#but at the same time steers clear because of the trauma

[missxnsuppxrt]

Since it’s Easter and Ingrid doesn’t really celebrate it, here’s some traditional Romanian clothing that people usually wear for big festivals. Ingrid has a dress like this from her time spent in Romania as an adult to find her family. She never wears it though, and it stays in an airtight garment bag hanging in her closet. It’s very special to her. It’s handmade and tailored to her.

In her villager verse though, Ingrid wears this for big events in the village pretty regularly as I assume everyone else does.

[rebelspykatie]

Steve’s never had anyone show any genuine interest in the things he likes. Robin rolls her eyes when he brings up sports or silly movies that don’t have a bigger plot or character work. Even though she played soccer, she doesn’t care about it in the same way that Steve cares about basketball or football. 

The kids make fun of everything from his taste in music to his choice in snacks for movie nights. Mike calls him a little housewife for baking one time and he never shows up with cookies again. They’re never intentionally mean spirited, or at least he doesn’t think so. He knows he can give as good as he gets when it comes to catty, sarcastic comments, but he tries to steer clear of personal attacks on someone’s identity these days. He learned that lesson with Jonathan. 

But even before the party came along, it was like that. His parents never stuck around long enough to find out what he was up to, never attending a game or meet, and certainly in the dark about what he might be up to outside of school. Tommy only ever cared about himself and Carol, only following Steve around for clout, popularity by association. If he asked him right now, he’d bet a lot of money that Tommy doesn’t even remember his favorite food or the movie he used to watch when he was sick. There was a point where he thought he could share things with him. Until he realized mid ramble about sports cars that Tommy wasn’t even listening to him. He was staring at Carol and nodding along with a vacant expression. 

So he stopped sharing. Stopped caring if people knew anything about him because they never asked. People always made assumptions about him anyway. The girls he slept with only wanted one thing. The kids were happy to let him chauffeur them around with no questions asked. Robin was the only one he let in, the only one that cared about digging deeper. But, and she never said in so many words, he could tell that she thought his interests were mundane, and clearly not something that sparked any enthusiasm from her. She couldn’t even keep up with the girls he slept with, giving him the same bored stare as Tommy. 

Even now, after a few years, Steve’s reminded that they never would have become friends if not for trauma and the secret inner workings of the Russian’s within Hawkins. He’s lucky to have her, but he doesn’t think she ever would’ve chosen this, chosen him. And that’s fine. He’s used to not being chosen. His parents didn’t choose him when they started leaving him alone at age 12. Tommy and Carol chose each other and the reign of a new king when Steve fell from his throne. Nancy chose Jonathan. 

He doesn’t think he has a lot to offer. 

Well, at least until Eddie comes along. He’s taken by surprise when Eddie asks after the song that’s playing in his car. He’d assumed Eddie only liked metal music, and yeah he pokes fun at the genre of music Steve seems to stick to, begging him to give metal a shot, but he doesn’t say a word about how lame it is. When they’re having a movie night, Eddie notices that Steve gravitates towards coke and brings him one without Steve asking.

After Eddie sees his bedroom, Steve gets a pack of hot wheels for Christmas. Eddie jokes that he should give one to each of the kids as their new ride, since they seem to be ungrateful little twerps. Steve places them right under his posters on his dresser and Eddie grins at them every time he comes over. They lay in bed and pretend to drive them on the ceiling like they’re kids again. It shakes something loose in Steve’s chest. 

Eddie hates sports, but he invites Steve over on Mondays, when Wayne is perched in his chair for football. He quietly works on his campaigns while Steve and Wayne watch the games. Eddie somehow worms his way into Steve’s heart, digging deeper and deeper with each new thing, like he wants to know more. Steve’s history is a minefield, but Eddie expertly navigates through it, leaving who they were behind, building something new together. Steve’s already halfway in love with him before he even realizes that Eddie is something that he likes. 

He expects to freak out a bit more, but who is going to stop him? Who is going to care if he wants to be with this boy? He’s spent so long ignoring parts of himself for others that he wants to cherish this fragile thing, to cradle it in his hands, make sure no one can ruin it for him. When he kisses Eddie, it feels like coming home, like he’s finally found that place he’s been searching for his whole life. It’s a kind of devotion that Steve’s not used to, born of love and not obsession or jealousy or anger. 

He’s not sure he deserves it, but he’ll do everything in his power to keep it.

