#Netflix Shadow and Bone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lilu787788 · 2 months ago

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I’ve been thinking a lot about why some younger viewers seem to express such intense hatred for Aleksander, and even for those who love or support him. It’s something I notice more and more often — this aggressive, almost moralistic rejection of morally grey characters like Aleksander. And I don’t think it’s just about disliking him. There’s something deeper going on in how fandom spaces function today.

A large part of it, I believe, comes from the way stories are consumed online now. Platforms like TikTok or Twitter encourage fast takes, simplified narratives, and black-and-white ideas of who is “good” and who is “bad.” People aren’t always interested in nuance anymore. It’s easier to reduce someone like the Darkling to a red flag or a toxic man than to sit with the discomfort of a character who does morally questionable things, but also loves, suffers, and fights for a better life for the Grisha and all of Ravka. Grey areas are not trending. Moral certainty is.

I’ve also noticed a dominant narrative — the girlboss versus let’s say villain storyline. Those young people want Alina, Zoya, Genya to “free themselves” from him, and in doing so, they erase what was truly complex, painful, and layered between them. The romanticization of strength often forgets that real strength can come from understanding, not just rejection. And sadly, if you dare say you understand Aleksander or believe he had genuine feelings for Alina, you’re suddenly accused of romanticizing abuse. There is no space for symbolic storytelling or fictional dynamics that aren’t meant to mirror real-life healthy relationships.

Another issue is the casual misuse of psychological terminology. Words like “manipulator,” “gaslighter,” and “grooming” are thrown around without understanding their meaning. These young fans just follow the crowd and, like a frenzied inquisition, throw accusations. Aleksander is a character shaped by centuries of trauma, loneliness, and war. But instead of examining that, some people just diagnose him in fifteen seconds on TikTok and declare him irredeemable. It’s lazy, dishonest, and more importantly, it shuts down real conversation. I also think some people need to feel like they’re on the “right side.” If they hate the Darkling, they can prove they’re morally superior. In my opinion, that points to low self-esteem. It makes liking him feel like a flaw, or worse, a crime. In some fandom spaces, it turns into a ridiculous purity contest.

And if your interpretation doesn’t fit the mainstream narrative, suddenly you become a bad person. It’s such a toxic dynamic, especially when fiction is meant to give us a space to explore difficult things.

Honestly, I think many misunderstandings around Aleksander come from people who’ve never had to think deeply about war, power, or survival. People don’t relate to the Darkling just because he’s charming or a tragic figure. A A lot of us understand him because we know what it means to live in a world shaped by conflict — to watch systems collapse, to see the innocent suffer while leaders look the other way. And even if not, basic human empathy and emotional maturity, combined with historical knowledge, allow us to see more and, most of all, to avoid jumping to judgment. We don’t behave like an angry mob with pitchforks ready to burn someone at the stake. On a side note, I’ve been thinking about doing a post that points out how some parts of the fandom — especially certain Crows, Zoya, Nikolai, Genya, and Malina fans — act a lot like the Drüskelle.

Aleksander is not a villain. He is someone forged in blood and fire, who made impossible choices in a world that gave him none. People who have studied or lived close to the realities of war know that moral clarity is a luxury. He also fought for people who were hunted, tortured, erased. He refused to stand by while Grisha were murdered, burned at the stake, dissected like lab animals, or sold into slavery. And even though his methods became brutal, his cause was never about selfish gain. It was about protecting people like him in a world that never would.

Loving the Darkling is about recognizing the complexity of someone who stood between oppression and survival. It’s about understanding that some stories aren’t clean, and some leaders don’t have the luxury of kindness. Aleksander’s tragedy is that he knew he had to become a monster to stop the world from killing his people. And whether you agree with him or not, that kind of narrative deserves respect, not shallow rejection.

Fiction should be a place where we can explore those hard truths. Not everything is meant to make us feel safe. Some characters exist to make us think, not just to give us flashy action scenes or quick thrills. Let people explore stories the way they need to. Let them love the characters who challenge them. You don’t have to agree. Sometimes it’s just fiction and sometimes it’s the way we try to understand our own shadows.

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petertingle-yipyip · 3 months ago

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DADDY ISSUES - KAZ BREKKER

Pairing: established Kaz x Reader // Word Count: 2,989

Summary (request): Hello… I hope you are doing well… I wonder if there could be any chance I can request Kaz Brekker x wife reader, where reader comes from really shitty background (her mom hanged herself, her father is abusive) and she never talked about it much and always helped Kaz build himself back before her, but now it kinda turns around… maybe make it a little angst, like they get in fight about it and the reader just breaks down thinking Kaz will left like everyone else did… hope it’s not to complicated… thank you <3 // couple slight tweaks (forgot it was a wife!request tbh). hope you enjoy! and the title was simply for the vibes, idk

Life in the Barrel was its own hellscape. You never denied or argued that point. Instead, you tried to find your own little bright spots.

