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kooyabooya · 1 month

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m reader x dahyun // 9k words

(shoutout to @passingnotions for allowing me to adapt this idea <3)

“I have her here waiting at the desk if you’re ready to see her, sir.”

“Perfect. Send her up.”

It’s peculiar for these kinds of rumors to circulate given her status - and even when the sounds of her heels click off against the polished tiles and get gradually louder; until she steps past the open door and into the oval office, you still can’t put together why she’s a controversial topic in the first place.

“I’m glad that we can finally have this arrangement,” you say, glancing over the more she makes her presence known, “Overseer.”

It’s as simple as it sounds:

She’s the regulator. You’re the higher-up. It’s your job to assess, determine, and take action.

And the roles exist for a reason, and every system has its necessary balance. Nobody gets out of line, and nobody ever questions the orders that come from the superiors. Everything feels right in its place, between the people and where this institution stands, but there’s one catch that you’ve sought yourself to see out personally, after hearing some peculiar commentary building up with various faculty members.

This very woman standing in your quarters exudes this infectious aura that sweeps up the whole room. In the case of the students, it would send a chill down their spine, get a few beads of sweat to form in the palms of their hands and foreheads - a quick breath beneath their lips as they tense up because despite not being the main person in trouble, and she makes them feel that way regardless.

“I would like to know why you asked to see me in the first place,” she says, face stoic as she settles into the seat, gaze locked with yours, “Hopefully this isn’t about what we discussed the other time, is it?”

Something in the way that she sits, and how the two-piece set of her dress rests along the line of her shoulders, how her eyes dart through yours when you’ve caught yourself staring a bit longer than expected. Make the goosebumps along your arms stand up underneath the sleeves.

“It’s partly that,” you answer, pinching the edge of your cuff, hoping to divert the attention of death staring in your direction. “Among other things.”

“Meaning what, sir?”

Breaking eye contact, the formality alone snaps some composure into you. To recap: you’ve been in and out of meetings all day, talking about future plans to implement amongst the student body and faculty; then there was some discrepancies that was dealt with from past incidents brought to your desk, but the common thread from these accounts all pointed to the same thing:

“It’s about your recent-” the pause alone of the intended word hanging between your lips makes the Overseer puzzled about this discussion (though with the implications through the reports sitting on your desk, tell a different tale).

“-modes of conduct.” You tell her, which only earns a quirked eyebrow and a nod, signaling that you’re right. “I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going around between the other staff members and what not, Dahyun.”

Even the name alone sometimes sends chills to your body. Overseer Kim Dahyun: the academy’s best instructor. Lead figure when it comes to dishing out disciplinary measures to those who were stupid enough to go against the rules. Once she has someone that’s out of order, it’s automatically assured that there won’t be any further incidents coming from them moving on. You’ve looked at the written reports, noticed that there’s nothing worth putting against someone like her with the reputation that she carries, but no one ever really stays perfect for this long.

“So tell me, Superior,” Dahyun begins, one leg over the other in her chair while you continue with the glacial pacing around the office, “What is it that you have heard about me, circling around with the other staff in the past weeks?”

“I guess it’s mainly the latter, the ‘forms’ of discipline you’ve been committing with various students.”

“What about them?”

“That's the reason why I’m having this discussion with you in the first place.”

Dahyun tilts her head down, eyes wandering the opposite direction, reflecting almost as her mind tries to piece the different shards of information rummaging about in her head. She’s one to not leave anything unchecked - down to the minute detail possible. Intricate in the way that she does her line of work, and meticulous with how she wants things to be done. She also gets along well with others to which they speak highly of her. You wouldn’t want to call these accounts ‘accusations’; not yet, until you’ve seen both ends of the scope before drawing up a solid conclusion.

She turns her head around to see you at the tray table next to the door, tending to the two glasses of water before a wave to the keypad locks the deadbolt into place, to ensure privacy and know that someone will eventually knock without even going to the front desk in the first place. “This is a first for me, especially coming from you, questioning my methods.”

“I don’t see what you mean,” you tell her, making peace with the glass in your left hand to which she accepts, “I’m only aware of the stories that were told in recent weeks.” Dahyun acknowledges with a sip, eyes still trained on you now on the other side of your desk, “Let this be a simple conversation between you and I, please.”

“Okay then,” she remarks, handing back the empty glass once she’s done with it, “I’ll ask this again: What is it that you’ve heard about me that caused this whole debacle in the first place?”

Her look shifts up, maintaining her posture, hands resting on her lap. There’s a few strands in her hair that look out of place, but most of it is neatly tied up in the bun hanging low behind her head. She knows that she holds this sort of entitlement, this status - even from the glances alone in all sorts of seriousness tell you not to mess with a woman like her if you were a student.

But you’re not.

The lift from her eyebrows, above the upper rims of her glasses, prompting you to answer. It’s all in your head, right there, the only problem is how the delivery is going to hit her. You have every right to feel bad to be the bearer of not-so-good news, but it’s the part of the job, and the more you stand there in silence with her looking up waiting for a reply, adds on the slow building tension in the room.

You’re reminded however, of the actions she committed.

“We have an issue, technically it’s not really an issue, yet.” Dahyun’s gaze twists at that, but it isn’t a look of clear confusion, moreso thrown off at the very topic of discussion. She scoffs, slightly amused, and you can’t blame her for giving that reaction. “Though it’s been brought to my attention in the past few days.”

And in terms of issues, there’s hardly any throughout the academy; thanks to the dedication towards molding the best and brightest students into civilized beings for the real world. Most of these incidents come at a scarce occurrence alone - but it still happens even if it’s an ordinary day throughout the week.

She blinks twice, maybe thrice, turns her head away, fixated on the edge of the desk still. Her hands mold together with a small unease, but she still looks empathetic with how her eyelids flutter in the small lines of breaking light past the windows.

“So say it then,” she says, tone flat - like in her lectures or when having a one-on-one conversation with a troubled student outside the hallways, “since you’re always so on top of the loop with the faculty here.”

The prompting. It’s so on brand for her to be like this - to set someone else up as a way for them to keep their attention, carrying on with the conversation till she finally has that satisfaction with the answer. There’s some admiration for her, in the way that she doesn’t back down from a disagreement, because she’ll always see it through no matter what the circumstance may be. It’s her strength, and also her weakness, but she’s good enough to not let it show on her face.

At some point you were afraid of her, something that you can admit to yourself from a long while ago. Not a lot of people at the academy even really liked her because she’s extremely intimidating, and that still seems to be the case now. Though, with all of the different events spread out across the place, some of the roses were given in her effort to come out of her shell which she takes your encouragement. It’s in those rare moments where she laughs or smiles, like a blue moon passing in the night sky.

You remember the task at hand, what needs to be done.

“It’s about the students,” you tell her, air slipping through your upper lip as a way of preparation, “I’ve been told by a few individuals that you’ve been having an affair with one of them.”

“What!?”

“This is all just speculation,” you say, settling into your chair as Dahyun keeps her posture upright and composed, “Hence you being here to tell me your side of the story so that we can try to line up the two different perspectives together.”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Dahyun.” That sense of professionalism has to be cared for. An eye to the desk to the few different reports that insinuate a wrongful framing; some of them were just verbal accounts and had to be on the record, but the whistleblower tip in the form of a post-it note already caused quite a stir around the teachers lounge.

“All of this is unbelievable.” She plucks her glasses away from her face, catching a few wisps fall out from their spot on the top of her head, clearly irritated. “I have- I have not. In no way those accusations are true.”

You pull your lips inward, trying to be sympathetic as much as possible in addition to being transparent. Her eyes darted back at yours, fully interested as to what you might say next. She expects an answer, and you’ll give it to her, but all you do is raise an eyebrow to where she scrunches her eyes in response.

“Are you sure?” To that, Dahyun rolls her eyes. You notice a quick pull from one of the corners of her lip, shuffling the small stack of files off to the side, leaning closer with both elbows on the wood. “I hope you realize that if you are withholding information from me, it can lead to harsher consequences.”

Dahyun clasps her hand to a fist, face still as stone as you watch her eyes sweep across the floor. A heavy bundle of air leaves your chest, keeping your gaze locked to her, waiting for an answer within the next moments or so. She knows that she can’t shy away from this, and she knows that the only direction to take is the one where truth is the sole passage. It’s also very interesting the way she doesn’t falter, sheltering her emotions inside. You’ve only seen her be the opposite of that - only once, a spell ago, and you were convinced that it was only a one time thing. The silence seems to get louder in the room, and she finally shifts her eyes back to you.

“Well?” you ask, to break the tension a bit, “You’re not my enemy here. I just want you to be as open and honest as possible.”

You can see the slightest clench at the bottom of her jaw, gritting her teeth behind her lips. There’s that thought of clear common sense, telling you that what she did was wrong, but that’s just one side of the story. Sure, that someone who created the rumor might’ve done it out of spite, or maybe they wanted to see Dahyun in a state of panic just for the fun of it. Some will say one thing, and others will say another. The only way that you’ll know for sure to make all of this go away is the personal statement directly from her.

“Overseer.” You huff, sighing out of pure annoyance.

Her brows crunch in response to the title.

“I need to know. That’s all I’m requesting of you right now.”

She sets herself square on the seat, facing you; she’s matching your height now in a sitting position, but despite the lack in length is replaced with the demeanor that she carries. There’s been some sort of competition thrown around by the students, talking about how Dahyun’s figure comes second to none with the likes of Jihyo or Mina to name a few. Gawking at the fellow staff members who caught wind of the conversation is what you give them, and it would take a metric fuck-ton of persuading to spill an answer out of your lips.

Still no answer from her as of this second.

“Overseer Dahyun,” voice now in a much lower register than usual to punctuate the gravity of the situation, “We don’t have all day; so either you fess up now, or I’ll carry on this conversation tomorrow if I’m not going to get it out of you today.”

Running her upper lip inward, you carry on with the scattered paperworks spread across the desk as she contemplates, unwilling to make eye contact with her while she keeps her eyes focused on you. By all expectations, you were hoping that this meeting would be quick and easy; just get the required information before writing up a report and be on your way. Still, you can’t help but think as to why she’s being so reluctant about saving her status let alone her job - all because she didn't do something that had very little significance to her and became such a big deal.

“Fine,” you say, slapping the pen lightly on the desk before beginning to stand up from the chair, “Just forget that I asked and you can-”

“One.” she finally says, after what felt like an eternity it seems. And then again, “One.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” you start, falling back onto the seat; Dahyun collects herself with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, breathing carefully. That crucial first step was already taken, and the plan in your mind to diminish this whole controversy is slowly scaffolding into place. “So I’ll ask this once again in a different way: Are you having an affair with one of the students in the academy?”

“Yes.”

“Is it…just the one?”

“Just the one.”

Despite how this information may be shocking to a degree, composure has to be kept from this point on. You’re just simply doing your job as the superior, and if this doesn’t get solved quickly, there’s more people in higher places than you that will do what you couldn’t.

“So,” you set yourself up for the next connecting inquiry, “I want a full explanation for this, as to when and how all of this came to be.”

Dahyun licks her lips, unsure if what she’ll say next will either be her saving grace or a shortsighted opportunity breeding on disappointment. You can easily tell that she’s uneasy, and it’s very impressive at how she’s able to keep an expressionless face for an instance like this. Put anyone else that works here in her seat and situation, they’d all panic or break a sweat pleading for an appeal to save their own skin. To hell with the fading wish for an interesting day every few weeks or so - because this potential scandal might make the whole week or even the whole year.

“Alright,” she relaxes, finally letting her body release all of the tension while she flutters her eyes back to you, “For the record, he came to me. It was-” a quick look to the side before subduing the sudden impulse coursing through her neck, “It was supposed to be a simple form of disciplinary action. A one time thing. Had him serve the correction and be on his way. Though, you’re very familiar with, well- you know, the methodology.”

“I see, and it took you that long to tell your side of the story??” Swallowing the small lump in your throat growing as her eyes fail to leave yours. “But let me guess, he-”

“He wanted to see me. Actually, he wanted to keep seeing me. I asked him as to why one day, and he was just fascinated with the approach that I do; he just wanted the pleasure for himself and as for me, I reveled in the satisfaction of taking advantage of him.”

“And you found it to be completely appropriate for this little entanglement to keep on happening?”

Dahyun then leans forward, and thank Christ you managed to save your wandering eyes from leering a second too late at the overflowing swarm of pale thighs ballooning on the cushion as more and more skin is revealed at the help of that tight light blue dress getting hiked up with the press of her legs. The inquisitive angle of her head at the given question, letting a stray wisp of her hair fall from the side before she drags it back behind the cuff of her ear. “So what are you saying?”

“Well, I’m the one who asked you first,” you answer, twiddling the pen around your fingers, maintaining eye contact with her. “Besides, I’m also not the one stuck in the middle of this debacle in the first place anyway.”

She sighs, head cocked back, almost vexed that this meeting has gone way longer than intended. You could’ve waited until after hours once all of the students had left the campus, but this was also the best possible convenient time because of the gap in her schedule during the regular day. Her lips stay shut, the soft tick of the clock mounted on the wall keeps on going. Maybe raising a white flag in the means of things might be better for today, and you’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow.