[traumasurvivors]

Making a safe space if you don’t have one can be so beneficial.

Changing the Appearance

It might mean making an extra effort to turn your bedroom (or apartment, or car) into a safe space. This can especially apply if your bedroom or car look the same as they did when the trauma happened. (Even if it wasn’t where the trauma happened. It could just be a reminder of that time in your life.) Redecorating those spaces to look and feel different may help them feel more safe, often because it will feel like it reflects your style or just feels more like it belongs to you.

Redecorating might mean moving things around, replacing things, removing things or adding new things. Your bed might feel much better with a change of sheets. It might help to add decorative items that cheer you up, or make you smile or laugh, or just make a distinctive change in the appearance of a place. Maybe you cut out some favourite things from magazines to make a collage. Sometimes moving furniture can make a room feel like a completely new place, like changing the position of a dresser or turning your bed 90 degrees. Sometimes small, simple changes can be huge, such as a wrap around the steering wheel of your car. Feeling safe can mean a lot of different things to different people. Think about what you need to feel safe.

Having Comfort Items

It might mean making sure you have comfort items nearby and in their best condition (for instance, if you have a favourite hoodie, make sure it’s clean and ready to wear).

I like to have a self-care box I can easily access. This may include instructions for grounding (I can forget when I’m overwhelmed), comfort items, letters and cards from loved ones and other items. Here are some ideas on how to make one.

Practical Changes

Make the space feel physically safe by making practical changes. Making sure you have working locks might help. Things like keeping pathways clear so you feel you can escape if needed.

I feel safer with bright lights and I may be 30, but I use a nightlight! It offers me comfort at night.

I also do things like arrange my furniture so that its back is to a wall so I can see any entrances to feel prepared. Sitting with my back to an entrance point feels vulnerable so I go out of my way to avoid that.

Different things work for different people and it might take some time to figure out what works for you. You deserve a safe space.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, sexual themes/situations, masturbation

A/N: The series will heavily follow the timeline and events of the show but there will be additional non-canonical events/injuries/etc.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You sat quietly in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck after the caravan had stopped for a problem with the RV. There had been introductions after you had gathered your bearings during the last stop, and your trauma-addled brain was working overtime to retain the information. 

Along with the RV’s issues, the group was currently saying goodbye to one of their own. It seemed too intimate an affair for you to include yourself, an outsider. The man had been bitten. It was your understanding they were all headed for the CDC in Atlanta, desperate for a cure before the sickness could take him. 

But the fever had won, as it always did.  

You watched as the frail man was carefully moved to the base of a tree, but then averted your gaze as they bid him farewell. They were all affected, heads down as they returned—one by one—to their vehicles. They intended to leave him, per his own wishes. You weren’t sure if that was a choice you could make were you the one in his predicament. It was both admirable and ludicrous. 

Daryl returned to the truck, remaining quiet as he climbed behind the wheel. He hadn’t spoken a word to you, which left you with a tight feeling inside your chest that you couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. You wondered if you were only there because of the possibility that his baby was growing inside of you. It hadn’t been mentioned. 

I told ya she’s good.

He hadn’t given the group any information. They knew your name per your own admission, which alone was enough to twist the archer’s face into a scowl. You were a dirty little secret. You had placed your remaining fragments of hope in Daryl after losing everything and he was treating you like he’d left a few loose bills on a dresser after fucking you in a sleazy motel. 

You scrutinized him from the corner of your eye; the way he was tapping the tip of each finger against the steering wheel as he drove. His other arm was resting on the door, the window down, while he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. The broken skin on the sides of the digit suggested that it was indeed a habit he turned to in times of stress. He was consciously trying not to indulge. 

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes on the back of the vehicle in front of you. “I’m sorry about your friend.” You dared a glance at the same time he gave you a once over. 

“Weren’t no friend’a mine.”

Lie. You could clearly see he was affected. It was borderline offensive that he’d even try to deny it. “Right. Well, I’m sorry anyway.” The uncomfortable silence stretched on, leaving you with vivid images of your encounters with the redneck. Even after you had told him you might be pregnant, there hadn’t been this thick tension in the air between the two of you. “Thank you.” He looked at you again, barely moving his hand away from his mouth. “For saving me.”

He hummed, this time parting his lips to nip at the irritated skin of his thumb. You wanted so badly to reach over and guide his hand away, but you knew that was a bad idea. 

