fix things until he is left even more broken, Luigi has the sense to accept things as they happen. It hurts, but he has to think what needs to be true, and what is the right thing to do to cope.

- - -

Also a side note, but this brilliantly represents their elements they are associated with: fire and lightning.

Fire burns and never stops. A wildfire can go on for ages, until it eventually peters out, or it’s put under control.

Lighting is fierce and passionate. But it only forms when there’s certain elemental changes in the air, amd goes away when things return to normal.

Originally wrote this in response to @oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh on this post, as they brought up the fact that the separation anxiety between the Bros in the movie appears to be one sided. I figured it might also benefit others if they just wanted to read it on its own (and just incase you don't want to read through a long post of notes).

#under the firm belief that mario would just not be able to cope well if he loses someone he loves - ESPECIALLY luigi #mario puts so much pressure on himself #super mario #mario #luigi #the super mario bros movie #super mario movie #mario movie #mario and luigi #separation anxiety #brothers

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commsroom · 3 months

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It’s my birthday too! !! Happy Birthday! I wanted to ask you about Jacobi since he rotates around my brain like he’s on a microwave plate 24/7. Just, general Jacobi thoughts, go crazy , I think about him all the time

yayy, shared birthday!! i hope you had a good one. you're actually the second person who told me it was their birthday too... june 21st birthday club!!

i feel a little guilty saying this, since it was your birthday too, but jacobi is one of my least favorite characters. not to say i don't have things to say about him, but. i don't care for him at all.

some things i can say about jacobi:

i think the most compelling thing about him is that his character arc is a perfect loop back around to his backstory mini episode - two people are dead. he feels responsible. he's out of a job. what now? in things that break other things, he deflects. he rationalizes - "it wasn't anyone's fault; everyone was just doing their jobs" - but is that really true? or is that what he has to tell himself in order to live with himself, and to keep doing the work that he wants to do. when jacobi says "i was wrong and people died, and the only thing i can do is not be wrong again" to kepler in the finale, it's as much about the deaths that weigh on him. maxwell's most of all.

... and i think there's potential for change there, now that he's able to confront it, but in a lot of ways that's the start of a character arc rather than the culmination of one. i will never believe that jacobi wants to spend any more time around minkowski, eiffel, and hera (nor vice versa, really) - they are also the people who killed maxwell to him, and they will never be "his" people. but i think if you were going to write about post-canon jacobi and that theme of survivor's guilt + escaping destructive cycles, lovelace would be a good counterpart to him for that - she's further along on that journey, he expresses a kind of respect and even almost-friendship for her that he doesn't for the rest of the hephaestus crew, and she has a more... biting sense of humor; i think they could actually be friends (or at least narrative parallels) given the right conditions.

and speaking of narrative parallels: he actually has a lot in common with minkowski. jacobi plays at being a rebel, a loose cannon, etc. because it gets people's guards down, but he's very, very patient, calculating, and measured. he is not an impulsive person, and more than that - he's a follower by nature, and a rule follower. jacobi doesn't believe in the "bigger picture" for his own sake, but he is deeply committed to maxwell's bigger picture. he wants to be told what to do, he wants to feel like he has a purpose within a greater system/structure, and - crucially to dirty work - he wants to be able to shirk responsibility when something goes wrong. jacobi craves certainty, he needs that faith in the judgment of the people who give him orders, and i think what dirty work does by positioning jacobi and minkowski as narrative foils highlights a lot of similarities in their faults.

(it does drive me a little crazy when people compare him to eiffel or say they'd get along under different circumstances, like... no? for all his other faults, eiffel is distinctly anti-authoritarian and sincere. they're like, coworkers with different politics who would really rather not speak to each other if at all possible.)

appearance-wise: i firmly believe he needs glasses (the line about his eyesight not quite being good enough is the kind of thing he'd downplay + it's a fun inverse of people drawing maxwell with glasses when she canonically doesn't need them), he has very specific military masculinity issues (thanks to his father) (and gabriel urbina once said jacobi's car is probably the civilian model of something used in the military) so i think he keeps his hair very short, and. i actually don't think he has notable burn scars. i respect that it's a distinct design choice, but canonically i think it makes more thematic sense that he wasn't personally, physically hurt by that accident (and i think someone would probably have made a remark about visible burn scars on the guy insisting he "is that good" with explosives.)

#sorry it's not very affectionate but hopefully it's still interesting. he's just... mean in a way that i don't care for #very can't-engage-with-anything-without-layers-of-irony #and the ways people talk about him often seem very. misaligned with what i see in canon and that confuses me #like he's an MIT grad who made weapons for the US military that's. a real and specific type of guy. i dunno. i don't like when people #joke about him blowing up a hospital that's not funny #(none of this is directed at you of course just. explaining my feelings re: jacobi. i really hope you had a nice birthday!!)#asks

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eremin0109 · 11 months

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@flashbulb-memory about your recent post because I had some THOTS alright.