Most days don’t often go this way. Aside from the usual responsibilities throughout the typical day whether it would be out your desk or out and about peeping in different classrooms, you’re slightly ecstatic for the sudden change in pace around these halls. “I digress,” you say, leaning forward before finally carrying on, “So as your superior, Overseer, I’ll leave it off with this. Do you have anything else left to say before I draft up a report for all of the parties affected?”

Dahyun crosses her left leg over the other, clutching the glasses in her hand, her head tilts at that same right angle as earlier. The gaze she has is unchanging, staring at you right in the face while you’re quickly examining the two sheets of paper placed next to each other on the desk, sliding them away into the pile as you stand up off the chair. You’ll take this meeting as a win, at least some of the information was suitable enough to your liking for now. With all that done and over with–

“Still no answer?” You ask, fingers dancing along the button of your cuff, carefully threading it through the small slit, “Don’t make me ask this again–”

“No.”

“No?”

“I told you. No.”

“Really now?”

“I have already made my case with you, sir. There’s nothing else left for me to say for the time being.” she answers with a shrug to her shoulders.

Dahyun’s throat tenses when she sees the once needling eyes from you become quickly disinterested with her return. Incompetence was a sheer rarity with the way you operate your role, let alone a hindrance that you see in other people. Like the rest, it wouldn’t be long for everyone to get whipped into the ‘new regime’ all those years ago; some stimulating commentary at the time, but everyone understood once the policies were put into place.

Though, this meeting has gone long enough, and keeping her here wouldn’t really do anyone good at this point.

“Consider this conversation to be over, then,” you say, turning your body to the window panes set behind your desk, looking out at the moving trees in the breeze. “You’ll hear from me within the next few days so, carry on until you’re notified.”

She then stands too, hand clasping to her wrist, subjectively giving you a nod with your back turned, seeing her out of your peripheral vision. The emotionless look that’s her only mask, unimpressed and cold, as if nothing ever phases her in the tiniest of mishaps. You know that she’s just like the rest, despite wearing that facade like if life were to depend on it, part of you wants to break her- to tear up that infuriating fray of nothingness, spark some kind of fear into her core that would have her screaming, beg for a twinge of mercy.

Reading those accounts of what she did with that student, wasn’t supposed to make you interested, but it is. A worthy head-scratcher for someone like her to have a few screws loose every now and then. It just didn't add up, for her to treat this so pointlessly.

Even when she starts to bundle her feet together, swiveling them across the tile, she still carries this peculiar gracefulness in her step as her profile sweeps out of the picture - her back coming into view. She’s put up with that facade against you for so long, you know that it’ll be easy for her to comply in her case because it’s not in her nature for her to defy orders.

A turn of the head signifies a chance out of desperation; a lifeline, and you’ll give her the luxury of deciding her fate.

“And one more thing,” you setup, rolling the sleeves of your shirt to the elbow, to where Dahyun turns her body the long way round, hands behind her back, waiting for the next thing to leave your lips, “I’ll be perfectly blunt with you because I know that you clearly know better.”

Her forehead twitches at the cause of her brows bridging against each other. You see the small nick of her head that also shows the acknowledgement she’s willing to give you, both ears and eyes trained on you once the spread of your fingertips rest on the polished bark.

“You’re aware of this academy’s policies when it comes to relationships among peers, it’s basically frowned upon,” you tell her lowly, “Let alone of the fact that you’ve been having this intolerable amount of behavior out of the false guise of indignancy.” She starts to internalize this short reproachment you’re dishing out on her, watching as her eyes expand by the passing second, “Now, I’ve could’ve let this be handled by the high council, but they’ve gave the chance to me in order to see if I can get this incident resolved without having any further escalating conflicts.”

She parts her lips, wanting to take the opportunity at clearing her name, but she holds back since there’s that hanging impression of ‘what’s there left to be said once everything is put on the table?’ And even so, would anything serve to be better in the good graces of innocence for her case?

So she says nothing. Forever holding her peace while you audibly scoff at her. “I expected better from you, Overseer, I really did.”

It takes the next few seconds to re-organize your workstation, she hangs herself in limbo, gathering her thoughts as the window to save herself starts to close smaller and smaller, and she finally takes the sealed fate into her hands.

“If I may,” she says, diverting your attention from the desk back to her - hesitant to the point where you can rightfully assume that she’s eager to finally set everything straight: “I’d like to formally tender my resignation here at the Academy.”

A bold move, Overseer, but a surprise one too-

“On what grounds?” you ask, clearly taken aback with the sudden course of action by her own admission. “I don’t really see to understand while you would go to such lengths for this little incident-”

“Because I will admit to you, Superior, that I saw that student out of my own volition. I’ve made the effort to set time aside from my schedule so that he and I could have our private meetings in my office; for the sake of his pleasure and for my sake of being able to satisfy those kinds of requests for him.”

This tidbit of honesty coming out serves as a great reaction to your scolding, and not a lot of people get the credit they deserve trying to convince a person like Dahyun, but luckily you’re the one - if not the only one to have that ability in advising her. You always believed that she’d come around in some way or another, considering that this was the very first big fuck up from her too.

“Superior.” The name alone brings you back. “Please, consider my resignation. And I’ll make all of this go away.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why can’t you?” Her voice is strained, a fist at the side of her thigh, nails deep into her palm enough to draw blood, “I have to do this. I need to do this, sir. Please, let me-”

You can see the desperation start to break through the cracks of her stoic persona, inching closer to where you want her to be. She can play the cool, level-headed teacher all she wants, but you know that this whole fiasco was her doing; like anyone else, they’ll do anything to make things right, no matter the cost. Then the getting ahead starts to seep through your frontal lobe: what she’ll start asking for next, the kinds of lengths she’ll commit to if you’re not the one to throw the figurative lifeline at her.

Not just yet, guiding her into the right mindset will fall into place if you let the inner workings of panic do their thing.

“Overseer Kim.” You slowly navigate closer to her, rounding the desk with every moving step across the room. “Even if you were to leave, you can’t. I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door here because I knew that this would happen: the way that you’re acting, we can’t have this.”

It’s amazing at how she’s at ease, despite having the mini breakdown just an instant before.

Because her act is rapidly deteriorating.

“Sir, I don’t follow-”

“Dahyun.” With a hand to her shoulder, her face freezes right when she flashes a look of suspicion, tensing up at the touch before she locks eyes with you again, the unsureness diminishing with a singular eyebrow raise. “I’m giving you an opportunity to have all of this resolved without any loose repercussions.” You can feel the heart rate within her start to calm down the way her breathing stabilizes, tension along the line of her shoulders releasing with every pass of air, “There would be no need to resign, and we would find a workaround to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“And how would you suggest that, Superior?”

“By granting you amnesty. Without the word from anyone else but me.”

You can see that same sweep of her eyes moving left and right, unable to meet yours. The offer alone is taking her a significant amount of time to consider, a mistake that she’s willing to undo. She then looks up with a wistful gaze, the small spark dashing through her irises - as if she had just made the discovery of fire. Her mind starts to work and it’s so easy to tell, reflecting on this potential choice that she’s able to make. “You don’t mean-”

“Mean what?” Letting a sly grin break through your lips.

“By amnesty,” she adds, tilting her chin up, bearing your arms across your chest, “What would I have to do in order to achieve this?”

She has a general idea of the term itself, and maybe you think she’s also heard of the many things thrown around with this specific practice or policy of yours. This occurrence has happened a few times, whipping up a few notable individuals into shape - some much more needed than others, but the commonality between all of them: they’d always submit themselves to you.

“Do you admit and accept the responsibilities of your actions, Overseer?” You formally request with hands reaching to the fine creases of her dress to which she accepts.

There’s a brief pause of consideration again, and you’re watching her eyes never leave yours, thinking about the whole reason that you two are in this position in the first place. It may be a little hard to believe still; knowing what Dahyun will do not only for herself, but for the academy. Then there’s the logged report from your desk, in detail of what she did with that student, makes you realize that she’s got a screw loose in her head.

“Yes, sir.” She answers, looking up with a delighted smile, fully realizing the opportunity and taking it with no regret. “I do.”

“Good.” With a sigh of relief, a hand escalates to the back of her neck. “Because your punishment begins now.” And she’s in awe of the shimmer in your eyes, slowly grinning when you’re dipping your head down lower, minimizing the distance. It lights a fire within you, a motive of what will entail from this point going forward.

This is what amnesty is, Dahyun would think, be oh- she has no idea what she just got herself into.

You learn that she’s receptive, the way that she takes your lips with hers so well, hands flying freely, breath clashing with yours. It’s messy, the way more slick starts so spread on the lower half of both of your faces, wanting more. Her tongue weaves its way past your mouth, a leg hiked up that you greatly take the hint for, channeling the hum of approval coming from her down your throat. She grips tight on the back of your shirt, adamant on taking this chance to build a clean slate, a perfect rush of gasps followed with even more kissing. Her hands are well into your hair when you pull away, a pause to probably call a stop and-

“So it is true,” she admits against your cheek, “About this little policy?”

You lift an eyebrow unimpressed at her.

“What do- you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, grip getting tighter on the fine part of her ass, chest heaving slightly, breaths getting uneven.

“I thought it was just some legend here, around these halls.” Dahyun answers, letting her wrists relax while swooping under her legs, instinctively wrapping them around the small of your back. “Maybe you can show me if that’s actually a real thing.”

She doesn’t see the flared nostrils you’re giving her, “I’d like to thank you, Overseer,” setting her on the desk nicely when the clack of her heels fall onto the floor, echoing the room as she removes the top piece of her dress, tossing it over to the chair she was previously sitting at, “For reminding me what I was doing.”

“And that is?” She asks, naively.

There’s a bit of a shock when you force her body to the desk, a flushed reaction covered with a gasp when you have one hand fastened to her wrist, the other lightly on her neck with the grip on the fingers getting delicately tighter. She tries to read your expression, map out the crinkles falling towards a cross or a devilish smile, feeling your breath graze along the line of her neck in these soft hitches.

“Allow me to show you,” you whisper, flipping her small body to where her back is facing the ceiling, toe tips nearly grazing the floor but just barely. The same hand to her wrist is now shifted to her back, the other set flat; searching for something to take hold, she peeks over her shoulder, watching you study the way her dress hugs along the shape of her waist and hips.

Doing this kind of practice was no surprise to you, and it doesn’t happen as often as you would’ve liked. Ryujin took three tries before she’d agree to not be a bother to you, Haewon probably took a few days or more to finally come around, and even Mina just recently. This revolving door into your office and form of chastising was the last resort of necessary actions for your fellow colleagues, some willing to challenge your authority, others were willing to submit.

“What do you think this treatment entails?” you ask vaguely, raising the lower part of her dress to reveal more and more of her ass into the light, taking note of the noticeable choice of lace as she hikes it up with her free hand. “I sure hope that this should help you learn a thing or two. Though, it’s entirely up to you.”

Dahyun’s side profile is amazingly flawless to see when you’re gently kneading her soft ass with your hand, palm moving graciously along the fine skin, fluttering her eyes shut, her breathing begins to become irregular, a small tremble to her hips as you press down lightly on the waistband, tugging on the elastic before letting go. The potential is right there at your hips - at your fingertips, to ruin, break skin, a perfect canvas for you to mutilate in any way you see fit.

You laugh and admittedly, out of spite. “I’m sorry, if this meeting didn’t occur, you were going to invite him over for another one of your private sessions?”

She seethes, but in anticipation, drawing a sharp inhale of air when your hand slides up her back. Part of you wants to put her back onto the wood, but you let it slide when she lifts herself off to meet your cheek, getting a bit selfish when she’s refusing to pull away. Her swollen lips and lidded eyes are too tempting to stop yourself- as if she’s the one pulling you into her spell.

“Had I not been found out, I would’ve,” she murmurs, clutching onto a bit more of her hiked up dress, revealing her bare ass to the open air, unveiling a strike point.

A fast hand tends to hers, placing it with her other hand still pressed behind her back. She writhes at the uncomfortable position but the tension passes through her body once you adjust.

“You know what I would say to that, Overseer?”

“What-”

Nothing is said, but all is shown with a harsh slap to her ass. A statement.

Strike one.

Dahyun quietly yelps at the sudden hit to her backside, everything from the waist down clenching from the contact. The rough palm on your hand stings to the point where you’d have to flick your wrist a bit to subdue the burn. Her breathing starts to become irregular, wiggling her legs hanging from the side of the desk.

“Superior, ah-”

“I should’ve also mentioned that I’m permitting you to use expletives, but you’re already ahead of the curve as it is,” you tell her, massaging the crimson mark now apparent across the breadth of her ass, feeling the bits of heat emulating across the rough creases of your palm. “You’re now free to speak your mind.”

“God, f-fuck. I can’t bel-”

Another rough hit cracks an echo in the room. Earning a high-pitched whine from her. Strike two.

“Choose your words more carefully.” Fighting the urge to smile at the sight this woman splayed across the table, letting out these heaves of desperation, body tightening and untightening on the surface as she’s hiding her face from you. “I don’t plan on easing up after what you did.”