“Ya take one’a them tests?”

Ah, there it was. Your back slid down the seat while you nervously twisted the hem of your flannel around your index finger. “Uh, no. I lost them when I ran from the camp.” He shot you a look so quickly you thought he might have given himself whiplash. 

“Y’fuckin’ serious?”

You nodded, expecting an outburst, but you still flinched when his fist came down on the doorframe, keeping it clenched when he brought it back to his mouth. “It was an accident. I wasn’t exactly thinking of them when I was wrestling a geek for my bag. Lost most of my clothes and my canteen, too.”

He let out a condescending humph from behind his hand. “Ya sure it’s even mine?”

Now it was your turn to pin him down with a look of your own. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Means exactly what I said.”

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, along with the urge to throttle him right where he sat, regardless of the fact that he was driving. “Well, there was that other hunter I’d meet at dawn and then the one that would wait patiently until you got your rocks off first.”

“Ya think your funny?”

“I’m not trying to be funny, asshole. If there’s a baby, unfortunately, it’s yours.” His piercing gaze met your narrowed eyes, only holding for a moment before he had to look back at the road. “Can you pull over?”

“Gonna puke again?”

“No.” You snapped, angling your body toward the door. “I want to get out.”

“Why?”

“Because being trapped in such a small space with you is going to make me puke. Now, pull over.” 

To his credit, he did slow down. “Nah.” He pressed the gas and easily caught up with the car in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, Daryl. I won’t tell anyone your secret.” You hissed the word with such venom that you swore you could taste the remnants of it on the tip of your tongue. 

“Settle down. Ain’t lettin’ ya out so ya can get your fool self killed.” 

You threw yourself back against the seat with more force than necessary, crossing your arms. You wondered if you suddenly began to pray that god or whoever was listening might possibly just see fit to bestow upon you the monthly occurrence that most women deem as a curse. 

This was the reason the time between you in those woods was so limited. No feelings involved. Little to no social information exchanged. You liked the Daryl that made it priority to worship your body and fuck you senseless, his only words being filthy encouragement that would catapult you to and over the edge. Even when he accompanied you to the pharmacy, his presence wasn’t a negative contribution to the journey. You had actually felt oddly—comfortable. 

But the Daryl that you were currently trapped inside a beat up old pickup truck with had spoken all of seven sentences and you wanted to shoot him in the groin. You couldn’t imagine having a child with that man. Didn’t want to imagine it. If only your baser instincts hadn’t been so prominent over common sense when you saw him in the woods that third time. 

You could vomit now when you thought back on that specific meeting. You quite literally propositioned him while stalking toward him and simultaneously ripping off your shirt. He had looked so confused at first but caught up quickly. He was deep inside you while you straddled his lap less than five minutes later. Why hadn’t you at least had the brain power to tempt him just enough and send him to get condoms first? Nope. You jumped straight on his dick like a horny teenager. 

“For the love of fucks sake.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, ashamed at how recalling the carnal moments spent with the man across the bench seat from you had heat pooling at the apex of your thighs. You shifted, crossing your legs and pressing one down on the other, the tough inseam of your jeans rubbing just right over your clit to send a jolt of pleasure all the way down to your toes. You only barely stifled a moan. 

A quick glance found Daryl still watching the road, lighting up a cigarette. Yet another thing you didn’t know about him. You shifted your hips while casting quick, discrete glances. He was seemingly oblivious. Biting your bottom lip, you turned your face toward the window and continued the careful side to side of your hips, very slowly but very steadily working toward what would undoubtedly be a quick and not totally satisfying orgasm. Still, it was better than the alternatives of either sliding your hand into your panties or asking the man beside you to slide his hand into your panties. 

You noticed your breaths quickening and inhaled deeply through your nose to try and calm both that and your heartrate. The hot coil burning in your lower belly was tightening, pulses of pleasure bleeding out to culminate at the swollen bud that your jeans were stimulating. You were so close, almost there—

Daryl cleared his throat, flicking his smoke out the window and unintentionally bringing a sudden halt to any progress you had made toward release. You openly glared at him. 

“What?” He huffed, sneering at your obvious resentment. 

“You’re an asshole.”