What the show lacked in terms of plot coherence and characterization, they more than made up for it in the interpersonal relationships and conflicts between not just the main characters but also Gicheol and Junmo's relationships with the secondary characters.

I'm never a fan of love triangles, even less so when it's straight. But there was nothing love triangle-y or remotely heterosexual about the relationships between Gicheol-Junmo-Euijeong.

Gicheol was genuinely in love with both Euijeong and Junmo, that's as clear as day. Euijeong, especially after witnessing Junmo's descent into violence and Gicheol's desperate efforts to leave the underworld behind, had so many conflicted feelings. But some part of her was still in love with Gicheol, she'd kept that damn necklace for years after their parting. But her love for Junmo triumphed that, clouding her rational judgement and forcing her to act impulsively.

Junmo's thing for Gicheol alone could take up an entire post (or 45) of itself, but throughout the finale we get more than a glimpse into what he actually feels for Gicheol. And what he feels is some fucked up rendition of love. He wants to destroy him, he wants to save him. And in the end he does both, at the same time. We're told that Junmo became a monster for Euijeong, but by the end he protected Gicheol just as indiscriminately.

Haeryun is a special case because her relationships are not as intermingled as the main trio. But her dynamic with Junmo is fascinating to watch, it's a mirror to his relationship with Gicheol. She betrays her father for him after watching just how loyal he is to Gicheol. Something that she wants for herself. The matter mostly feels one-sided, but Junmo definitely grows fond of her by the end. He comes to care for her more than he thought he would (he even says that out loud) and I don't think of it in necessarily romantic terms.

When Haeryun says that utterly poignant line about "there's someone I want to protect...in my heart", she's just declaring the essence of the show, explicitly mirroring both Gicheol and Junmo. From her perspective, when Junmo said that, it was only about Gicheol and she says it with a sort of sadness in her voice because somewhere she knows that she can't replace Gicheol in Junmo's life. From her perspective, everything Junmo's done has been only for Gicheol. And everything he has or hasn't done with her has also probably been for him. She just cannot compete. That's why she asks Junmo for one last confession "you've been so kind to me. was any of it real?"

And god, Gicheol's relationships with his crew and Junmo's relationship with Do young are done fantastically too. Jung bae, Hee sung and Jong ryeol all tried their best to save Gicheol from himself (and from both Junmo and Euijeong). Jung bae's scene with Gicheol in his office actually broke me. Hee sung always put the boss and his work before his own damn family. Jong ryeol was actually Gicheol's guard dog, ready to execute any order given to him. And he stayed loyal to him until the very end. Good god they all loved Gicheol the most, they were his actual rocks–but he never even gave them a chance to prove it.

Junmo's brief cameo with his mother-in-law is so beautifully portrayed. It's a small scene but it culminates so poignantly at her funeral. You know exactly why Junmo breaks down the way he does and in that moment, your heart weeps for him. It's that powerful.

All the relationships in the show portray a different kind of a tragedy, because none of them were meant to last. And it's terribly enchanting to watch it all fall apart.

#hooo boy can you tell im sooooo normal about them #i have nothing more to add in the tags I've exhausted all of my worfs #the worst of evil #wi ha joon #ji chang wook

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seriousbrat · 6 months

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what do you think lily's flaws were likely to have been? I hear so many people complain about her being a "Mary Sue" and I feel like it's true that the narrative doesn't really give us problems with her character in the way that it does for James/the other marauders.

Love this question!! I actually think we do see some of Lily's flaws in the narrative, they're just not quite as obvious (or grievous) as Sev's or James's.

In her conversations with Sev in the Prince's Tale, we see that she's willing to overlook pretty unforgivable behaviour because of her friendship with/loyalty towards Sev. He's friends with Mulciber and Avery, he calls the attack on Mary 'a laugh'. In the post-SWM conversation, she displays awareness that Sev calls other people 'mudblood'. Sure, she's not okay with it, but she still tolerates it; it's not until this actively affects her that she decides to end the friendship. I read this as a mixture of naïveté but also just willing blindness. She knows better deep down, but chooses to ignore it because of her love for Sev.

Another thing Lily-haters tend to harp on is her defending James, Sev's bully, to him in this conversation. And I do somewhat agree (although I think it's ridiculous to hold this as worse than everything Sev does to her) but I think it's another sign of her willingness to overlook certain behaviours that she shouldn't. She wants to believe that there's good in everyone because that's easier than facing reality. I don't read this line as 'you should forgive James for everything', I read it more as 'why can't everyone get along because that would be easier than dealing with conflict'. In some ways she's right, because there is good in both Sev and James-- it's somehow both her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. This blind trust is what gets her killed, it's what causes her so much pain in SWM, but it's also what saves her son in the end.