You had friends, a crew that’d go to war for you. And lucky you, that crew turned out to be the most feared and respected in Ketterdam.

Not that you knew that when you joined. In the beginning, it was just a way to find a new life. You weren’t even looking for safer or better, just new. Your mother, Saints rest her soul, had been through the ringer. Your father, may he rot in Hell, was as vile as they came. He lost money on gambling, spent nights upon nights upon nights at the Pleasure Houses, drank himself stupid, all to come home and beat down you and your mother. The night your mother tried to fight back and protect you both, your father made a scene. He played innocent, ran into the streets calling for Stadwatch and that your mother was hysterical. The next night, your mother found herself on a short path to the end of a rope.

Your father called it a warning. You called it a threat.

That was when you ran. You packed whatever fit in your bag and ran. You ended up meeting another runaway, a criminally smart boy named Wylan. He didn’t speak much at first, but you two roomed together for a little while during your stint at the dye factory. He was called upon by the Crows first.

You lingered around the Club after that, wondering if they’d take you in too. One of them must’ve took pity on you because when you went back to your musty little lodging, the Wraith was waiting with an offer.

Your life seemed to turn around after that. You turned out to be quite the strategist. Within a few months, you had worked your way to being Kaz’s go-to for when he was mentally stuck. You saw things differently than he did and it made for good conversations and optimal plans for jobs. Whenever you two put your heads together, you were unstoppable.

Naturally, you two drew close and ended up together. You also learned the hard way that Kaz was his own brand of crazy. It took digging and prying and more patience than you thought you had, but he eventually told you everything. It was so much more than you expected and explained a lot of why Kaz was the way he was. But with some not-so-gentle coaxing, you managed to get him to agree to baby steps which grew to strides which grew to leaps and bounds.

With careful feints and evasions, you managed to keep the details of your childhood away from everyone. Even Kaz. When they asked about your parents, you simply said Mom was dead and Dad was long gone. Where were you from? Here, there, wherever the wind blows in from.

By some miracle, you could touch Kaz in practically any sense and he would hardly react. He could touch you willingly, and he did often. Loosely hooking his fingers through yours, a lazy arm around your waist, his chin atop your head when you leaned against him in your booth at the Club.

Inej said he smiled more after you arrived. Nina said she’d never heard an honest laugh until you. Even Jesper said you softened Kaz’s rough edges, not all but enough to notice.

Admittedly, it was nice to be needed. To be wanted. It was so blessedly refreshing.

Until one night, you were suddenly a little kid again, cowering in your mother’s skirts.

You recognized his voice before you saw him. His deep, angry voice rumbled through the Crow Club and you immediately tensed in the booth. You believed he was dead. You used to pray for it. It seemed the Saints didn’t offer you that mercy after all.

Miraculously, Kaz was too enthralled in his debate with Jesper to notice.

Your eyes frantically scanned the crowd, looking at every table for the culprit. When you had checked everywhere, you thought you had imagined it. Someone else with a similar timbre had to be there instead. You sucked in a deep breath, counting off numbers in your head as a distraction, until he practically fell onto the table.

You flinched hard and it instantly drew Kaz’s attention. You stayed frozen, as if your father wouldn’t notice you if you didn’t move. You saw Jesper draw a pistol on reflex and Wylan shot you a worried look.

Wylan was the only one who knew the extent of your childhood trauma, and that was only because he came back to your shared room to you sobbing on your mother’s birthday one night. You spilled your secrets and he hesitantly shared his.

“I can’t be here.” You squeaked, trying to scoot out the booth. Your chest was growing uncomfortably tight and your blood was rushing in your ears.

“I’ll walk with you.” Wylan stood.

“No.” Kaz said firmly. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was giving the back of your head that calculating, suspicious look. “I’ll go. Jesper, get rid of him.”

“Yes, Boss.” Jesper answered.

You tried to make yourself scarce as you heard Jesper telling your father to move. A small clatter later and a large hand, too large to be Kaz’s, locked around your upper arm and yanked you back. You stumbled over your own feet and were pushed against the table’s edge. You closed your eyes tightly, your head dropping immediately. All you wanted was to be as small as possible.

“All this time…” Your father sneered. You could smell the liquor on his breath. “You’ve been here?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You had no voice. All you could think about were the tears burning behind your closed lids. You simply shook your head, but it wasn’t good enough.