It was near dusk when the caravan finally pulled up to the CDC. There had been stops to siphon fuel, take bathroom breaks, and go over plans and strategies. You had remained inside the cab of the truck, not trusted enough to be privy on their plans. You couldn’t really fault them. Even if they had included you, nothing they had said could have prepared you for the devastation outside the government building. 

“We’re really going out there?” You asked, feeling nauseated at the thought of seeing the bodies up close. 

“Yep.” Daryl replied casually, already outside the truck. He was holding his crossbow as well as a shotgun and was looking at you expectantly. “C’mon. Get the lead out, woman.” 

Puffing out your cheeks in a forced exhale, you opened the truck door. The stench of death and rot was even worse when you stepped out onto the pavement. Flies and maggots were in abundance, feasting on the fallen littering the ground. You gagged behind your hand, ushered forward by a surprisingly gentle hand from the redneck. 

“Can’t stop here.”

When you caught up with the group, the one called Shane was directing everyone like a traffic cop, trying to keep fear and panic to a minimum. “All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let's go. Okay, keep moving. Stay together.”

Rick joined in, urging everyone forward while Jacqui and Shane tried to keep the group quiet. You were at the rear of the main cluster of people with Daryl following closely behind you. You could hear the commotion before you saw Shane pounding on the shutters that were keeping the entrance blocked. 

“Walkers!” Daryl called out, firing a shot that made you flinch. 

“Walkers?” You blurted before realizing exactly what he meant. “Oh fuck!” You had no weapon, absolutely no method of defending yourself. Before you could protest, Daryl had reached back with one arm and pushed you behind himself. You didn’t have time to think too hard on it before he was yelling. 

“Ya led us into a graveyard!” 

Your hands had fisted into the back of his shirt, subsequently allowing him to guide you where he needed you without sacrificing his focus. 

“He made a call!” Shane sounded from somewhere behind you. 

Daryl growled harshly, the sound vibrating your hands against his back. “It was the wrong damn call!” He shouted. The commotion continued, blame and orders being thrown about in shouts and pleas you ignored in favor of burying your face between Daryl’s shoulder blades. You had survived; lost your entire family and stayed alive only to die with a handful of strangers and a man you almost wished you had made more of an effort to get to know. Amidst the crying children, the screaming women, you could clearly hear and focus on Rick’s desperate declaration:

“You’re killing us! You’re killing us! You’re killing us!”

“Daryl.” You sobbed before you could stop yourself. 

Then, something unexpected but no less of a miracle. 

The shutters began to open, dousing you all in a most blessed light. 

[ladykailitha]

I am always on the hunt for my next story as I like to have four or five stories going on at the same (being able to have multiple stories going so that I always have something to post really helps with the anxiety like you wouldn't believe.)

And I think I have found my next one. With everyone doing Olympic stories I thought that I too, would throw my hat in the ring.

Back when I first started writing for Stranger Things (like September of '22 way back) I had this story I was posting on AO3 anonymously. The fear of writing for a fandom I hadn't seen the source material of left me terrified (I still worry about from time to time) had my anxiety going a billion miles an hour.

It was about Steve deciding to coach Eddie on getting on the swim team his final senior year so that teachers would be more lenient on his grades. And in return Eddie would help with Steve's trauma of having Barb die in his pool.

I ended up abandoning the work because the characters all wrong and I just started to hate it. It only had something like 34 kudos and 121 views after six chapters. It was not good.

So I am cannibalizing the plot for my next story.

Bit of an age gap. Eddie 18 and Steve is 24 when they meet but they don't get together until after the Olympics making them 20 and 26 respectively.

Steve was going to be Michael Phelps in world where he doesn't exist (shhhh) He had come in fifth his first Olympics as a fourteen year old. His next Olympics had him winning several medals, so many that the phrases "world record" and "foremost swimmer of his time" were tossed around.

But all that changed when he had an accident in his first match in his third Olympics where the bounding board slipped out from under him as he went to dive into the water, hitting his head and nearly drowning.

Leaving him with migraines and a fear of large bodies of water. So now he teaches swimming to little kids in kiddie pools and for the older ones, he uses an endless pool. But he steers clear of the main pool and if he has to use it, he has his assistant coach Robin get in the water for him. It isn't ideal but it works.

Enter Eddie Munson. Eddie who used to swim in middle school but after his mom died and his dad went to jail, he got sent to live with his uncle, Wayne. But because Wayne was working long hours at the plant Eddie was forced to give it up in high school.