Another thing I think we see in SWM is her temper. Like I've said I think Harry gets his anger issues from Lily rather than from James, and I think she's impulsive, reckless, quick to anger. She leads with her heart. It would have been more rational to get a teacher but she dives into the confrontation personally. She insults both James and Sev pretty viciously in this scene (totally deserved, but still). Her giant squid rant is not some well thought out moral indictment of James's character or actions but an emotional response, a personal attack borne of anger. It's very similar to Harry's numerous all caps rages throughout OotP in which he takes out his anger on the people around him.

When thinking about Lily I think it's fair to extrapolate from Harry's character, because they're meant to be similar. Thematically, DH is largely about Harry realising that he's much more like Lily than he realised. Dumbledore says he was counting on Hermione to slow Harry down: Harry represents the intuitive approach, Hermione the logical. Too much reliance on intuition can't save the day, but neither can too much reliance on logic. It's about balance. Sev is the Hermione to Lily-- his learned ability to put aside his emotional needs and impulses for the greater good is ultimately how Lily protects her son through him.

#lily evans #that got long sorry but it always does when i talk about lily lol #or about anything. ive got to have my little essays #also i'm not saying harry's behaviour isn't understandable!!! it totally is im a harry defender 4life #but it is a flaw that he has.#i honestly see lily as more reckless than james weirdly enough. like i think james deep down is fairly pragmatic and thoughtful #he just represses this part of himself as a teen because he doesn't value it #this is the difference btwn him and sirius. sirius didn't think about the consequences of the prank. james immediately grasped them.#'the risk would have made it fun for james' not adult james. not james who faced voldemort to buy his wife and child time to escape #but sirius is so stuck in the past that he glorifies teenage james rather than learning the same lessons #again i think this is understandable given what sirius has been through. but ultimately irresponsible #meta #lily

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deltaruminations · 3 months

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i may or may not ever post a full-on Essay about my Tree Man As Gaster's Shadow reading or whatever. but here is a summary of some of the main points

i'm not exactly an expert in analytical psychology jungian bullshit but i'll try to represent this concept as well as i can from a strictly literary perspective lol. but basically, the shadow is kind of a model of repression (or suppression, or disownership) of personality traits, representing blind spots in one’s self-perception. These blind spots encompass aspects that are part of a personality, but are inconsistent with that person’s own self-concept; if the person were to see these aspects in themself, it would undermine their conscious sense of self. To protect that self-concept, their mind pushes awareness of these aspects into an unconscious space, where they come to comprise the shadow. If, for example, someone were to see themself as being highly rational and stoic, their shadow might encompass their irrationality and sentimentality.

While the shadow is typically unseen, it’s still present — those aspects are still part of the personality — and this causes conflict with the conscious self-concept. in theory, it's through acknowledging and understanding the shadow (“assimilating” it) that one is able to manage and reduce that conflict.

Typically one would encounter their shadow in projecting it onto other people, but in this context it might be more literal — rather than a projection, the shadow is straight-up just a separate entity, acting on its own. this in particular is consistent with Jung's idea that the shadow can be encountered in dreams, in the form of “dark figures” of the same gender as the dreamer (paraphrased from Wikipedia’s paraphrasing of Jung. lmao).

spr_mysteryman could be said to have two faces. for our purposes here, we'll say that the "dominant" or primary face represents the persona (the “mask,” or social role), and the reversed, less obvious face represents the shadow. In shattering, Gaster’s personality was split across two separate actors: Mysterious Voice reflects the impulses and perspectives of the persona, while Tree Man reflects those of the shadow. we could maybe say abstractly that "Gaster" exists between them, and that these "pieces" are in some kind of power struggle over that core personality. "Gaster" as he once was may not presently exist, at least in a way that we've personally met -- it's possible that the only example of dialogue we currently have from a Complete Gaster is ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN.

from here on, we're going to assume that Tree Man wrote the Weird Valentine. i originally jotted down a ton of bullet points as to why i think it's reasonable to conflate the Letter Writer with Tree Man with A Gaster but i don't feel like trying to edit them into anything legible right now so. just roll with me on this lol

As the persona, Mysterious Voice carries the idea of Being Gaster. He knows of his identity as Gaster, because the purpose of Gaster’s persona is to represent Gaster – his name, his profession, his place in the world, the expectations he thinks others should have of him – and to meet those expectations. He’s everything A Gaster is “supposed” to be, at least externally. Mysterious Voice is not just Wingdings The Guy, but Dr. W.D. Gaster, the Royal Scientist. He has to be unfailingly stoic, rational, and professional. His priority is the Work; he has to see the Work succeed, though he may not remember – at least on a visceral level – why the Work mattered in the first place.