“Sir, please. I just need to-”

You press her deeper into the table, hike up more of that insanely tight dress to her waist, letting her struggle under your grasp. The sounds leaving her pretty little lips would drive anyone else drastically crazy, watching as this uncrowned beauty crack under the weight of your touches with a third slap. Strike three.

What sets Dahyun apart from the rest that has gone under your specified practices of treatment is the appeal she possesses. At least everyone from the faculty to the students have shared their thoughts about her: few envying and others fantasizing. You’re somewhere between the two, impossible to really tell for yourself, but what’s rest assured:

There's more than a boatload of things to discover with Dahyun that’s already a list growing by the second. Dragging your fingertips along her thighs, pressing and pinching in spots where you’re trying to assess how nimble she can get, the way you can twist and mangle her limbs into a plethora of ways that’s drawing up with the imagination running through your head. How she shudders when you’re pulling on the elastic of her panties down her luscious legs, drinking in the sight of her glistening pussy lips hanging off the rim of your desk, clearly having an enjoyable time with the slick soaking her undergarments as well.

“Have we had enough? Or are you willing to take more?” you ask, letting Dahyun keep her own hands behind her back with yours fastened over the curve of her hips, sliding down to her red cheeks, handprints visible as you're soothing the damage. “I definitely think that you can handle more, shall we continue?”

She shivers, the slightest grasp to her ass gives another hitched breath, caressing it briefly as you’re plotting the next move in your head.

“You can answer me, Dahyun,” you tell her, leaning down over her back, nose tangling within the threads of her hair, brushing the cuff of her ear before planting a kiss right below it, “But from these sounds I’m hearing tells me that you’re enjoying it.”

A small twist from her singular eyebrow, lids still sewn shut, “You’re ecstatic, that I m-misbehaved.”

“Can you tell?” Another slap to her ass and a tug to the soft skin.

“Y-yes sir, I-”

And another.

“I’m not convinced yet.”

Then another strike.

“F-fuck sir-”

One more hit to bring the tally up to seven.

“Makes me wonder what you were going to do with that poor student if this carried on without my interference.” And at this point her ass has morphed into this ruby shade with every strike that follows. Her shoulders roll back, you’re keeping her in place, wrists still stacked on top of each other, hands opening and closing in response to the pain the more slaps you dish out.

Dahyun struggles to keep her breathing stable, one firm grab to her asscheek as you’re planting a few scattered kisses down the column of her throat, teetering along the bridge of her collarbone. “Tell me, would this be on your mind with him also?”

She doesn’t open her voice to tell, but a simple nod is all she gives. “My, my, Overseer. You really are something.”

You could be satisfied with the way things transpired in this very room, content with the message sent and the warning laced between the lines. A momentary pause, hushing her whimpers, tending to the red tint of her ass, easing the ache of pain mixed with pleasure. Her eyes are scrunched along with the bridge of her nose, gnawing on her bottom lip as your fingertips continue to dance along the sensitive skin.

“Are you ready for the next part?” you murmur into her ear as your hand trails down to the space between her legs, dragging a pointer finger across the warmth of her leaking slit, listening to the sharp breath passing through her lips again.

“Mmmm…” Her legs buck against the drawers, dipping the two pads into her walls. The corner of her lip wobbles as she throbs around your fingers, dragging and sliding in a form of trial and error; seeing what she likes and what doesn’t, the light in her eyes filling with lust. “Sir, please, yes, God-”

She sees another idea spark in your irises, drawing away from the warmth of her pussy temporarily, hands fast to undo the belt around your waist. Dahyun could only watch as you’ve got the leather wrapped around, creating a loose hoop at the end before lightly placing it across the two divots in her back resting above her ass.

You test the pliancy of the looped belt on your other hand, ensuring that the article rebounds nicely across your palm. “I’ve got one more thing to do, consider this to be a test of some sorts.”

“What do you mean, Superio–”

Her voice screeches when you strike the leather in the same spot where your hand hit on her ass cheek; entire body tensing from the sharp pain before breaking down into broken down sobs. She tries to resist by getting up, but you keep her in place as she whines, adamant in believing that she can’t handle it any more.

“Oh no, we’re not through yet,” you hiss, not paying any attention to the stray heel hitting your thigh in retaliation. “Not until you tell me that this won’t happen again going forward.”

“Just for the record, sir,” Her hand grips the underside of your forearm at the same time your weight begins to stack along her back, furrowing her brows and gritting her teeth. “I wanted this.”

“So are we going to have a problem like this again next time?”

“Absolu-”

The leather belt finds her ass again, the crack in the atmosphere strong enough to mistake for the clap of lightning.

“No,” she pleads, twisting her head back and forth, sounding off another thwap to make a point. “No sir, we’re not going to have another problem with this ever again.”

“Good,” you say, the formality alone shortly returning, hands hovering over to her wrists, slackening the belt as you begin to wrap it around her. You’re keeping focus, maintaining your thoughts meticulously, fighting your cock that’s beginning to ache in your trousers. “I’m gonna take good care of you now.”

Once you’ve got the leather fastened around her wrists, there’s another fill to be satisfied when you slip your fingers back into her cunt, throbbing at the way you curl them inside, earning a few harmonious sounds as her back arches to the touch. She’s melting by the second, “Yes, yes, please sir, I want-”

“Speak up,” you breathe, sinking down to your knees, hands resting at the rise of her hips, glistening lips into view. Everything about her is a new learning curve, and the way her lower half is still hung over the edge, ankles neatly crossed together like her bound wrists, you almost feel bad for enacting this onto her.

Keyword almost, and you put your mouth on her other set of lips. Unsure, testing, getting those first savoring seconds up her wet cunt. Her whole body pulls inward, choking down a cry, and you realize, this woman is filled with surprises.

But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, the shivers she dishes out, the string of hums continue to leave her mouth. This wasn’t the time to keep the niceties - shoving your whole face and tongue into her pussy, tongue slipping through her opening in these strokes, body contracting and relaxing. The fingers also come into play, tapping along her clit and eventually dipping in to where your tongue can’t reach, the wetness soaking your fingers, the short grasps letting you know of that beautiful high fast approaching.

“I’m gonna-” she says, voice peaking in a higher pitch than the last, the balls of her feet hitting your chest, holding her down at the bottom of her thigh and ass. “Sir, I’m gonna fucking-”

“That fast?” you ask, gaze glassy, drunk on the sweet slick that’s all over your lips. Biting down the laugh from the top of your throat, “And here I thought you’d hold out a bit longer for me there.”

She pulls her body up with what little strength she has while being tied up. Panting. Heaving. You’re content with the structured appearance of her face completely ruined, tense, letting her eyelids flutter when she feels your finger slip inside her once more, because another feeling like this wouldn’t really hurt anyone.

“Final question. Are you going to be good for me from here on out?”

There’s a silver lining with the sense of humiliation you’re giving her, nearly sympathetic when your knuckle finds its way deeper. It’s wrong, you think, to be like this, but you’ve learned with the years of experience of being in this place that people will only listen when backed to a corner with no other way out. Everyone here is aware of the rapport you have with others, the kind of power that shouldn’t be really shown until it’s a desperate call to make to ensure everyone’s on the same page as you. This time isn’t really different.

But still, it’s a first with her, and you’ll take this grand opportunity to pressure her into not making another issue for the next time.

“Dahyun,” you’re telling her again, because she’s just staring at you in awe. The way you’ve been handling her; professional at the surface level, finding a pressure point to the things that she’s been accused of committing, drawing that out of her by any means necessary, until you’ve managed to break her. “Answer me, darling.”

She comes back to her senses when her body shifts more inward to the wood, resting right at the bending point of her hips, listening to the zip from your pants. The most evil thing she’s done all day: a sly smile breaking across her face, watching you tease the head of your cock along her wet lips. This will be a problem, but a welcome one. You’re hoping that you’ve done your part to the best of your ability.

“Yes sir,” she answers, shimmying her hips to tease. “I’ll be really good for you. I promise.”

“I hope so.” you retort, “I can be very convincing.”

A slip inside, a slow push. It’s electric. Further. Deeper. Filling her cunt up, her walls leisurely stretch around you. The heat alone is euphoric, coming to you in a fast rush. You hold yourself in for as long as possible, but it’s futile; she may have a few screws loose in the head, but you’re not far off the mark as well.

“God,” she mumurus again, and you drag yourself out slightly. Back in nicely, smoothly into that heat, until Dahyun nods her head in approval. She gasps again when you move past the previous spot your cock was inside her, nearly to the base.

“Oh, my fucking-”

A shared gluttal moan parts from your chest and hers, eyes fixated on the sight of your slicked up cock carefully impaling Dahyun, the friction becoming more and more addicting. The muscles in her back start to freeze up along with her clenched hands, fighting against the leather around them. You make it easier for her case, lifting her chest up at the breast, leaning down to seize her lips on yours, holding her steady, cock carving up her walls with every building thrust.

Nose against her cheek, “This cunt,” you utter, pushing yourself deep as this girl is faltering moans with every hit your hips make with her sore, red ass, “I can’t believe how tight this grips me, god- fucking, no wonder he wanted to keep seeing you in the first place,” and you lean down the line of her back, letting her pussy clench around your cock, feeling the clutch of her walls, all wet and aching for more.

The thrusting starts to pick up, unrestrained and unrelenting now. You’re not even sure what to do with your hands, alternating between holding at the endpoint of her waist where her hips meet or press her unbelievable thighs together, to make the press around your cock that much better. A premature call to make, in comparison to the other’s that have preceded Dahyun: her pussy takes it in so well, you could bury yourself inside her for what feels like forever.

“Sir,” she groans out, the sentence being cut off with another slap to her ass, following up with the crash of your hips into hers, holding on to her binded wrists. “Please, please, please-”

“Please what, hmm?” You can’t really conjure up the proper thoughts to put in conversation, heaving out scattered spells of air with every stroke into her. “You’ve gotta help me out here.”

“Need more.” It’s a request for sure, and not a vague one. “Please keep fucking me.”

You do give her more, and nothing less. With every passing second you dive deep into her cunt, the beating in your heart accelerates just that teeny bit faster. The thoughts are out the window at this point, the only thing keeping you from figuratively passing out is the sopping wetness of her cunt every time you pull out and drive back in. The pace gets a bit faster, then you dial it back, watch as her upper body convulses across the desk, mouth hung open for all the moans to be let out, getting louder, more higher, and needier.

She gasps when you hold yourself inside, thrown off guard with the firm hit you give her, a moment to catch her breath. “Wait, no, fuck, why did you-”

Dahyun had managed to do something to you that the others couldn’t in this short span of time: break you. Even after all this time, it’s really interesting how the very person you’ve been wanting to see out for an instance like this is the one that’s managed to make you go all out into setting them right. She’s spearheading this thing, and not you. When it should be the other way around.

A fistful of her hair is grabbed, and her body is raised up, hips flush with hers. “If I hear another question leave your sultry lips, I’ll tape it up so that nobody can hear you screaming down the hallways.”

She bites her wobbling bottom lip, assuring you that’s exactly what she wants to happen, and it will. Her half-open eyes sees your head go sideways, planting a kiss down her neck, inching your cock deeper into her cunt past the hilt and her body shudders at it.

“Want me to fuck some sense into you now? Properly? Fuck this pretty little pussy that it’ll make you think right?”

She nods desperately, “Yes sir. Please.”

You bend her over across the desk again, hand still tangled into her hair with the other resting at her hips. The pace deliberate at first, savoring the sensation of how her body takes you, parting her folds with every inch of your shaft. She shivers when you tease her still, not going all the way, but making her earn it.

Now wasn’t the time for easygoing now, the sight of her backside is an eighth wonder of the world to admire, sliding out and dragging your cock back into her, gradually increasing as the additional slaps to her ass again, fucking her deep. You eventually decided that she’s served her punishment long enough, untying the belt at her hands and discarding it somewhere in the office, putting her hands up to the other end of the desk for her to hold on as you mercilessly bury your cock into her.

“Sir, I can’t keep- fuck!” she cries out, the litany of lovely whines and sounds the more you fill her up. She also takes the liberty of letting you take a breather, moving her hips back, bouncing her ass with you just standing there, watching as her perfect ass does this little ripple effect on the skin, jiggling with an endless movement.

It was getting all too much, and Dahyun herself was enjoying it as well, smiling with every groan that rips from your throat, hand floating over her hips, piercing your cock roughly back into her again and again, unwilling to yield the remaining bits of pleasure before either you or her reach that point-

“I’m gonna fucking- god, sir, keep going, so close-” she strains, gripping your wrists and tight enough for her to rip them off.

“Don’t fight me,” you spit, voice leaning towards something primal, “Cum all over this cock.” And she does.

Your muscles should be spent at this rate, but they hold out long enough as your ears are picking up the endless babbles and whimpers, mixed in with the sloppy strokes of your hips hitting hers. The mind is overloaded with so much, but your hands find rest at her ass again, burying yourself deep. And then it hits you in a flash.

One firm hit sheathing your cock into her cunt, and you pull out, cumming all over the fine plane of her ass. You’ll need to take a mental image to save for eternity - the way you’re painting in these lovely slashes with your release, all over her ass, her back - because you learn that she looks amazingly good like that. A fine figure, waiting to be defiled and tarnished, and it happens.