Hopper caught him dealing weed and pulled to have Eddie do community service at the rec center, mopping floors, gather towels for the laundry, refilling soap dispensers.

Eddie didn't mind because it meant that he had free access to the pool any time he wanted.

One day, Steve comes in early because he's getting a new group of nuggets for his swim class when he sees Eddie doing a near flawless butterfly stroke.

They talk and Steve finds out that Eddie just didn't have the same opportunities Steve did otherwise he probably would have been in Steve's last Olympics. The next Olympics are two years away and Steve wants to train Eddie for them.

Eddie turns him down at first until on the last day of his community service and he realizes he'll lose access to the pool. So he decides to let Steve coach him because he figures he'll at least get two free years of pool time and then after he doesn't make it, Steve and him can go their separate ways.

Only not only does Eddie get into the Olympics he starts get gold in his events.

Someone plants weed on his to discredit him when they find out he used to deal with hopes of getting him disqualified but it backfires and the culprit is exposed as the one that sabotaged Steve four years ago.

Then after Eddie wins his fifth gold in his last event, Steve and Eddie kiss about it.

[thoughtspresso]

Aqua plans to die.

And his death will be necessary to take Kamiki down.

While the full details of Aqua’s revenge plan isn’t entirely clear to all of us yet, his intention to place himself in danger as he tries to take Kamiki down is a very clear, and very crucial part of the plot that he anticipates.

Before we can dive into how Aqua is going to achieve his revenge, we need to back up a little bit and understand who he is as a person, how he makes decisions, and what he personally wants.

What is Aqua’s Goal?

From a top-level view, Aqua has a singular emotional goal:

Aqua wishes to take responsibility for the deaths of his mothers.

Aqua/Gorou absolutely believes that after two lives of the same thing, that he was the common denominator. He was the fault his mothers both died, because he was useless and helpless. Had he never been conceived, and more crucially, if his mothers did not have to lie about his existence, they would have both stayed alive. If Gorou’s mom didn’t have to conceal the pregnancy from her parents, or did not have one at all, she would have lived a long life. He believes that perhaps his second chance at life was to save Ai, but he was paralyzed and helpless during her murder. He blames himself for Ai’s death too.

This is a driving force in Aqua’s character, and informs all of his decision making, even to the detriment of his own plans most times. It leads us to his supplementary goal:

Aqua wants to keep the people he loves safe.

Whether it was shielding Ruby from entertainment or making sure she’s in a safe agency with good group members, or Akane not going too far in enacting his revenge plot for him, or Kana from steering clear of a career-ending love scandal, Aqua’s key traumas has led him to feel compelled to take action and do whatever it takes to save people if he had the power to do so.

Here is a breakdown of Aqua’s plans, and some key questions we have to ask about each one.

1. Why make a movie called The 15-Year Lie? And what is “Ai’s true wish”?

I have reason to believe that Ai’s DVD for Aqua would have either been a message about wishing to be loved truly and be hated with full honesty for the person she really was, that she wanted her actual self to be revealed to people. In line with that, I think Aqua’s DVD included Gotanda’s original documentary for the B-Komachi dome event. Which is why Gotanda tried to defend Aqua's decision to reveal her secret in chapter 112, and why in chapter 108 Gotanda says about the script that “this is finally my time to fulfill that promise.”

2. What does he mean by “using Arima Kana”?

There were theories circulating that the person who texted Frill Shiranui could have been Aqua, trying to get her to encourage Ruby to play the role of Ai in the film. However, that couldn’t be any farther from the truth. As we know, Aqua was saying that Gotanda should “grow up” and understand that the most important thing for a movie is to succeed commercially first before we talk about artistic value. 

If Aqua had full control over the situation, he would have just straight up casted Akane. After all, that was what he initially proposed, and even contacted her for it despite saying he’ll never have anything to do with her again. What he needed, more than anything, was for the film to succeed commercially. And with the headlining actress no longer (a) the most famous celebrity of their generation, or (b) the heralded genius of their generation, Aqua has no other options.

Except: Arima Kana.

I think the aspect of him using her or manipulating her is mainly to encourage her publicity activities. He’ll be encouraging her to do well in her work to garner more star power for the movie to really be a success, and for her to help his sister be the perfect lead for the show. He’s also going to bank on the idea that Kana will do things for him because she has a crush on him, which he only realized in Chapter 102 after Mem-cho points it out, that he can pursuade Kana to get out of the way of his revenge plot if necessary to keep her safe or place her in the spotlight to attract people’s attention for the movie.