“You’re a coward then, hmm? What happened to all the giggles and flirts these men got, huh? Just like your tramp of a mother.”

Your father shook you and you let out a panicked whimper. You tried to pry his fingers loose but it was useless.

“I suggest you let her go.” Jesper said firmly and you heard the hammer of his pistol. “Before this gets ugly.”

“This doesn’t concern you.” Your father spat. “It’s between me and my daughter.”

“Daughter?”

“What? Can’t see the resemblance?” Your father’s hand tightly gripped your cheeks but you jerked your face away.

“You can’t grab on her like that!” Wylan argued and slammed his fist against the table.

Bless his heart, you thought. Saints, don’t let my father hurt them.

“My friends are right.” Kaz spoke calmly. “Seeing as this is my Club and that is my Crow you’re harassing, I’d very much say this concerns me. If you don’t want to lose that hand, remove it. Now.”

You forced your eyes open but couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on his cane. His shoes. You itched to reach out for him, to fold yourself into the safety of his embrace. An embrace that only you had the privilege of experiencing. But your father’s bulky frame was firmly in the way.

Had he gotten fatter? You had half a mind to say so and laugh, but you knew that was a quick way to a broken nose. You’d never forget the crack of your mother’s when she made an off-hand comment about his waistline one night.

“Mind your own, boy.” Your father spat at Kaz’s feet.

You gasped slightly and Kaz simply chuckled. That delightfully ominous sound was your saving grace. Most men would have apologized, begged forgiveness and swore some sort of penance, but not your father. No, he was stupid and stubborn. He was going to get what was coming to him, albeit less than he deserved in your opinion.

“Oh no..” Wylan said quietly.

You struggled in his grip again. You hoped it was enough of a distraction, but you were wrong. A familiar strike hit your cheek and the force threw you to the side. A pair of arms caught you but you couldn’t focus on anything beside the pain in your cheek.

That trademark back-handed slap, seemingly reserved for you and your mother. The slap that had split your cheek wide open when he had used his ring hand before. The slap that made you feel eight years old again. You had the thought to hide under the table but shook it quickly.

You weren’t a child anymore. Your mother couldn’t help you. You focused back to the current moment, the pulsing sting in your face and the tears in your eyes. You opened your mouth, unsure what you intended to say, but no sound came out. Instead, Kaz swung his cane with enough force to make your father sway on his feet - you thought you saw a tooth go flying - and Jesper was eagerly climbing over the table to join in.

You had half a mind to laugh as they landed strategic blows against your father.

‘Serves you right!’ you wanted to yell but your voice was still missing.

But Wylan was already leading you out of the Crow Club. You didn’t protest the escape. Wylan didn’t say anything until getting to your room at the Slat. You sat on your bed after kicking off your shoes and pulled your knees to your chest.

For what felt like the first time that night, you took a real breath. The adrenaline had faded, leaving your body tired and heavy.

“Do you want to talk?” Wylan gently tried, sitting at the edge of the bed.

You simply shook your head.

“Okay… Do you want something cold for that?” He gestured to his own cheek.

Gingerly, you prodded the tender area. You winced but felt no cut or blood. You shook your head again.

“I’d like to go to bed, I think.” You spoke. Your voice was so small, so far away. That couldn’t be what you sounded like… Was it?

“Of course.” Wylan nodded. He stood and patted your head, making you laugh weakly.

It was the same gesture he did the first time he saw you crying when he didn’t know how to help. Since that first night, it was just what you two did.

“Thank you for sticking up for me.” You offered a grateful smile. “You got the other guys going, too.”

“We’re always gonna be there for you, Y/N/N. And hey, if it helps any, I’m sure Kaz beat the hell out of him.” Wylan offered.

“I’m not convinced anything’ll help anymore, Wy.” You shrugged before laying down.

Not until he’s dead, but you didn’t dare say that part out loud.

You waved goodbye to Wylan before you took your pillow and put it over your face. You held it there and screamed as loud as you could. You screamed until you were out of air, then sucked in a deep breath just to do it all over again. Once the screams were gone, you cried. They were ugly, likely snot-filled and red faced cries, but who the hell cared?

You cried until your throat was raw, your breaths were shaky, and your eyes were dry. You had nothing left in you except childhood pain, so you did the only thing you could. You let sleep take you.

It wasn’t long until the door creaked open and you shot up. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes quickly, reaching in a panic for the small blade on your nightstand.

“It’s alright, Dear.” Kaz spoke calmly. “It’s just me.”