“God, would you look at-” you’re also left in disbelief, the grip around your cock loosening, eyes on leaking pussy lips, she’s hung down, face off to the side, eyes closed, steadily breathing. The words coming out of her mouth are inconceivable, but she’s thankful, praising you, giving thanks. Judging from how content she looks, proves that your hard work is done.

“S-sir,” she tries to say, still left speechless.

A kiss to the temple of her head, and a ruffle with your hand sliding down to her back. “So, are we satisfied with your conversation?”

Dahyun takes a minute or two, maybe more, to process everything that’s happened just now. She’s still on your desk, and you’re getting right back to it, slipping on your slacks, picking up the tossed belt that you used as a makeshift rope. Your ears pick up on the heavy breathing from her as she slowly gets up, hands giving her support on the desk, dazed and astounded once things start returning back to normal.

You fix up the rolled up sleeves of your shirt; Dahyun blankly stares out in space, fixing up her dress and placing some of the various items hit in the crossfire back in their right spot, off the floor and somewhere where you’ll fix soon.

“Dahyun?” you ask again, watching as she starts to make her way out the door. “Overseer.”

She turns at the title, realizing she left behind a vital piece to her appearance, dipping her head down in embarrassment, but you can already see the blush breaking through her cheeks. Her breathing is also irregular, but it’s a lot calmer than before.

“Sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders, a hand taking the heels in yours. “Thank you, for- uhm, the persuasion.”

An inquisitive look is what you give her. Meeting your gaze, you notice a few stray strands out of place in her hair, take it upon yourself to use the tip of your pinky to move it away from her forehead. Not much is left said between the two of you, probably just small talk or the comfort of silence finally setting in like before. You can’t really seem to get over the wistful constellations behind the lenses in her eyes - and it’s something that you want to study more about.

“Right,” you tell her, patting her shoulder before guiding her to the doorway, fingers fast to the touchpad and the quick clicks of the deadbolt finally opens it. “I’m happy enough to see you again, without the intent of correcting your little issue.”

Dahyun nods in agreement, pulling both of her lips inward to force back the smile, but you see right through her. She begins to make her way out, bare feet on the floor, heels in her hand - a solid lasting impression after today.

“Before I forget Dahyun,” you’re calling out again, and she twists her head around to meet your eyes, “Let’s speak again sometime soon okay? My door will be open for you if needed.”

She squints, smiling a bit to where you see the bottom bits of her teeth. You give her a nod to emphasize your point. “Count on it sir. I guess I’ll be coming around more often, then.”

#twice smut #dahyun smut #kpop smut #male reader #twice dahyun smut #kim dahyun #twice dahyun #kpop x male reader

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the-peak-tmnt · 7 months

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Hey The Neon Void readers, quick update from the author's sister!

(art commission by @kaysdenofchaos)

Hi readers of The Neon Void fanfic. This is the author’s older sister. She’s been getting a lot of fan art and asks lately. She’s sent me screenshots of a few unanswered ones looking for advice on how to respond.

While all the love and support of TNV is genuinely appreciated, my sister @sugarpasteltmnt is not equipped to respond to a small handful of these asks/comments that are, quite frankly, inappropriate.

Sugarpastels is not a therapist, and she’s certainly not an internet stranger’s therapist.

She’s an adult with an extremely demanding and stressful job for a very large client. Some of you have already experienced and enjoyed her work IRL without knowing it. Her company is close to finishing another project that will bring a lot of joy to hundreds of thousands of people every year, but working on a project of that scale is extremely stressful.

She is writing this fanfic for fun. TNV is a way for her to decompress and put her creative energy towards something other than work.

What’s not fun is coming home to asks/comments from readers who are projecting their own struggles/mental health onto TNV, and even Sugarpastels herself, and demanding some sort of attention from her over it.

Let’s be real: it’s fun to watch our blorbos suffer! So much of fandom is just us putting our favorite characters in Situations because it’s fun. Simple as that. But I think another reason TNV has resonated so strongly with readers is because of the way Sugarpastels writes the internal struggles of these characters.

We are both aware that TNV deals with mental health topics. Since the early days of “modern” fandom, fanfiction has been a way for people to explore complicated, difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects. There’s no shortage of complex feelings being explored in TNV, which is why we’re all having so much fun reading it.

But that’s all it is; an exploration. Sugarpastels is not a mental health expert. I’ve read a handful of books on PTSD and mindfulness for research while writing my own fanfic, and I would never consider myself prepared to help someone else.

It’s okay if you relate to things from TNV. I know I do! Again, fanfic has always been a way to read about things rarely dealt with (or handled poorly) in published fiction/tv shows/movies. I will always argue one of the greatest things about fanfiction and other fanworks is being able to see ourselves and our own struggles through our favorite fictional characters.

But Sugarpastels is not a fictional character. She’s a real person. Most importantly (to me at least) she’s my little sister, and this big sister cannot handle watching some of her readers expect more of her than is appropriate.

So I’m asking you to please be mindful of what you ask/say to not just her, but literally everyone on the internet. Unless you’re chatting with someone regularly, they do not know you. Whether it’s friends, family, teachers, coaches, etc, there are people in your life who know you personally, and are therefore better equipped to help you than a stranger on the internet.

Sugarpastels is so full of empathy that it’s hard to not feel for you when you send things like this. But it just isn’t fair to put that kind of unnecessary pressure on someone who is, at the end of the day, just trying to have some fun writing about ninja turtles bein’ sad.

(That being said, PLEASE DON’T BE SCARED TO SEND HER ASKS AND FAN ART!!! They make her day every single time and are seriously so, so appreciated. She’s texting me about it constantly how much she loves all of TNV’s readers. This whole post is really directed at an extremely small percentage of her readers, but there have been enough I felt something needed to be said.)

#ok back to writing about sad turtles!#tmnt #the neon void #the neon void fic #the neon void tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fic

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starmosaics · 1 month

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Mars in the 8th House pt. 2/3

If you haven’t read the 1st part here’s a link to the original post :)

Today I’m focusing on transformation, life and death situations and possible struggles with mental health and substance abuse.

Those with Mars in the 8H frequently face unforeseen events in their life which catalyzes incredible changes. Some of these events are catastrophic. These people can completely alter their lives by brute will or they will be met with challenges which push them towards making necessary changes.

Common events I’ve seen/experienced that pushes an 8H Mars towards transformation:

-Death of a loved one, loss of any kind

-Near death experiences

-A breakup/divorce

-Overcoming addiction

-Releasing/healing trauma

-Inheritance

There’s many times where these people feel isolated and left in the dark; some may feel like they’ve lost everything even their sense of self. Many 8H Mars individuals have experienced and been exposed to very difficult and painful events which is one of the most challenging aspects of this placement. Life has its ups and downs and for these people, that’s never ending. The most important thing is that they are so persevering and are quite determined to follow through to reach the other end after facing difficulties. I’ve seen people with this aspect go through hell and eventually got out of that dark place and became a totally different person; shedding one’s skin. I myself feel like I have already lived 10 different lives. The 8th House forcefully causes one to experience changes within their mental state, physical bodies, or spiritual lives; the 8th House can quite literally strip your identity causing you to have to completely build yourself up again.

These people may feel like they got the short end of the stick when it comes to certain situations that they've been dealt leading them to succumbing to their fears and experiencing chaos and disheveledness leaving them feeling trapped, but something to remind these folks is that when they feel like they’ve hit rock bottom, the closer they are to transforming themselves or an area of their lives along with gaining grit and profound wisdom. The 8th House wants you to go inwards, identify the parts of yourself or your life you can't face, to take the reins and evolve. Sometimes it requires metaphorically (sometimes literally, but hopefully not) dying first to become reborn.

T/W: Abuse, substance use, heavy topics mentioned!!

In terms of an 8H Mars’ mental health, there’s quite a distinctive pattern. As we’ve established earlier that what kind of experiences these people might face, the events that alters one's life naturally will heavily impact one's mental health. I know 4 other people with this placement (along with myself) who have some form of psychiatric disorder; most commonly Bipolar disorder, Paranoia, MDD (major depressive disorder), and BPD. Many have experienced events (commonly during childhood, teen years, and early twenties) that lead to signs/a diagnosis of CPTSD (complex post traumatic stress disorder).

Substance abuse is also very common to those who have this placement. Either a family member of theirs struggled with it, or they themselves did. Everyone I know who has this placement including myself has either had a family member who struggled with addiction, or have personally struggled with addiction; sometimes both. 8th house represents something you inherit and unfortunately sometimes it's the inter-generational cycle of addiction. Substance use disorders and mental disorders are sometimes heritable. This isn't meant to scare you or make you feel bad if you have faced any battles with substances. Addiction doesn't have to be your whole life story, just a chapter. Those who I know who previously struggled with addiction and turned their lives around are happier than ever.

Here are some famous people with an 8H Mars that struggled with their mental health and substance abuse:

-Marilyn Monroe (Alleged Bipolar disorder, substance use disorder)

-Robin Williams (MDD, substance use disorder)

-Amanda Bynes (Bipolar disorder, abused stimulants)

-Sid Vicious (Showed signs of personality disorder, substance use disorder)

-Drew Barrymore (Substance use disorder, MDD)

-Courtney Love (Substance use disorder, Autism)

-Lil Peep (Bipolar disorder, substance use disorder)

-Anthony Bourdain (MDD, substance abuse)

More than half of these famous people also struggled in childhood due to the impact of their family members; Marilyn Monroe had a traumatizing childhood and was living in multiple foster homes and orphanages due to her alcoholic and schizophrenic mother being unable to care for her, Amanda Bynes facing sexual abuse by Dan Schneider as a child, Sid Vicious' mother was neglectful and gave him hero*n when he was a teenager, Drew Barrymore had a mother who influenced and fueled Drew's coca*ne and alcohol addiction before she was even 15 years old, and Courtney Love's father was deemed to be unstable and a horrible father. He allegedly gave her LSD as a child and also physically abused her when she was 17 after visiting him in Ireland.

I don't want to fully air this story out, but I had a friend who was like a sibling to me and their dad abandoned them during their teenage years and their mother was unable to work due to her schizophrenia and substance abuse; she would have us pick up cigarettes and get drugs for her when we were 16/17. This friend has experienced a lot of pain and is still struggling with their own demons and mental health and i'm no longer in their life due to their choices and influence on me, but I still think about them all the time. I wish them the best and hope they eventually find their way back to themselves. They're one of the smartest people I've ever met.

In my own personal life, my dad was never in the picture and my mother (who I believe also had an 8H Mars) struggled with mental illness and substance abuse, so I lived with my grandmother, who I eventually found out also abused substances, but was more "stable". After my mom passed literally from alcohol deteriorating her body when I was 17, I decided I had to keep distance from my family and moved out as soon as I could and since then my life has totally changed. I heavily smoked weed from the ages 16-19, I'm addicted to cigarettes, I am very wary about my alcohol consumption, and I inherited my mom and grandmother's mental illness. If it weren't for my upbringing, I wouldn't possess the wisdom I have today. Yes my childhood was fked up, but it made me immensely resilient. I have experienced life and death literally and metaphorically many many times.

I'm not saying that if you have this placement you're bound to struggle with addiction and have a tragic life story filled with trauma and pain, but unfortunately a more common thing I see in those who do have this placement have struggled with trauma, substances, abuse, and family dynamics. And like I said with the transformational aspect of the 8th House, many people overcame their demons and traumas. There's always an option for recovery in any scenario which is also associated with the 8H, and sometimes destruction (Mars) and chaos is needed for rebirth. In a less extreme manner, 8th House Martians may just struggle with generalized depression and anxiety.

Another thing I've noticed about those with an 8H Mars placement is that they let their anger seethe until it eventually boils over leading to an outburst. They may experience super intense meltdowns due to not healthily coping. Emotional regulation might be difficult for these natives in general.

On one end Mars rules destruction, conflict, death, assaults, and violence. On the other, it represents ambition, overcoming, exertion, determination, encouragement, strength, one's ability, and facing fears.

If you have an 8H Mars and faced any of the struggles above or anything similar and need someone to talk to you can always message me! I want this post to encourage the people who may feel stuck or are in a rough place that they can overcome whatever is thrown at them. Remember crisis comes first, then evolution and finally, total transformation. <3

In the 3rd and final part we'll go over struggles within intimate relationships 8H Mars folks might face and "taboo" topics these natives might enjoy.

#8h mars #8th house mars #mars 8th house #8th house #8h #mars #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astro community #m

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trans-axolotl · 2 months

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hi! saw your recent posts and wanted to ask for some advice, if that's okay. I'm a wheelchair user and I really want to get more involved in protests, but I feel pretty out of my depth. A lot of protests seem inaccessible and I just have a lot of questions about how things would work as a wheelchair user. I guess, do you have any tips about protesting as a wheelchair user and how you deal with inaccessibility?

Thank you!!