As the shadow, Tree Man may not be aware of Being Gaster, because the purpose of Gaster’s shadow is to be hidden from Gaster. He’s everything A Gaster isn’t “supposed” to be, everything that’s inconvenient to the idea and function of A Gaster, yet is a real part of him despite this. where MV is highly guarded in his self-presentation (extremely formal, speaks in a way that betrays as little information as possible about his personality or genuine emotions) and maintains a high degree of control over our access to him (only appearing on his own terms), Tree Man is friendly, forthcoming, and actively delights in being sought out. where MV seems to be fully lucid and cogent, Tree Man seems to bear the brunt of a "shattered" perspective, with a disordered sense of time and even "space" (ex., transposing words and phrases). Where MV betrays very little emotion, Tree Man is consistently associated with emotion -- repeatedly described as looking "happy," being forthcoming with his philosophies on "love," etc. Maybe the reason why the Weird Valentine seems simultaneously Gaster-y as hell yet bizarrely inconsistent with what we've seen of the Mysterious Voice's characterization is because it is nearly a 180 in personality. the shadow is inherently incongruous with the persona – that’s why it’s the shadow in the first place.

We also see Tree Man's "shadow"-ness in how he manifests in-game as a glitch in Mysterious Voice’s program, something that isn’t “supposed” to be there, but nonetheless is; he isn’t visible (yet) and has no in-game “voice” (yet), but he still forces his way through the cracks. He's in a type of conflict with Mysterious Voice, undermining his control over the game by encouraging the player to behave in illogical, non-prescribed ways (the type of behavior that leads, for example, to a Weird Route), though this doesn’t seem to be motivated by malice or a specific desire for conflict so much as a simple need to be acknowledged and engaged with -- to "connect."

it's possible that Tree Man is less operating on a coherent "plan" (in the way Mysterious Voice seems to be) and more that he's acting on whims related to a sense memory of whatever the Complete Gaster's motivations might have been. where Mysterious Voice remembers What he means to do (create the program, find a NEW FUTURE, etc.), Tree Man remembers Why he means to do it; that is, he's able to access the emotional underpinnings of the mission, even if he can't access the rational logic of it -- ex., he remembers wanting to help someone (a feeling of compassion) even if he doesn't remember the specific identity of this person.

if we put stock in the "shadow" model, then what this all suggests is that the theoretical Complete Gaster encompasses both "rational" and "irrational" traits -- but the latter set of traits (including, possibly: sentimentality, whimsy, compassion, interpersonal curiosity, and emotional vulnerability) has been disowned and disempowered, while the former set of traits (broadly speaking, strict self-control and focused prioritization of a "professional" goal) currently has control over the project -- something that may ultimately be to the detriment of both Gaster and his project. the threat posed by Tree Man to "Gaster" is a loss of control, possibly in the form of emotional overwhelm, the pains of trauma or guilt or regret, or the inconvenience of a moral compass, and so on; but without these traits, MV/"Gaster" might be prone to decisions that are callous, unimaginative, or otherwise harmful and unproductive, because he's forgotten what the project meant to him as a Person, and not simply as a Professional.

consider that interacting with Tree Man in chapter 1 causes him to appear outside the tree room in chapter 2 (in a car stuck in traffic), whether or not Egg was even received -- does simply acknowledging and engaging with Tree Man empower him? does it make him more visible and harder to suppress? Egg itself is described as being “not too important, not too unimportant"; maybe Egg is important in that it motivates us to find and interact with him, but it’s not inherently important on its own. It’s simply… ha ha… it’s s-simply… ha ha ha… it’s… EGGING US ON…

anyway. we could guess that Tree Man's intention to Help Someone has a double meaning -- ultimately, Gaster's goal is to help someone else; but before that can really be accomplished, "Gaster" needs to help himself by acknowledging and assimilating the part of himself that frightens him, the part that threatens his Control, and be put back together -- not physically, but psychologically. "tear off the mask beneath your face" and so on lol

ok that's it. GOOD BY........

#long post #wd gaster #$ 666 mystery man lore hell #$ chadley deltaruminations original lorepost corner #deltarune

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thefeathercollective · 1 year

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we're 99.9% sure that portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa was plural.

okay uh disclaimer. we're not a psychology or literature expert by any means. we rarely even read poetry. we only heard of this guy in high school literature class and the thought stuck with us and then we found plausible evidence lmao. also, as a plural system ourselves, we're clearly biased.

and a considerable amount of this post will be sourced from wikipedia. and this is the first time we've made a post like this. please don't come after us I'm just writing this for fun lmao

huge ramble ahead!

who even was that man

Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa (Portuguese: [fɨɾˈnɐ̃du pɨˈsoɐ]; 13 June 1888 – 30 November 1935) was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic, translator, publisher, and philosopher, described as one of the most significant literary figures of the 20th century and one of the greatest poets in the Portuguese language. He also wrote in and translated from English and French.

yeah that's who the man was. but what really sparked our interest in him during class and made us wonder if he was plural were his...