“Oh…” You sighed in relief, pushing your hands through your hair. “Just a bit jumpy, I guess.” You tried to laugh it off.

“That man in the Club...”

“Kaz, I don’t want to-“

“You never mentioned your parents.” He kept on going.

You groaned to yourself, understanding that Kaz was going to be stubborn about the topic. With a sigh, you ran a sleeve across your face. You folded your legs and Kaz sat in the now open space of your bed. He kept his eyes on his cane, tapping it as he spoke.

“Those things he said about your mother, what he did to you…”

“Yes, my father is an ass.” You conceded. “Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say, Kaz? My family was broken. Hardly a family at all, nothing more to it.”

“Seems like there’s much more to it.” He countered.

“Oh, for Saint’s sake.” You ran a hand down your face. “What do you want me to say?”

“You completely shut down, Y/N.” He said firmly. There was concern in his voice, but it seemed smothered by the anger still looming. You blamed your father for that, too. Was there anything that man couldn’t ruin? “He put hands on you and you did nothing.”

“I’m well aware.” You bit out. You placed your hand over where your father’s had been and it was as if the skin was burned by his touch. You shivered slightly but said nothing else.

“I’ve never seen that happen to you.”

“Let it go, Kaz. I’m begging you.”

“Convenient, isn’t it?” He scoffed slightly. “When you wanted to know of all my pain and torment, I had to lay it all bare for you to scrutinize and study. Yet when it comes to facing your past, you don’t have words?”

“I don’t have words.” You rolled your eyes. “If you believe that’s the case, then just leave me be.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He sounded near offended that you’d suggest such a thing. “Not until you talk to me.”

“What difference will it make?” You nearly screamed. “You’ve seen the truth. You know that I’m a fraud and I’m weak and pathetic. Feel free, Kaz, to cut your losses and go. I don’t expect you to stay after that fiasco.”

“You think so little of me?” He didn’t bother hiding how your words hurt him.

“I think the world of you.” You corrected quickly. “But I also know you. That whole thing made a mockery of who everyone knows me to be, and that reflects on you and your choice. My father has the infernal talent of breaking me down as if I’m nothing. He had always been able to break me and he enjoyed it. I’m sure he looked very high and mighty doing it again, didn’t he?”

Kaz didn’t answer.

“So now you know. Now you know that I’m not at all what I pretend to be around here, and I won’t blame you if you walk right out that door and never acknowledge me again.”

“Is that what you want, my dear?” He asked quietly.

His gloves were abandoned on your nightstand, you hadn’t even seen him take them off, and he gently took hold of your hand. With minimal force, he removed your hand from your arm and slipped his fingers between yours.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked. His voice was quiet, so uncertain. You had never heard such a tone from him.

“No…” You confessed. “But I know-“

“Then tell me.” His eyes met yours and in the dim moonlight from your window, you could’ve sworn you saw…

Tears?

Well that couldn't be right. You didn’t even remember him crying when he told you the story of his brother. Why would he be crying now?

You reached your other hand for his cheek, smiling to yourself as he leaned into your touch.

“This isn’t your burden to carry, my love.” You answered softly. He sighed slightly but had no argument yet. “You wear so many hats, balance so many titles and jobs. You bear the weight of so much pain as it is… I can’t ask you to bear mine.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He corrected, gently taking your hand off his cheek. “Y/N, you are the only thing in this world worth having. Every breath I take is because of you. Every day I wake it is because you are beside me. To know that this has haunted you, to know that man exists in the same city- same country- same universe that you is a crime that I will personally make him answer for. He threw away the privilege of your love and your protection the first time he dared to put his hands on you.”

“Am I protecting him?”

The question wasn’t meant to come out. The look he gave you was so close to pity you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“You offered to carry my pain as if it were yours so long ago.” He spoke gently, so gentle that it made your heart ache. “You carry everyone’s pains and gripes without a word… Let me do the same for you.”

“He’s the reason I lost everything…” You nearly whispered. “He’s the reason I had nothing. What if he’s the reason I lose you?”

“It’s going to take more than that to scare me off, Darling.” He gave you a small smile. “I swear to you, Y/N, he will never hurt you again.”

You sniffled and threw your arms around him. He was quick to return your embrace.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his shoulder.

You managed a better sleep with Kaz beside you. The next day, you two stayed cooped up in your room and you answered every question you could manage.

Admitting to the extent of your father’s abuse was more difficult than you expected. Several times during your conversation, you found yourself shutting down and trying to change the topic to whatever you saw out your window.

Yet Kaz was ever so patient.

You knew then, beyond any sort of doubt, that you and Kaz would be together for a very long time.

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