Hey anon! completely okay to ask for advice about this--I feel very passionate about this topic and am happy to share some tips! disclaimer that not all of the tips I share here are going to be applicable to everyone's situation--even among wheelchair users, we have so many unique situations, types of wheelchairs, health variations, other medical devices, etc etc. and many of us are multiply marginalized, which can also shape our experiences pretty significantly. so i'll share some general tips, and feel free to take what works for you and ignore the rest! most of this is based on my experience in the type of protests I go to in my city, so I also understand that this advice might not be applicable to every type of protest in every location. i've been involved in many types of protests for the past 9 years, from marches to die-ins to encampments, and have dealt with many situations including tear gas, riot cops, police brutality, fascist agitators, getting arrested, and many different types of high risk tactics. i don't want to position myself as an expert or anything, because i'm always learning and growing, but I do just want to share that for context!

I think the first thing I want to say is just to affirm that it is absolutely possible for wheelchair users to get involved in all kinds of protests, including higher risk and escalated protests. I'll focus on actual on the ground protests in this post because that's what you asked about, but know there are many many ways to get involved with organizing if protesting in the streets is not accessible for you. There are many of us involved in these type of actions already and figuring out ways to make it work for us, so you are not alone in that. I won't lie that it can be complicated, there's a lot of inaccessibility, and some shit might not be possible, but a lot of stuff can be made possible if we get creative.

Before the Protest

For me, one of the most helpful things is trying to find out as much information as possible before the protest, so that I can have a really good plan going in. Sometimes this might be more difficult, because there might be legitimate security culture reasons that a march route can't be announced publicly, for example, or specific tactics aren't posted about on social media in order to keep people safe from police surveillance. But when it is possible, this is the type of information I like to figure out:

What is the location? is it a stationary protest like a sit in or an encampment? is it a march? what is the route? how long is the route? are there obstacles in the route? are there curb cuts? is there hills? construction? other barriers? are there easily accessible exit routes? is there pavement, grass, gravel, etc? are there accessible transit stops nearby? are there accessible bathrooms nearby? if it's indoors, are there elevators and ramps?

A lot of times, to find out this information, I look through google maps street view, ask friends, or go in person if i can beforehand. for me, as a manual wheelchair user, I can deal with a lot of of nonideal circumstances such as hills, curbs, rough terrain, especially when I have a protest buddy who can help push me when needed, but it helps to know if i'm going to have to deal with those situations. Often times, protests are held in pretty inaccessible locations. Sometimes, this is because organizers are not considering accessibility which pisses me off, but sometimes, there are legitimate strategic reasons that we might need to protest at an inaccessible location because of the specific circumstances of the protest. (maybe we're even protesting at it because it's inaccessible!) You'll know best about what geographic features are inaccessible deal breakers for you and having that kind of information can help you make a decision about whether it's possible to attend.

What is the risk level? What tactics are being used? Are people intentionally risking arrest? What patterns of repression and brutality are most commonly used by cops in your city? How high is the risk of chemical weapons?

This can be really hard to predict--there's no way to ever say for certain how cops are going to respond and we can't see the future. But paying attention to how cops in your city have been responding to protests and learning the patterns of what types of protests are more high risk can help us make more informed guesses. We can reasonably estimate that a silent vigil in the daytime is likely going to be lower risk than a occupation of a building, for example. And for some of these things--there's no real way to make getting tear gassed an "accessible" experience for anyone, but for some of us, the consequences might be more severe than others. I have a comrade who uses a ventilator who cannot come to protests where we think there's a risk of chemical weapons, so that can be really important information to try to figure out beforehand.

What do I need to practice? Do I need to teach my comrades how to de-arrest a wheelchair user? Do we need to practice lifting me and my wheelchair over a barricade? Do I need to teach my comrades the safest places to hold onto my wheelchair if we're locking arms and moving as a line? Do I need to practice wheelies to get over curbs? How will I plan to protect the electrical parts of my wheelchair from chemical weapons? etc.

For higher risk protests there might be a lot of different tactics that we can use to navigate things like barricades, arrests, facing down a riot line of cops, etc. It is so, so helpful to be able to practice these skills with your protest buddies before a protest, so that when these situations start happening in a chaotic, fast moving environment, you and your comrades are prepared to navigate the inaccessibility that can come with a lot of these situations. You'll know what is possible for you and be the expert on what feels important to prepare for before an action.

2. At the Protest

Navigating a Crowd. To be honest this can be one of the most frustrating things for me to deal with while at protests. A lot of people are not aware of their surroundings, areas will get very crowded with little space to navigate, and people will block my view. The main ways I try to deal with this are by trying to be in the front of a march or on the sides of a march when possible, to try to have the most space to navigate. As we move, I continually scan our location to find the closest accessible exit route, paying attention to where cops are, curb cuts, etc. My protest buddies know that if we're in a middle of a crowd, they need to provide me with updates about cop movements or any other information that I can't see. I get loud and tell people to get out of my way when I need to. I try to stay near other mobility aid users, bike marshals, or people with wagons because they often leave more room for me to navigate.

Roles. There are lots of different roles we can take on at a protest that might make it easier for us to navigate. I sometimes like to join the bike marshals and help block off roads and intersections. Maybe you have medic training and you act as a street medic. Maybe it's more accessible to act as a scout and communicate police movement to your comrades. Other roles could include leading chants, handing out supplies like water and masks, acting as a legal observer, filming the cops, organizing art builds beforehand, etc.

Community. It's been super, super important for me to always go to a protest with a protest buddy so that we can watch out for each other and keep each other safe. Oftentimes, situations can change rapidly at higher risk protests, and we might end up in an inaccessible situation that we didn't plan for. If I don't have a protest buddy, I usually just turn to the nearest person next to me and start saying loudly "I need you to help me exit this situation/grab my handles and get me up this curb/tell me what the cops are doing etc." It can feel really scary and vulnerable to have to rely on complete strangers in these type of situations, but I've found that a lot of people are really willing to help if I tell them exactly what I need from them.

Surveillance. A lot of us really can't bloc up or hide our identities, because our wheelchairs are easily identifiable. This might shape what tactics we use, and also means there might be added surveillance concerns after a protest. When thinking about your own risk tolerance, grappling with the fact we are visible in a crowd is a really important consideration. This might mean we need to be even more careful about security culture, use encrypted messaging to communicate, avoid cameras, stay in a middle of a crowd to block visibility, and other things like that.

Unique advantages. There can be advantages and skills that we bring as wheelchair users! In flat locations and downhills, I'm much, much faster than my comrades who are walking--I can easily pass messages or get in front of a line of bike cops. I can usually carry a lot more supplies on my wheelchair backpack without getting tired. In my city, there's only one cop van that has a wheelchair lift, and at a recent protest where there were multiple of us in wheelchairs, I heard a cop say on their radio that "There are too many people in wheelchairs and we don't know how to arrest them all." In situations where it's logistically difficult to arrest us or the cops think the optics are bad, that can allow us to cause a LOT of logistical delays, act as a front line, get in between the cops and other people, and just generally make the cops lives a little more difficult.

3. After the Protest

Arrests. If we're risking arrest, there's a lot of wheelchair specific information we need to know. Theoretically, under the ADA, cops are supposed to arrest us with our mobility aid and let us have access to our mobility aid in jail. In practice, this doesn't always happen. Cops might arrest us with our wheelchair but then take it away from us in the holding cell, make us use the jail's standard transfer wheelchair instead, or just completely take away our mobility aid altogether. Cops might zip tie our hands so that we have no way to independently move. The cops in your city might have a van with a lift, or might try to get you to fold or disassemble your wheelchair and put it in a standard car. If they don't have a van with a lift and your wheelchair doesn't disassemble, they might have a contract with a wheelchair van company. Once we're taken to a holding cell, there's a lot higher chance we might get put in solitary. We often won't have access to wheelchair accessible restrooms. We might get separated from all of our comrades--at my last arrest, all my other comrades were taken to a location that processes mass arrests, while I was taken to a separate, wheelchair accessible location and held in solitary. It's super important that whoever's running jail support knows these things and can advocate for us and also track us in the system, especially if we're taken to a different location. If your area has a chapter of the National Lawyer's Guild, they often have a designated person running a hotline. It can be super important to memorize that number, and also to reach out beforehand and explain your needs as a wheelchair user if you're risking arrest.

Overall, there are a lot of considerations for protesting as a wheelchair user, and you are going to be the expert on what is important for you! My general approach is that I want to have as much information as possible so that I can make an informed decision about if I want to attend a particular action. Then, when I'm at an action, I expect my comrades to respect my autonomy and support me in making sure that I can participate and that all of us can stay safe.

Also, for any abled people reading this post, I want you to read this very carefully and understand just how many barriers there can be at protests for wheelchair users. You have a responsibility to your community to whenever possible, mitigate these barriers, choose accessible locations, communicate with your disabled comrades, and support us in the moment. If your excuse is that "oh there aren't any disabled people at our protests, so we don't need to think about these things," you're wrong, and this attitude ensures that no disabled people can show up to your protests. and if that's the case, you're missing out on so much meaningful experience and knowledge that your disabled comrades could bring to the table. "We keep us safe" means that we actually work to meet everyone's needs, including the needs of your disabled comrades.

anyway, this turned into a very long post, but any other wheelchair users feel free to add on your own advice! love to share as much community knowledge as possible, especially advice from people who have different access needs than my particular situation.

anon, please let me know if you have any other specific questions that i didn't cover, and best of luck!

#asks #protests #activism #disability #cripple punk #wheelchair user #accessibility #direct action #disability justice #im a manual wheelchair user but several of my comrades are power wheelchair users so i've learned some from them about #what they need. so i have some comrades who it is not possible to lift their chairs up curbs #so we work really hard to always make sure theres curb cuts or alternate routes

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goddessofroyalty · 8 months

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So this was based on a silly joke I have in my head about hormonal birth control not working for omega!Sanji for (spoilers) reasons and him and Zoro then ending up with 3 kids on the pirate journey because they keep breaking condoms.

Anyway this is just them finally making it back to the Baratie and having to face up to Zeff about it (from Zeff’s POV)

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg

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Zeff will admit he is slightly surprised at the swell in Sanji’s stomach when he showed up again as part of what seems to be the new Pirate King and crew’s Victory Tour.

It’s not that Eggplant had given him no indication of it – he had been getting more and more jittery every damn time he’d gotten in touch as the Strawhats made their various stops before reaching the Baratie. Saying how some things had happened during his travels and that he’d needed to talk to Zeff about them in person. But Zeff had assumed it was to do with his damnable family. Not that his woman-obsessed omega son had gone and got himself knocked up. By an alpha, going by the new layer of scent clinging on top of the one he remembers to be Sanji’s.

And, because wonder’s don’t fucking cease, they’ve only just gotten through their tearful hug when a little green-haired girl comes running over. Clinging to Eggplants leg and staring up at Zeff with curious, familiar, blue eyes.

“I thought you were staying on the ship Princess?” Eggplant says, brushing a hand through her hair. And Zeff is equally sure that actually Sanji told her to stay on the ship as he is that his boy was as much a pushover to his daughter as he had been any woman who had stepped foot into the Baratie before he left.

“You know she wasn’t gonna’ as soon as she found out this was your old home.” And there was the newly minted World’s Greatest Swordsman and apparently sire to Zeff’s grandkids walking in like it had been his home as well and not the place he had gotten nearly cut in half by the former owner of the title.

And, fucks sake, there was another little one resting on his hips as he does it with that same matching green hair.

“I do remember teaching you about the importance of making them wrap it,” Zeff grumbles, because going by the age of the older one the two it hadn’t been all that long after Sanji left that he had gotten himself knocked up. “I know you said you weren’t planning on getting with any alphas but I know you were still listening.”

Eggplant goes red at it before glaring at Roronoa who gives a grin back that is entirely too filthy and leaves Zeff sure that he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Zeff asks more to move the topic away from his kid’s sex life before he finds out more about it than he wants to.

They had been exchanging letters and calls on and off the whole time and never once had Eggplant mentioned that he was going to be or had become a granddad in any of them.

“I did try to but I couldn’t say anything too direct in case it got intercepted,” Sanji explains, resting a protective hand over his middle while the other curls around the girl at his side.

It makes some degree of sense. Best way to keep the two, soon to be three, pups from being a target is to have nobody know they exist in the first place.

Maybe Zeff should have guessed something like this was up when Sanji had asked him how he had dealt with the stress of raising a kid in the dangerous world they lived in. But he had just assumed his boy had finally matured enough to realize how much of an antagonistic dumbass he had been at times.

“I did want to tell you though,” Sanji continues, his voice guilty.

Roronoa has moved close to his mate’s side, not touching though. Which is probably what Sanji actually wants – always had been a bit funny about any too direct an offer of comfort. Something Zeff’s probably as much to blame for as anything else in his life.

“You have no idea how many times I nearly did.”

“Probably for the best you didn’t,” Zeff says because he can’t have his kid feeling guilty for doing the smart thing. “I don’t know if I’d have been able to keep away if you did.”

Neither he nor his ship these days are made for the journey to the Grand Line. And it wouldn’t have been good for Sanji or the rest of the crew of his to have an old pirate getting underfoot while they were making names for themselves on history’s pages.

“Hell, I’m gonna’ struggle letting you sail off with my grandkids with you now. You better come visit more than you have been!” He doesn’t actually hold it against them and damn well know the reason why this is the first time he’s seen them since Sanji left to join a pirate crew. But he still missed years of his grandkids lives as a result and they had better make up for it.