✨heteronyms✨

y'know pseudonyms? when someone writes under a different name than their own for whatever reason? these are similar, but the catch is that the different names have different personalities, supposed appearances, philosophies, all that shit.

the term was coined by Pessoa himself, and his heteronyms were written as if they were real people. they had detailed careers, histories, etc. he had at least 70, although I vaguely remember some other source estimating it at around 100.

"but eva, these could just be OCs or something!",

he had 3 main ones though, being Alberto Caeiro (known for interpreting the world as-is, without greater meaning or anything, like some sorta anti-poet), Álvaro de Campos (a naval engineer who even had multiple phases in his philosophy) and Ricardo Reis (who wrote with a lot of structure and rationality, and was very pessimistic).

I predict someone typing. to that, I begin my endless copy-paste + ramble about all the things that make us think the heteronyms were headmates.

I'll throw in a section of a letter Pessoa wrote to some other poet (bolding the parts I find relevant because I don't love walls of text lmao)

How do I write in the name of these three? Caeiro, through sheer and unexpected inspiration, without knowing or even suspecting that I'm going to write in his name. Ricardo Reis, after an abstract meditation, which suddenly takes concrete shape in an ode. Campos, when I feel a sudden impulse to write and don't know what. (My semi-heteronym Bernardo Soares, who in many ways resembles Álvaro de Campos, always appears when I'm sleepy or drowsy, so that my qualities of inhibition and rational thought are suspended; his prose is an endless reverie. He's a semi-heteronym because his personality, although not my own, doesn't differ from my own but is a mere mutilation of it. He's me without my rationalism and emotions. His prose is the same as mine, except for certain formal restraint that reason imposes on my own writing, and his Portuguese is exactly the same – whereas Caeiro writes bad Portuguese, Campos writes it reasonably well but with mistakes such as "me myself" instead of "I myself", etc.., and Reis writes better than I, but with a purism I find excessive…)

so not only does he describe writing Caeiro completely unexpectedly, he also gives the same sort of opinion about his heteronyms' writings that we've seen (and experienced) plural folks give about their headmates' typing or drawing styles.

hell, "writes better than I but with a purism I find excessive" is exactly my opinion of lynn when he does our assignments lmao

the semi-heteronym surfacing when Pessoa is sleepy could be some sorta dissociative state that lets a headmate come through, be it straight-up fronting or passive influence... but I'm probably forcing it too much here.

uhhh here's something on the heteronym thing from some guy called richard zenish. I bolded some parts again

For each of his 'voices', Pessoa conceived a highly distinctive poetic idiom and technique, a complex biography, a context of literary influence and polemics and, most arrestingly of all, subtle interrelations and reciprocities of awareness. [...] Pessoa was often unsure who was writing when he wrote, and it's curious that the very first item among the more than 25,000 pieces that make up his archives in the National Library of Lisbon bears the heading A. de C. (?) or B. de D. (or something else).

"okay.... they could still be characters though"

the heteronyms were aware of and sometimes interacted between themselves. wikipedia's list of Pessoa's heteronyms even has the man himself as a heteronym and pupil of Alberto Caeiro, although I don't feel like going after the source for that bit.

dear hypothetical person I'm quoting here, you're entitled to your opinion. but how about we take, say... a more DID/OSDD-y approach to things? because there's things that hint that Fernando Pessoa's plurality could be traumagenic and/or disordered too.

When Pessoa was five, his father, Joaquim de Seabra Pessôa, died of tuberculosis and less than seven months later his younger brother Jorge, aged one, also died (2 January 1889).

(written by himself about himself:) Nothing had ever obliged him to do anything. He had spent his childhood alone. He never joined any group. He never pursued a course of study. He never belonged to a crowd. The circumstances of his life were marked by that strange but rather common phenomenon – perhaps, in fact, it's true for all lives – of being tailored to the image and likeness of his instincts, which tended towards inertia and withdrawal.

(written by a schoolfellow:) For one of his age, he thought much and deeply and in a letter to me once complained of "spiritual and material encumbrances of most especial adverseness". He took no part in athletic sports of any kind and I think his spare time was spent on reading. We generally considered that he worked far too much and that he would ruin his health by so doing.

so childhood trauma, check...? at the very least this stuff doesn't sound very good for a child's mental health.

Pessoa's earliest heteronym, at the age of six, was Chevalier de Pas. Other childhood heteronyms included Dr. Pancrácio and David Merrick, followed by Charles Robert Anon, a young Englishman who became Pessoa's alter ego.

"I can remember what I believe was my first heteronym, or rather, my first nonexistent acquaintance — a certain Chevalier de Pas — through whom I wrote letters to myself when I was six years old, and whose not entirely hazy figure still has a claim on the part of my affections that borders on nostalgia. I have a less vivid memory of another figure . . . who was a kind of rival to the Chevalier de Pas. Such things occur to all children ? Undoubtedly — or perhaps. But I lived them so intensely that I live them still; their memory is so strong that I have to remind myself that they weren’t real."

oh I just found some spiritual stuff too

the appearance of the first heteronym was after his family members died so that's one thing... and like, that's not just one childhood heteronym but at least four. and well, to me they sound a bit too vivid for your average imaginary friend.

Pessoa's interest in spiritualism was truly awakened in the second half of 1915, while translating theosophist books. This was further deepened in the end of March 1916, when he suddenly started having experiences where he believed he became a medium, having experimented with automatic writing. [...] Besides automatic writing, Pessoa stated also that he had "astral" or "etherial visions" and was able to see "magnetic auras" similar to radiographic images. [...] Mediumship exerted a strong influence in Pessoa's writings, who felt "sometimes suddenly being owned by something else" or having a "very curious sensation" in the right arm, which was "lifted into the air" without his will. Looking in the mirror, Pessoa saw several times what appeared to be the heteronyms: his "face fading out" and being replaced by the one of "a bearded man", or another one, four men in total.

........

man, this wikipedia article is extensive and full of stuff that supports our silly little theory, huh.

yeah, so he attributed it to spiritual reasons which is fair and valid, but... "owned by something else" all of a sudden? the thing with the right arm sounding a lot like partial possession in tulpamancy? seeing his heteronyms' faces in the mirror?

yeahhhh.

(I'm guessing the magnetic aura thing could be some sorta derealization, contributing to the he-was-a-dissociative-system hypothesis, but that's yet another stretch on my part.)

(plus, spiritual plurality is a thing.)

oh! this thing he wrote sounds a lot like it too.

"This tendency to create around me another world . . . began in me as a young adult, when a witty remark that was completely out of keeping with who I am or think I am would sometimes and for some unknown reason occur to me, and I would immediately, spontaneously say it as if it came from some friend of mine whose name I would invent, along with biographical details, and whose figure — physiognomy, stature, dress and gestures — I would immediately see before me."

let's just do a quick google..

am I biased? yes, very much so. but y'know. you can see I have my reasons.

to see if any people with more qualifications than we have think the same about Fernando Pessoa possibly being plural lmao.

...oh, yes. contrary to what we thought a couple years ago when we had that class about the guy, other people have indeed thought the same. and written about it.

keywords "fernando pessoa mpd" give us:

this paper from 2012 (in portuguese) that... well, I *think* it claims he had mpd but it's very convoluted and abstract about it

this little... forum post? from 2009 that quotes a dead link :v

this one seems kinda cool. it regards Pessoa's positive approach to his heteronym-having as a creative condion called Pessoa Syndrome, and later mentions some Multiple Personality Order (not disorder). don't love some of its wording about mental disorders and madness... it's good to see someone consider healthy multiplicity as a thing that exists, though. it also claims Pessoa became someone with multiple personalities through his heteronymic writing, which is yet another possible origin I hadn't considered before for some fucking reason.

this one cites a dissociative process

this one straight up calls it "subject plurality"!

conclusion ig. I'm pretending to be organized here.

other keywords (like "fernando pessoa dissociative") provide some more results :0 but I've been writing this post for far too long now and would rather not read through more odd wording lmao

it really surprises me that wikipedia doesn't mention the possibility at all from what I've read and ctrl+F'ed. I thought we were being a conspiracy theorist about it but then I found even more stuff to back us up, including other people's analyses. so that's nice.

and I think this kind of thing, of plurals of the past, should be talked about more in the community. it's really interesting to say the least.

...

how does one even end a post like this one.

uhh thanks for reading!!