#zosan #One Piece #One Piece mpreg #mpreg #zoro x sanji #one piece zosan #op zosan #One Piece omegaverse #omegaverse #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #red leg zeff #I accidently a ficlet

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suffersinfandom · 10 months

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Alright, I’m gonna talk about Ed and abuse.

“Why? Why are you spending your precious time on Earth typing about some dumb fandom stuff when you could be doing literally anything else?”

In short, seeing the “Ed is an abuser who’s inevitably going to hurt Stede” takes has been driving me absolutely bonkers since I first noticed them. They’re not going away, so I have to essay about it.

In less-short: it’s because abuse is a serious thing and, as someone who’s experienced it, I get riled when it becomes a topic of discourse in my silly pirate fandom. It’s because it’s upsetting to read meta after meta accusing an indigenous man of being an abuser when the text doesn't support that reading. It’s because a lot of the abuse discourse in the fandom fails to separate real-life abuse from violence in a show. It’s because the vast majority of the abuse talk only acknowledges physical abuse which, while terrible, is not the only kind that hurts people and utterly destroys their lives.

It’s because calling Ed abusive or insisting that he’s a future abuser can harm people who are like him -- people who have suffered abuse or get angry sometimes or have hurt people when they were hurt. Victims of abuse, especially those who dealt with it in childhood, often fear becoming abusers themselves. They bottle up their anger for fear of hurting someone. They hurt themselves in a misguided attempt to protect others. They don’t need to see meta that enforces their fears.

Before I get into it…

I may as well come clean and say that I’m on team Ed absolutely isn’t abusive.

Plenty has been typed in Ed’s defense by POC in the fandom, so I’m not going to go into how deeply unfortunate it would be to make an indigenous main character an abuser. I’m just going to say that, when you consider OFMD’s genre and attitude towards violence, it seems clear to me that you can’t call Ed abusive without calling out other characters unless you have some kind of bias against Ed. His actions are deplorable in the real world, a bit much in OFMD’s world, deeply unhealthy, not okay by any means, and shitty and traumatizing for his crew, but they aren’t abusive.

Remember: Our Flag Means Death is a comedy with tons of over-the-top violence. If your theory is unrelentingly grim or looks at violence and its consequences in a real-world light, consider stepping back and remembering what genre the events of the show are happening in.

And if you think that only the violence committed by the indigenous lead is abuse, look at the actions of the other characters and ask yourself why Ed doesn’t get the same grace you’ve granted the others.

What is abuse in the real world?

Abuse “includes [a pattern of] behaviors that physically harm, intimidate, manipulate, or control a partner or otherwise force them to behave in ways they don’t want to. This can happen through physical violence, threats, emotional abuse, or financial control.” (1)

“Emotional abuse includes non-physical behaviors that are meant to control, isolate, or frighten someone. These behaviors are often more subtle and hard to identify but are just as serious as other types of abuse.” (2)

It’s important to emphasize that not all purposeful harm to another person, physical or otherwise, is abuse. “What abuse really means is control. When a truly abusive situation exists, it’s because one party is seeking to control the other through abuse.” (2)

Abuse is a pattern of behavior that involves one person intentionally harming another. That harm is meant to control, and it can take on more forms than just physical.

In our world, all abuse is terrible. Vitally, our world is not a pirate rom-com.

Adding context: what is abuse in Our Flag Means Death?

Our Flag Means Death is a romantic comedy with one core romantic couple, Ed and Stede, whose story takes priority over everything else. It can be dark, it can be serious, but it is, at its core, a comedy, and not a subtle one at that. (3) Sometimes things are just funny and that’s it.

The show’s meanings aren’t hidden under layers of red herrings and subtext; if you’re compelled to bring out the conspiracy corkboard, you’re probably in too deep.

But this isn’t just a rom-com: it’s a pirate rom-com, and that comes with gratuitous violence. Here’s a short, fun list of examples of things that we can consider canon-typical pirate violence:

Tying hostages to the mast and letting them cook a bit

Wanton murder during a raid (“Note the gusto!”)

Threatening a crush at gunpoint until they stab you

Whippies and yardies

Cutting off toes and feeding them to people “for a laugh”

Literally any violence directed at a racist (this violence is, in fact, good and encouraged)

There’s also the pirate-typical killing of other pirates. Duels don’t seem entirely unusual, and Izzy outright tries to get Stede killed at several points in season one. When Chauncey Badminton and the English navy show up after being summoned by Izzy, Stede’s life isn’t the only one on the line: the rest of the crew is also put in potentially life-threatening danger.

In short, Our Flag Means Death has a lot of violence and peril, and very few instances of violence (looking at you, Hornigold) are treated as anything other than socially acceptable. But do you know what’s really important in the show?

Feelings.

The way characters feel as a result of something is given an immense amount of weight. The show’s subtleties are in the realms of the mental and the emotional, and that’s where the real pain is too.

Nigel Badminton’s death was bad because it was emotionally and mentally devastating for Stede. Ed’s father’s murder was bad because it hurt him and forced him to create a monstrous alter ego to cope. Both of those men -- Nigel and Father Teach -- are totally acceptable casualties. Their deaths would be net positives (in this universe where abusers are punished for their behavior) if they hadn’t had such strong impacts on our leads.

Feelings are everything in Our Flag Means Death, and the feelings of our leads are the heart of the show. That’s where the story is. That’s where the complexity and ambiguity is.

So what is abuse in this context? The casual treatment of physical violence and the seriousness of emotional distress tell us to adjust our own moral judgments accordingly. Physical violence is everyday, straightforward, and often comedic; emotional violence is devastating and complicated. Physical violence is cartoonish and, often, part of a punchline. Emotional violence is real and raw and not a joking matter. Planning to murder a guy and steal his identity can be shrugged off; ditching your boyfriend after experiencing a traumatic event is more complicated.

When we ask ourselves if something in OFMD is abuse, we have to consider the act in the context of a rom-com that’s all about the feelings of two guys, set against the violent backdrop of piracy, and absolutely packed with people getting maimed and murdered in casual, comedic ways.

So...

Is Ed abusive in the context of the show?

No.

Aaaand we’re done!

Joking, joking. Obviously I’m going to pick out the examples of “abuse” that people cite and discuss each one, but first: we need to talk about Ed, violence, and anger.

Ed is not a violent person. He’s not full of rage that’s threatening to erupt at all times, and he’s not some kind of sadist who revels in hurting people. The violence of Blackbeard is a fuckery: it's the theater of fear, an illusion of cruelty calculated to terrify others into surrendering and obeying without (much) bloodshed.

Ed has his whole thing with murder that's rooted in childhood trauma. Killing his abusive father to protect his mother scars him so badly that he distances himself from the situation -- he blames Father Teach’s death on the Kraken, an invented monster. As a pirate, he creates loopholes and rules that technically put one step between him and killing (in his mind). He orders murders and causes deaths and maims and maintains his image as the bloodthirsty Blackbeard, but Ed doesn’t do “the big job” himself until the end of season two. When Stede’s life is in the balance, Ed can kill to protect him.

Edward Teach kills only to protect.

But that’s killing, and we’re talking about general violence. It's true that Ed is casual about the day-to-day violence of piracy. He participates in it, incites it, and doesn’t feel bad about it. No one does; violence is part of the job.

That leaves us with the "anger problem." Ed is sometimes characterized as an angry person who lashes out when enraged, and canon doesn't at all support this interpretation. Ed gets mad, yes, but his anger is always at least understandable (and, in my opinion, he's one of our more restrained characters). It isn’t a constant, simmering thing that turns him into an abusive monster when he’s triggered. He doesn't always deal with his anger -- or any of his other feelings -- in a good and constructive way because both of our leads lack emotional maturity, but I think it's a grave mistake to characterize him as an angry person.

Hopefully I can elaborate on this idea -- the idea that Ed is only violent and angry in a normal and canon-appropriate way, and anger is by no means one of his defining characteristics -- by doing a run-down of all of the times Ed is accused of being abusive or showing signs of being an abuser-in-the-making.

---

Ed loses his shit on a falling snake during his nature adventure with Stede (S1E7). In this scene, he’s embarrassed about the treasure hunt, oblivious to Stede's intentions, and annoyed by the very existence of nature. He is not relaxed. When nature takes him by surprise, he stabs the crap out of it in a scene that is played for comedy. There’s the important part: this is comedy. Ed is grumpy and his childish tantrum is harmless and silly. It isn’t a red flag. Overreacting while irritated isn’t an indicator that someone will be abusive.

Ed punches Izzy after the English have taken the Revenge, captured Stede, and turned Ed over to Izzy (S1E9). Honestly, I think the fact that Ed lets Izzy talk before punching him demonstrates a great deal of restraint on his part. This is justified anger and fear for Stede’s life. This is not an indicator that Ed makes a habit of hitting Izzy.

In his post-pillow fort era, Ed is cleaning up his cabin when Izzy confronts him (S1E10). Izzy insults Ed, tells him that he’d be better off dead than as he currently is, and says that he serves only Blackbeard (Ed better watch his fucking step). Ed reacts by grabbing Izzy by the throat and telling him to choose his next words carefully. This is, in my opinion, a reasonable reaction and exactly the response Izzy was fishing for. The only pattern this scene indicates is one where Izzy goads Ed until he starts performing the violence expected of Blackbeard.

Which takes us to The Toe Scene.

In real life, it would be extremely fucked up for a boss to remove an employee’s toe and make him eat it. OFMD is not real life. One episode earlier, Ed was talking about the life he was glad to leave behind -- the life where The Toe Thing was done “for a laugh.” Not as punishment, but for fun. It’s set up as something that’s gross (“yuck”), not a grave punishment. When Ed feeds Izzy his toe, he gives Izzy what be asked for: he gives him a violent captain. He gives him Blackbeard. He gives him the guy who fed people toes for fun.

But what’s important here is that Ed is not having fun. He’s having a lot less fun than Izzy is, going by their expressions in the scene. This isn’t who he wants to be, but after having the possibility of a better life snatched away, Ed throws himself back into the sure thing. He becomes the Kraken -- the captain Izzy wants, the violent monster that Ed thinks he is and tries to distance himself from, and the only thing Ed thinks he can be. It’s sad. It’s desperation, not anger and abuse.

In the second season, Ed headbutts Stede after he’s revived from his coma-death (S2E4). In the next scene, Stede is holding a cold steak to his face and calling it an accident. Roach says “that’s what they all say” -- a line that alludes to domestic violence. The thing is? It’s not, and the crew has expectations of Ed that Stede doesn’t (as indicated by Stede's earlier assertion that Ed's a nice guy in response to Olu's concern that Ed will kill him).

Ed is freshly out of a coma (or newly alive). He’s nonverbal. His brain is, medically speaking, couscous. He still has one foot in the gravy basket. When he sees the man who left him hovering over him -- the man he loves, the man who just appeared to him as a mermaid -- he tries to say something. When that fails, he resorts to a headbutt. This is a single violent action perpetrated by a confused and hurt man who doesn’t know what to do with all of his feelings. He can't talk. He can't push Stede away.

Stede understands all of this, even if the other characters don’t. He sees the headbutt for what it is: a bit of a bitchy move. He isn’t afraid of Ed. He never is.

Stede also isn’t afraid of Ed when he acts out later that episode. When Ed learns that Stede went back to Mary, he excuses himself from the dinner table, smashes a chair against the wall, and knocks a vase to the ground. In this entire episode (this entire season), Ed is having intense feelings that he doesn’t know how to express or work through. The reveal that Stede returned to his wife is the final straw. He takes his tangled feelings out on an acceptable target (a chair, a vase) instead of Stede because he doesn’t want to hurt Stede.

This looks like displacement -- when “an unacceptable feeling or thought about a person, place or thing is redirected towards a safer target.” Displacement is an “intermediate level coping mechanism.” That is, it’s more sophisticated than the ways children deal with intense issues, but it’s still not entirely mature. In an adult, it indicates a level of emotional immaturity. (4) Ed is emotionally immature, not inherently violent. He gets overwhelmed by his feelings and lashes out -- not at a person, but at something that can’t get hurt.

Displacement is not an indicator that someone is an abuser. It’s a coping mechanism. It’s an attempt at emotional regulation. It’s not the best coping mechanism, but it’s not a sign that someone is going to go into a rage and assault people.

Stede cringes when Ed smashes the chair and sends the vase crashing to the ground, but he’s not afraid of Ed. He is never afraid of Ed because he knows that Ed isn’t a real threat to him. He cringes because sometimes that's what a person does when a loud thing happens. That's what people do when chair shrapnel starts flying. Also? It's kind of embarrassing behavior on Ed's part. They're guests enjoying a mediocre dinner! That's no way to act!

And this leaves us with the first two episodes of season two.

Ed is fully in his Kraken era. He has no hope that Stede will return, he no longer trusts the crew, and he feels trapped in a life he absolutely doesn’t want. He thinks that he has to perform Blackbeard until death sets him free. He sobs in his cabin when no one’s looking. Publicly, Ed fades into the role of remorseless and bloodthirsty pirate captain.

Needless to say, this makes for a shit work environment. Ed works the crew (and himself) too hard. He drinks and does drugs (note that his drug of choice is rhino horn -- visually coded as cocaine -- instead of alcohol, the drug associated with his father) and runs everyone ragged. He’s an absolutely terrible boss, but he isn’t abusive.