#eva.headmate #pluralgang #plurality #plural community #plural system

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happyk44 · 7 months

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Okay before I go into the ASPD thing, wanna do a quick summary of what I have so far:

Zeus/Jupiter: OCPD and Autism (based on being the god of law and order, and justice, as well as king of Olympus)

Poseidon: BPD and ASPD (based on the idea of a moody and volatile sea)

Neptune: SZPD and ASPD (based on the idea of an emotionless and uncaring sea)

Ares: IED and ASPD (self-explanatory)

Hades/Pluto and Thanatos/Mors: infertility, and, in rare cases, sterility (self-explanatory)

Hypnos/Somnus, Morpheus, and the Oneiroi/Somnia: Excessive daytime sleepiness, maladaptive daydreaming (self-explanatory, have also been thinking about STPD and DPDR)

Aphrodite/Venus and other similar deities: Hypersexuality, NPD, BPD and HPD (first one is self-explanatory, I'm still thinking about the other three and might do a separate post about them at some point, also considering Body Dysmorphia but I have to do some thinking on that one as well)

Hermes/Mercury: Kleptomania (self-explanatory)

Now! Onto the main point: propensity of Antisocial Personality Disorder in children of the sea and children of war.

First things first, please check out @neurosharky! He has a lot of good posts discussing his experience with ASPD, and I found them very helpful in framing understanding around the diagnostic criteria.

The DSM-5 describes, "Antisocial Personality Disorder is characterized by a pervasive pattern of disregard for consequences and for the rights of others." It can only be diagnosed in people 18 years and older, and patients must have evidence of a conduct disorder being present before 15. They must show three or more of the following symptoms:

Disregard of the law, typically indicates by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning other for personal gain or pleasure

Acting impulsively, or not planning ahead

Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

(Side note: the diagnostic criteria is so... idk, something about the phrasing makes me laugh)

Personally, I don't think Percy has ASPD. From my interpretation of canon, I think he cares and thinks too much of people. Not to say that people with ASPD can't care or think of other people, but from a "disregards the rights of other people", I don't think Percy fits. He does rise to anger quickly, and doesn't think much of his own safety, imo, so there are traits there but that's likely more related to BPD.

Now - the ocean, Poseidon, Neptune, Amphitrite, other ocean gods out there, my beloveds, they can be angry uncaring beauties. As I've discussed before and mentioned above, in PJO canon, I interpret Poseidon as being representative of the moody, ever-changing sea, hence the BPD. He's clingy, demanding, quick to anger, volatile, emotional, dramatic.

In PJO, the Romans eschew the ocean, so Neptune, although we never see him in canon, comes across as the opposite. He's detached from society, doesn't care about the people who cross his waters, doesn't care if you live or die, little emotion, flat, bored - so SZPD.

Their destructive ways are different across these lines as well. Poseidon will drown you because you've pissed him off and Neptune will drown you because he doesn't care enough to save you, no matter how hard you pray.

How does ASPD play into this? Think about the commonalities in both representations of the ocean - it will kill you without thought. It is unapologetic. A moody ocean will hurt you, an uncaring ocean will hurt you. Another thing I've come across is that ASPD is a defense against being controlled. You can't control the ocean! It does what it wants, and fuck you for thinking you're in charge of the seas.

Additionally, in SZPD, while alexithymia is common, most people appear to feel anger much more strongly than other emotions. Which makes sense, imo, anger is a very strong emotion and easier, for me at least, to make sense of. In BPD and ASPD, being quick to anger is fairly common. BPD and ASPD share impulsivity as a symptom as well.

Low empathy and little to no emotion is also a shared trait in ASPD and SZPD, as well as a detachment from society. For SZPD, it typically appears as a detachment from emotional connection, relationships, and/or socialization. For ASPD, it's more of a detachment from social rules. People with SZPD are asocial, people with ASPD are... well, antisocial, lol. People often mistake the latter for the former, but asocial is a preference for solitude and antisocial is a disregard for the feelings and wellbeing of other people.

So that's the ocean. Some ideas of how the comorbidities may present:

Coral is a daughter of Neptune with extreme SZPD. She has little interest in societal rules, and little understanding of morality and ethics. However, she - as much as she can with her SZPD - cares for her mom, and thus does her best to follow the rules her mom has explained or laid out for her. She doesn't have much capacity for remorse or guilt, and will hurt people without much regard for them. However, she purposely avoids interacting with others and so rarely is the instigating cause.

Melpomene is a daughter of Neptune with more prominent ASPD traits and SZPD. She has less severe alexithymia, and is easily prone to anger. She doesn't start fights, but she doesn't back down from them. If you fuck with her, she'll fuck with you. She has a basic, albeit still small, sense of morality, but lacks a code of ethics and the motivation to adhere to it. She does not care about other people's safety and will abandon them to their doom. This overlaps with her SZPD because she finds emotional responses uncomfortable and stressful, so panic and distress in others turns her away. Her detachment from people leads her to lie and manipulate people, typically to make them go away (SZPD) or put them in harm's way for the fun of it , or as revenge due to seeing them as trying to control her (ASPD).