That isn’t to say that the crew left on the Revenge isn’t traumatized. They are! They’ve been thrown off balance by the sudden change for the worse in someone who was previously a pretty cool guy, and they’re traumatized by the neverending violence that the constant raids -- raids that are bloody and deadly, not the fuckeries of the past -- demand of them. They’re traumatized by that final night in the storm when Ed does everything in his power to goad them into killing him, almost murdering everyone in the process. They’re traumatized by their own attempt at murder and their own capacities for violence.

In S2E4, Blackbeard’s crew has flashbacks to the violence they perpetrated under the Kraken: Jim fighting Archie, Fang breaking a man over his knee. They’re haunted by guilt about what they did to Ed, as evidenced by their Lady Macbeth-style scrubbing. Their own violence is a significant part of their trauma.

No, that doesn’t absolve Ed. He drove the violence -- demanded it of both the crew and himself. He hurt other people because he was hurting, and that’s terrible.

Ed’s behavior in the first two episodes of season two is horrible, especially when his desperation reaches a fever pitch, but there's no attempt to control and no habitual mistreatment. Nothing he's doing is normal for him. He's spiraling and unraveling and pulling the world apart around him. Not all bad or violent behavior is abuse.

(We also have to ask ourselves just how bad Ed’s behavior really is. Archie, someone from the pirate world who has no idea what the Revenge was like pre-Kraken, tells Jim “that’s how these things usually go” at the height of Ed’s violence. She doesn’t act like she experienced anything out of the ordinary.)

But what about Izzy?

What about Izzy indeed. Let’s walk through the first two episodes.

One of the first things we see Ed do in season two is shoot a man. At first this seems like the show telling us that Ed is embracing the kind of violence he couldn’t manage before, but if we pay attention, we can see that he’s still following his “not a murderer on a technicality” logic. The man he shoots has a sword through his chest; he's as good as dead. He also falls offscreen before Ed shoots, making the action less impactful.

OFMD is not subtle and this is a quick way to communicate what’s going on with Ed. He’s not doing well and he’s more violent than he was last season, but he’s still himself under the Kraken’s makeup. He hasn’t done a moral one-eighty. If the show wanted us to think that Ed's a monster, they would have made him a hell of a lot more violent.

So. Izzy.

Immediately after Ed tells Izzy that he’s replaceable in S2E1, we reach the scene that some point to as proof of domestic violence. This is where Izzy breaks down because he has just been told in no uncertain terms that he’s not Blackbeard’s special little guy. That’s devastating to him, and he cries when the crew approaches him with kindness and sympathy.

Jim tells Izzy he’s in an unhealthy relationship with Blackbeard. Frenchie describes their relationship as “toxic.”

A toxic relationship is “any relationship [between people who] don’t support each other, where there’s conflict and one seeks to undermine the other, where there’s competition, where there’s disrespect and a lack of cohesiveness." (5) And you know what? Yes, Ed and Izzy definitely have a toxic relationship. And is their relationship unhealthy? It sure is -- for both of them. But the crew is, understandably, more sympathetic towards Izzy because they’ve never been present when Izzy was hurting Ed.

(Only tangentially related, but the crew must have really liked Ed pre-Kraken. As far as they know, the man went dark with no warning or cause. They deal with him for approximately three months (assuming one raid a day), and he has to go so far before they put an end to him. Remember when they were ready to toss Izzy overboard after, like, twelve hours under his command?)

Even though they only have one side of the Izzy and Ed story, the crew isn’t accusing Ed of domestic abuse. The term doesn’t apply to the mutually fucked-up thing that Izzy and Ed have and, beyond that, the scene is played for laughs. Jim and Frenchie use comically modern language. The whole thing feels like an intervention for a stressed-out middle manager with a shitty boss. It's funny. It's a comical thing in a comedy show.

Izzy returns to Ed and tells him that the crew won’t throw treasure overboard to make room for more treasure. Ed says, “And that’s another toe.” Losing a toe is the penalty for failing the kind of captain that Izzy said he will serve. It’s obviously not okay to punish an underling by taking toes, but we’ve already established that toe-removal isn’t a cruel and unusual pirate punishment.

(Specifically, toe-chopping is the cost of Izzy’s failure. Frenchie disobeys and lies to Ed in his short time as first mate and he doesn’t lose a single toe. Izzy bears the brunt of Ed’s cruelty because he’s the one who demanded it.)

This is not who Ed wants to be, but it’s who he thinks he has to be. It’s who Izzy told him to be.

Next, Izzy makes the mistake of invoking Stede and Ed storms above deck. He holds the crew at gunpoint, one by one, and asks them if they think that the vibes on the ship are poisonous. No one gives him a positive answer and Ed turns the gun on himself. He works himself up until Izzy interrupts and the following exchange happens:

IZZY: “The atmosphere on this ship is fucked. Everyone knows why.” ED: “Well, I don’t. Enlighten me.” IZZY: “Your feelings for Stede fucking Bo--”

[Ed shoots Izzy in the leg. Ed steps over him on his way back to his cabin.]

ED: “Throw this shit overboard and get suited up.”

The fucked up vibe is not because of Ed's feelings for Stede. Ed's feelings for Stede resulted in Ed having a nineties-rom-com-style breakdown and proposing a talent show. The Kraken and the ensuing fucked atmosphere were ushered in by Izzy.

Izzy is only shot after he proposes talking it through (something he attacked Ed for in S1E10) and publicly places all of the blame on Ed's feelings (feelings that he previously threatened Ed about -- Izzy owes his loyalty to Blackbeard, not a "namby pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend" who would be better off dead). Whatever Izzy's intentions are, it's not irrational for Ed to interpret this as a further threat or an attempt to stir up a mutiny.

What’s important for this post is this: Ed's actions are not unusually cruel for a pirate captain who considers his first mate out of line. Shooting someone in the leg is the kind of thing that the idea of Blackbeard that Izzy worships does to maintain his reputation.

Fang cries when Ed shoots Izzy because he knows Blackbeard. He has been with Blackbeard longer than anyone else, and this isn’t Blackbeard. Blackbeard doesn’t work his crew this hard. Blackbeard doesn’t disregard the deaths of long-time crewmates like Ivan. Blackbeard doesn’t shoot his own crew. Fang is off-balance and distraught because his captain of twenty years is acting far, far more cruel than the one he knew.

This is not Ed as he usually is. Ed at his worst is breaking all of his past patterns. He’s behaving like a different person. His actions at this point in time are not typical of his past actions or predicative of his future actions.

When we reach S2E2, Ed is chipper. He’s cleaning up, he’s tying up loose ends, and he has decided that, no matter what, this is the day that he dies. He’s determined. First, he’ll give Izzy a go at killing him; next is the storm, the destruction of the steering wheel, and taking increasingly desperate actions to get the crew to stop him. He tells Jim and Archie to fight to the death. He goes to blow the mast away with a cannon and doesn’t react as nameless crew members are being washed overboard.

Ed is stopped only by Izzy’s reappearance and the violent mutiny that follows.

None of what Ed does here is abuse. This is desperate violence. This is an unwell man begging everyone around him to send him to doggy heaven.

And finally, we have the big murder party in the season finale. A surprising number of fans interpret Ed’s willingness to cut down naval officers as a sure sign that he’s gotten worse and he’s more violent than ever. This is, in my opinion, a take that completely ignores everything we know about Ed and his relationship to violence.

It bears repeating: Edward Teach kills only to protect. He murders his father to protect his mother. He kills as Blackbeard to protect himself (and no matter how he tries to distance himself from that violence, he still causes deaths). He mows down colonists for Stede. He kills for safety and for love, and by the end of season two, he has made some kind of peace with the Kraken and his own capacity for violence.

It’s sweet. It wouldn’t be sweet in the real world, but in this world? In a world where physical violence is funny more often than it’s serious? In a world full of pirate characters who all have hefty body counts? It’s growth. It’s Ed healing.

Ed is doing better. He’s not a threat to the man he loves, and now he’s not a threat to himself either.

Anyway.

No, Ed is not abusive. No, there’s no indication that Ed will become abusive in the future.

Dislike characters. Take issue with things. Feel whatever you want to feel, but remember that abuse survivors are not a monolith. Consider, just for a moment, that the abuse you think you see in the show is not textual. Ask yourself if Ed is truly worse than all of the other characters or if you have some bias warping your view of him.

Finally: please keep in mind that I’m not trying to present The One True Interpretation. I’m just rolling all of my arguments and thoughts into a ball and throwing it out into the wild. You don’t have to agree with me but, if you don’t, I hope you’ll at least consider what I'm saying.

Peace and love and goodbye.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #edward teach #long meta #like too fucking long #abuse #tw abuse #cw abuse #me typing things #fandom critical #kinda?

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exaltedfuzz · 5 months

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Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

#art #my art #ace attorney #ema skye #lana skye #writing #exaltedfuzz #skye sisters

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thefandomlesbian · 10 months

Text

Inspired by the post by @oddlittlestories about Wilson touching House's sensitive points--specifically, the mention of the strongyloides patient and the afterlife. This is something I've been stewing on for awhile.

I don't think House's issue with the afterlife and the strongyloides patient was solely stemming from his own personal obsession or ongoing issues with suicidality related to his disability.

4x03, 97 Seconds, is only four episodes after 3x22 Resignation, in which House discovers Wilson has been taking antidepressants and it's implied Wilson has been struggling with his depression and simultaneously refuses to tell House anything about it, no matter how House pries. House makes his own inferences, that this is either a new thing or a change in prescription because of worsening depression, but Wilson deflects when he tries to ask. It's one of Wilson's sensitive points. We learn (and House explicitly observes later) that Wilson shuts down particularly painful topics, mostly relating to loss, and this is one that he shuts down hard and fast by accusing House of not caring about him.

House, true to character when it comes to all things Wilson, assumes the worst. We don't know what Wilson is actually going through, that's left to be guessed at by the audience, but we do know that House has been effectively shut out while continuing to be concerned.

And then, only a few episodes later, we get two different patients: a man who experienced cardiac arrest and replicates it in front of House for the thrill, and a physically disabled man who discusses being free of his mortal body. We see House and Wilson have exchanges about both of these patients. First, about the knife in the outlet patient:

House repeatedly tries to draw Wilson back to the topic of suicidality, why? how? what was the plan? and Wilson repeatedly avoids the topic until he gives up and leaves the scene sooner than have the conversation. My read: The implication is that Wilson at some point in the past (whether or not this is recent past or long past, we don't know) dealt intimately with suicidal ideation that makes him uncomfortable, either personally or with a family member (maybe his brother). House takes this as confirmation.

So then, this scene is followed up later in the episode, where Wilson and House together are with the disabled strongyloides patient, who is telling them he does not want cancer treatment. The patient says death will be a relief--in front of Wilson, House looks at him before he addresses the patient. It triggers a knee-jerk reaction, anger.

House recognizes he oversteps and leaves the patient, but the argument continues between him and Wilson in the hallway. It goes much deeper than trying to talk a terminally ill man into living a few months longer, because the argument isn't really about him; he's just a narrative vessel for this conversation between these two characters.

The most popular read for this exchange is that House is arguing for himself, that he thinks misery isn't a good enough reason to take his life and he is telling himself that death isn't a worthy escape (which is definitely a valid read of the scene). But given the recent context of Wilson's depression, his utter refusal to share anything with House and therefore the audience, his complete discomfort with the suggestion of suicidal ideation and all the big questions like why and how and what for... I don't think House's actions after this scene are for House.

We have this argument where Wilson is arguing in defense of a man who is passively suicidal. "You don't know death isn't better, you can't know, death could be better. There could be a solace after all of this, you don't know." If this conversation is framed in context of Wilson being depressed and having potentially been suicidal, he's not defending the patient--he's defending himself, for having had those thoughts. And House is arguing with him, against those thoughts. Wilson's conclusion is you can't go to the afterlife and see how much it sucks.

Of course House's conclusion is to go to the afterlife and see how much it sucks.

This is the song playing while House contemplates what he needs to do.

Starting over anew without a partner, not knowing how to make sense of things, becoming a new terrified person in lieu of someone who is supposed to be there--that's where his mind is. He goes to look at the electrical outlet patient, just staring in silence. What could be so good that it needs to be revisited? He must be wrong. (Note that at no point does House ever share with Wilson that the electrical outlet patient's claim that death was the best 97 seconds of his life--he asks Wilson why but never follows up with the answer.)

So House pages Amber and tries to try to kill himself, as convoluted as it sounds, so he can know the afterlife isn't good. So he can have proof. So he'll have evidence. He'll know it sucks, even worse than Detroit, they can't have this argument again.

House says it explicitly. "You insisted that I needed to see for myself." He had to know.

House wants to talk about what he experienced. He deliberately seeks out someone who will understand, asks for that person specifically, he wants to share. But with Wilson, he digs in his heels. Entrenched. We see that Wilson is generally the person House shares personal things with, such as the suspected identity of his biological father, he goes directly to Wilson after Dominika leaves in S8, he seeks him out throughout the Stacy arc in S2, pesters him while the fellows are fleeing in S3 even after the Tritter arc, his soft place to land during and after rehab in S6--Wilson is House's number one confidant.

Not on this subject. He refuses to say anything, except, "I love you." He doesn't respond to Wilson's criticism that he's already had near-death experiences before; he doesn't bite at any of the bait. Not talking about it. The person he wants to share with isn't there, so he doesn't share, not even with Wilson. The only thing we get as the audience is his dialogue to the corpse at the end of the episode.

This is also not something he shares with Wilson. Too much of a sensitive spot, too tender.

But all leading to my conclusion that... House didn't put the knife in the electrical socket for himself. As Wilson points out, House has had multiple near-death experiences. He doesn't need to almost die to find out what happens. He's already seen it. He already knows.

The character who has most recently displayed new depressive tendencies in this context isn't House. Wilson is the one refusing to discuss his mental health, ostensibly taking new psych drugs or minimally increasing the dosages, becoming uncomfortable with conversations about the difficult questions of suicide, and verbally defending a man's desire to die to end the mortal coil.

House didn't put the knife in the electrical socket to fight release for himself. He's been in chronic pain for a decade at this point, it hasn't changed, he has treated patients with self-destructive tendencies in the interim with no impact to his own mental health. This event didn't strike at a vulnerable time for House; it struck at a time when House knows Wilson is struggling, specifically when he has already tried to offer help and Wilson accused him of not caring. He had to do something.

House put the knife in the outlet to fight for Wilson. To have evidence, to talk him down. "See? I proved it. There's nothing. Now you know for sure. Now you have to stay with me."

That would be too saccharine. But he says, "I love you," and that's what he means.

#house md #hilson #house x wilson #meta #spencer speaks #this is obviously entirely my opinion and my own interpretation of the text #tw suicidal ideation

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one-flower-one-sword · 6 months

Note

Sending virtual hugs! 🌸

I’m wondering about your thoughts on Xie Lian and how he views Hua Cheng and the Gambling Den.

He expressed to Hua Cheng his concerns about how dangerous it is, and let it go when he understood that he and Hua Cheng have differing views on the matter.

It makes me wonder how things would have unfolded if the man who gambled to have his competitors die or give his daughter’s life and marriage if he lost, had been able to complete his bet without interruption. Like how much is Hua Cheng involved in something like that?

Would that man simply have walked away with the luck he needed to get what he wanted? I can’t see Hua Cheng actively hunting down and killing those people.

But I can see him allowing the man the luck needed to make his desires come true - so not actively engaging but not interfering with the man’s terrible decisions - kind of like with how he dealt with He Xuan.

I’m not completely sold on that thought though…😅 your thoughts?

Thank you! 🌸

And thank you for your ask! I love talking about Ghost City :3

I've thought about similar things regarding the Gambler's Den, but ultimately, I think it's on purpose that we don't find out for sure and are left to wonder. Especially since, at this point in the story, both the reader and Xie Lian are still slowly uncovering who Hua Cheng is as a person.

When we look at this scene after everything is revealed, I think it's quite clear from the mockingly derisive way he talks to him that Hua Cheng did not like that guy, and I wonder if he would even have taken that second bet if Xie Lian and the others hadn't been there - he seems to have a pretty good understanding of Lang Qianqiu's character when be talks about him with Xie Lian later, so I can see him use that second bet as a lure to make Lang Qianqiu cause a commotion. Because then Hua Cheng gets to "discover" that Xie Lian and the others are there, which means he has a reason to invite Xie Lian to Paradise Manor, which is necessary to make that whole "have them rescue 'Ming Yi' so that He Xuan's cover isn't blown" plan work.

As an aside, though of course Hua Cheng is always happy when he gets to spend time with Xie Lian, I think he must have deeply hated deceiving him like this. It speaks to how much he values his arrangement with He Xuan and how vital the information He Xuan provides is to him - which is proven when right after this, the whole Fang Xin reveal happens. Without He Xuan monitoring what's happening in heaven and relaying the information to him, Hua Cheng wouldn't have known that Xie Lian got locked inside his palace and couldn't have come to rescue him.

Back to the topic at hand though. I think it's worth looking at the actual dialog when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng discuss the den because there's so much in there:

After some hesitation, Xie Lian spoke up again. "San Lang, it may be out of line for me, but I still have to say it. That Gambler's Den of yours is incredibly dangerous. Won't it blow up in your face one day?"

A place that allowed the betting of sons and daughters and people's lives, granting wishes for others' sudden deaths - it was dreadfully sinful. Never mind a little brawl; if one day the bets got out of hand, the Heavenly Realm wouldn't be able to stay on the sidelines.

Hua Cheng gave him a look.

"Your Highness, did you ask Lang Qianqiu why he had to jump into that mess?"

Xie Lian was slightly taken aback, not quite understanding the intent of the question.

Hua Cheng continued, "I bet he must have told you that if he didn't do it, no one else would."

He was amazingly on the mark, obviously having seen through Lang Qianqiu.

"That's indeed what he said." Xie Lian admitted.

"Then I'm the complete opposite," Hua Cheng said. "If I don't control a place like this, then someone else will. I'd rather that person be me."

Xie Lian knew when to back down, and he nodded. "I understand."

It seemed, although Hua Cheng was the sentimental sort, he also cared more about control and power than Xie Lian realized.

It's fascinating that it we look at what Xie Lian actually says and thinks here, what he mainly seems to be worried about is what would happen to Hua Cheng and his friendship with Hua Cheng should Jun Wu be given reason to actively start going against him. Which is also what Xie Lian worries about during this entire mission - what will happen if it turns out Hua Cheng is involved with a heavenly official's disappearance and heaven retaliates, what will happen if he's not involved and Xie Lian has destroyed their friendship by deceiving him. It doesn't matter to Xie Lian that Hua Cheng is a Ghost King and that they're technically on opposite sides - he's decided based on his own experiences and judgment that Hua Cheng is a good person and a good friend, and he's already at this point very protective of him. Especially since he's not unaware that the heavenly realm in general and Jun Wu in particular do not share his opinion on Hua Cheng, and the political implications thereof:

Jun Wu turned around. "Tell me, what kind of extraordinary character did you engage with when you descended this time?"

Xie Lian raised his hand. "My Lord, I swear I did nothing. Just, one day by chance, I encountered an interesting young man on the road, and we spent some time together. I didn't think much of it."

Ju Wu nodded. "Chance encounter, young man, Supreme Ghost King. Xianle, surely you are aware what the consequences would be if Ming Guang was to question you further and you confessed to this in front of the other officials? No one would believe you."

"Xianle knows," Xie Lian replied woefully. "So, I'm grateful for My Lord's timely intervention. My Lord, you're not actually going to interrogate me, are you? I wouldn't collude with the Ghost Realm. These are absurd concerns."

"Naturally, I know you would not intentionally collude with the Ghost Realm," Jun Wu said.

"I'm grateful for My Lord's trust," Xie Lian replied.

Xie Lian is definitely stretching the truth here with the "I didn't think much of it" part, given that by the end of his investigation in Banyue, he damn well knew that the "interesting young man" was Supreme Ghost King Hua Cheng, and then he kept spending time with him regardless. He's very careful about protecting their friendship by downplaying it and being vague, and further than that, he's very careful about protecting Hua Cheng. We've already seen this earlier when Pei Ming was interrogating him - Xie Lian even pretended not to know who that "red-clothed young man" was because he rightfully deduced that Pei Ming would try to use Hua Cheng as a scapegoat to get Xiao Pei off the hook. Then when Pei Ming does try to pin the whole thing on Hua Cheng, Xie Lian immediately speaks up in his defense:

"General Pei, let's keep things clear and separate. Let's not talk about whether the young man I traveled with was Hua Cheng or not. At the very least, even if he was indeed Hua Cheng, that has nothing to do with what General Pei Junior has done. A Supreme Ghost King might have the worst possible name on people's tongues, but not everything can be blamed on him."

I find it very telling that the reason Xie Lian is being so carefully vague is less so he himself won't get into trouble and more that he's very aware that if Hua Cheng gets wrongfully accused, no one will question it simply because of who and what Hua Cheng is. And it's that kind of injustice and prejudice that Xie Lian will always stand up against. At this point he still completely trusts Jun Wu, but when it comes to Hua Cheng, Xie Lian not only disagrees but actively disobeys, though he's careful about how much of that he shows in front of Jun Wu:

Jun Wu shook his head. "I should not comment on the friends you make, but I will say this: Be careful of Hua Cheng."

Hearing this, Xie Lian bowed his head slightly, keeping his eyes down and saying nothing. He should've responded with "Yes, My Lord," as he should have been able to say yes with ease by that point. Yet, for some reason, he really didn't want to say that particular "yes".

Hua Cheng likewise also understands his and Xie Lian's respective positions and is careful not to endanger Xie Lian. Like here, when he explains why he put up somewhat of an act of not knowing Xie Lian because there were other heavenly officials present:

"Since gege is here, why not come in? We haven't been apart for that long, so don't be a stranger to San Lang."

At his beckoning, Xie Lian let down the beaded curtain. "Earlier in the Gambler's Den, it was San Lang who pretended not to recognize me."

Hua Cheng approached and stopped at Xie Lian's side. "Lang Qianqiu was there too, so if I didn't put on an act, I'd be giving gege trouble."

Or here when he's content to be accused of having maliciously kidnapped Xie Lian if that means Xie Lian won't be suspected of resisting his arrest and made to look guilty:

Xie Lian finally understood. Shi Qingxuan could see that Hua Cheng had no ill intent, but on the surface, they had to pretend that Hua Cheng had only barged into the Heavens to collect his due. It would prevent gossip from those how might suggest that Xie Lian had maliciously and intentionally absconded. Hua Cheng understood Shi Qingxuan's intent and had played along. However, Xie Lian didn't want to go this route.

"All right, stop acting. He only came to the Heavens to save me. San Lang had good intentions, so why conceal them?"

Hua Cheng does this to protect Xie Lian, but Xie Lian likewise wants to protect him. This has ended up quite long-winded, but I wanted to look for more evidence of why I think that Xie Lian mainly brought up the Gambler's Den because he's worried that the bets could end up endangering Hua Cheng himself.

Hua Cheng sincerely thanks Xie Lian for his concern, but makes it clear that he doesn’t quite agree, and I think it's worth looking into why that is.

I've seen Hua Cheng be described as completely amoral by fans, but I don't think that's how the text actually portrays him. He certainly can be quite critical and cynical with his views on both humans and gods, but his reasoning for establishing and keeping the den isn't "I don't care what happens there" or "I want places like this to exist for my own gain". He is, at least from his perspective and based on his experiences, simply being grimly realistic about how if he forbids these kinds of bets, the people who want to conduct them will simply move underground and do their gambling in secret. So not only will these bets happen either way, someone else will eventually take control of such a place, and Hua Cheng doesn't trust that such a person wouldn't take advantage of it.

Hua Cheng isn't amoral, he just has his own perspective on morality and justice. He's also not passive and uncaring in the face of what he perceives as wrong and unjust, but he doesn't really talk about that openly unless prompted. Like here during the Black Water arc, when they discuss the scroll with (supposedly) the names of victims of the Reverend of Empty Words:

Xie Lian turned to Hua Cheng. "San Lang, you said it's full of outrageous mistakes. How so?"

Hua Cheng scooted over to him, they were now sitting much closer than before. Hua Cheng pointed at a few names. "These are wrong."

Xie Lian looked at the names closely; all of them were known to be lawless, malevolently evil tyrants. "How do you know?"

"Because I killed them," Hua Cheng said.

Hua Cheng deeply hates people who abuse the power they wield, to the point that he personally acts against them. I think this ties in well with his reasoning about the Gambler's Den. I don't think there's anything in the text that suggests Xie Lian is upset to realize that Hua Cheng cares more about power and control than he'd thought, just surprised - until he comes to Ghost City, Xie Lian has mostly been around the very laid-back "San Lang", and this is the first time he's encountered Hua Cheng in his own territory, where he's a Ghost King ruling over the largest settlement within the ghost realm.

Also Xie Lian doesn't know this yet, but given everything we later learn about Hua Cheng's past, I think it's quite obvious that Hua Cheng's preoccupation with the power and control he wields, as well as his contempt for those who abuse theirs, is rooted deeply in the trauma he's gone through. Control in particular is a huge thing for him for several reasons, one of the main ones being that as a child, he was repeatedly punished for things outside his control, and he internalized that pattern to the point where he now punishes himself for things outside his control, as is shown repeatedly when he decides he's failed Xie Lian in some way. But I'm going to go into more detail about this in my Hua Cheng + trauma responses meta.

Lastly, I think it's important to keep in mind that the text makes clear that even when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng disagree, rather than a point of conflict it's actually proof of how strong and healthy their relationship is. I've sometimes seen fans (not you) portray their relationship as Xie Lian being irritated with Hua Cheng's attitude towards others, having him either be somewhat grudgingly resigned to it or actively trying to change Hua Cheng's behavior. But when we actually look at the text, we realize that nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the opposite is the case - Xie Lian is incredibly protective of him and repeatedly gets defensive when others judge and blame Hua Cheng. I'm gonna examine that in more detail in my hualian meta though, so for now, I hope this turned out a satisfying answer!

#answered asks #silver-cyn #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #ghost city

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