In a child of Poseidon with BPD traits, ASPD may present simultaneously with a fear of abandonment that causes them to react violently towards whatever or whoever they perceive is causing the abandonment. They may disregard that person's safety and rights in order to keep them close at hand (think kidnapping, or physical harm rendering them immobile and dependent). They can rationalize their actions away (I need you, you're not allowed leave me, etc etc). Splitting may provoke their anger issues. Intense emotional mood swings might cause them to instigate or pick fights, and impulsive behaviour can lead to breaking various laws and ignoring their own safety.

I don't think any personality disorder is mutually exclusive to one another. There might be some that are more uncommon to be comorbid with one another, but I've seen discussion that comorbidity between personality disorders (i.e. having more than one) is fairly common. And in doing research into various personality disorders, I've seen a lot of people say things like, "SZPD with OCPD traits" - situations where they don't meet the full qualification for the second personality disorder, those traits aren't intense enough to be considered considered/presumably, or the secondary traits appear to stem primarily from their initial personality disorder rather than being it's own thing. So there's that too.

So yeah, think of the ocean. The beautiful, uncontrollable, dangerous, salty ocean.

Now for Ares and his kids. I separate Ares from Mars because Mars is considered more disciplined than Ares, he was less of bloodlust god, more orderly and held in higher regard than his Greek counterpart, and I prefer to view him that way in PJO canon.

So IED (intermittent explosive disorder) and ASPD are fairly self-explanatory in regards to the god of war and bloodlust, a deity noted to personify brutality and savageness. But I'll detail some stuff anyway!

The first child of Ares we meet is Clarisse. And the first thing she does when we meet her is bully Percy. The second thing she, and other members of her cabin do, is try to injure him during the Capture the Flag game. Someone (Percy, I think, I don't have the book on hand) points out that they'll get trouble for hurting him and she just shrugs it off.

So that's: disregard of other people's safety, easily provoked, rationalizing away the mistreatment of others (he deserves it for humiliating her), acting impulsively and not planning ahead (did they think about what would happen if Percy were seriously injured as a new camper with minimal training? what if someone interrupted them before Percy blew up the river? what was the end goal to hurting him?), disregarding the camp rules

Now I think part of the reason ASPD is not diagnosed in people under 18 is because, like we see with Clarisse in canon, some people grow out of their behaviour. With her, and probably much of her cabin, their anger issues - which I believe is something they have a higher propensity for as well, and that they share it with their Roman half-siblings - causes them to bully and hurt others.

A lot of personality disorders develop from trauma, and we also know Clarisse was abused in some way by her dad (re: Sea of Monsters) so her reactions towards other people may stem from that. Before 18 their behaviour is typically diagnosed as a conduct disorder, to which I imagine treatment and intervention is attempted to hopefully avoid it continuing into ASPD by adulthood. According to some quick research, about 25% to 40% of children with a conduct disorder are typically diagnosed with ASPD in adulthood.

I think it would be really interesting if Clarisse didn't age out of her aggressive behaviour, and maintained ASPD traits into adulthood. I guess a neat concept would be Silena managing to sort of "soften" that side of her, and then, in BoTL, when she's caring for Chris, it's a moment of "I will be better for them". So she works hard to keep her traits at bay, because she wants to be a morally good person for these two people that she loves - even if she still is an amoral person.

It would be cool if she and Percy talked about it. I tend to view him as a fairly amoral person as well, ascribing to the moral view of the people he cares about (his mom, Grover, Annabeth). So maybe after a spar, she asks how it's so easy for him to be so stubborn about right or wrong and he's just, "Well, I love my mom and the idea of disappointing her fills me with a dread so intense I want to vomit and/or kill myself."

"Gods, that sounds like shit."

"Yeah, it's not the greatest."

"I can't imagine being afraid of disappointing someone. But... I guess I do like making Chris happy. He's got cute dimples, you know?"

"Focus on that. Would beating the shit out of some newbie punk make him happy? Would it show his dimples?"

"... probably not. Ugh. This shit is hard."

"But you can do it."

"Yeah, I fucking can. What, you think I'm a wimp? Can't tough out being a normal person for my boyfriend?"

"... Yes."

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Not if I kill you first."

So those are my thoughts on the propensity of developing ASPD or traits of ASPD in demigods. For Poseidon/Neptune, it represents the uncaring, angry, and remorseless nature of the ocean. For Ares, it represents the brutality and bloodthirstiness of war.

Again, if you have any thoughts on anything that you think the nature of certain gods may cause their kids to be predisposed to, feel free to hit me up with your thoughts! It's probably pretty obvious to the people who follow me (see my recent ramblings about the Roman trio and their dissociation and literally everything I've ever written about Jason being raised by wolves 😂), but I love analyzing shit like this!

#percy jackson #clarisse la rue #antisocial personality disorder #schizoid personality disorder #borderline personality disorder #personality disorders #happy talks pjo #daughters of neptune #happy rambles about mental health #aspd!clarisse

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