While unlikely, he might even encourage her to stay on a little longer until Ruby gets to the Dome performance.

Or, and maybe this is my shipping delulu talking, but it can also be that he’ll try to just be around her frequently to garner media attention about their relationship. In this way, keeping her close without actually dating her could serve a dual purpose: get people talking about them and the movie, but also make sure that Kana stays safe and nobody makes a rumor of pairing her up with anybody else.

Lastly, also not super likely but another option could be to convince her to headline the show, and play Ai in Ruby’s stead.

3. Why does Kaburagi say that the film is bordering on illegal?

This is a truly crucial piece to unveiling Aqua’s plot. We know Kaburagi likes producing shows that include good-looking young people, and that seems to be his main strategy for raking in young audiences and cashing out.

So why would he have hesitated, even for a second, on a plan to cast the top talent of this young generation, on the biggest news Japan has been talking about, handed to him by a first-hand source--the son of Ai himself?

On all accounts, this would have been the perfect formula for a smash success. So why would Kaburagi say things like, “do you have enough evidence”, when everybody already knew about the University student stalker that murdered her? What was so controversial?

Unless, when they said Aqua will play the culprit, they didn’t mean the Ryosuke.

They meant he was playing Hikaru Kamiki.

Here’s what we know about the film, and what I think Aqua is trying to do:

1. Portray Kamiki in the worst possible way and destroy his reputation.

The 15-Year Lie will be a biopic about Ai’s life from when she was starting out as an idol.  Ai will be portrayed as a poor girl abandoned by her parents, searching for the true meaning of love. We know that this framing will be part of Ai’s characterization because of the scenes where Ruby struggled the most:

In the search for love, they will show her falling for a young man and talented actor at Theatre Lalalai--that being Hikaru Kamiki. Once he gets Ai pregnant, he abandons her, and she runs off to the countryside to hide from the press. When Ai asked him to come visit her, Kamiki, in wanting to protect his career, attempted to send out a stalker. A few years later, seeing his kids wotagei on social media, he manages to find them again and kill Ai.

It is a complete and utter character assasination of Hikaru Kamiki, and while revealing Ai as a flawed person, draws for the sympathy of the viewers to love Ai for who she truly is. Which is exactly why Gotanda keeps insisting for Ruby to play the role, even when Aqua and Kaburagi have sensible recommendations for Akane and Frill.

At that moment, when Ai dies, Aqua will reveal his face, and openly declare that it was his father who orchestrated it all. Then he might even portray his father murdering Ryosuke himself, instead of the suicide that was reported in the media.

2. Aqua will use himself to bait his father out, and force Kamiki’s hand to kill Aqua.

The main reason why Aqua finds it necessary for the film to be a commercial success is because he needs the general public to be one hundred percent in agreement that Hikaru Kamiki is an evil man that deserves to be jailed. (Whether or not he reveals his name in the film, which he could but doesn’t need to.) This public lynching is his first control.

But here’s the thing: Kamiki didn’t directly murder Himekawa Airi and Hoshino Ai himself. At this point in time, Aqua is not aware of Katayose Yura’s murder either. And there is no evidence that connects Uehara Seijirou and Ryosuke’s suicides as murders by Kamiki’s hands.

And on top of all that, when these things happened, Kamiki was fully a minor.

Akane’s fears and interpretation was that Aqua would murder his own father because it’s the only form of revenge he could enact himself. 

But she’s wrong, there’s one more thing Aqua could do: make Kamiki commit murder again. If he kills Aqua, there will now be a murder that the public agrees without a doubt was done by Kamiki himself.

He can go to jail once and for all, or he can also get stabbed by an angry fan--Aqua doesn’t care. All he cares about is that it’s a sure win, and it’s over forever. He launches his sister’s career into the spotlight, he keeps everybody safe, and he atones for the death of his mothers with his own life.

In summary: Aqua plans to get killed by his father, so that an actual murder has occurred for which he could be jailed or publicly ostracized or even killed.

And here’s why I think Aqua will fail:

Aqua’s assumptions about his father are incorrect.

He believes that Kamiki’s reason for killing Ai was because her pregnancy would ruin his reputation and career as a rising actor. That’s why Aqua tries to hit him there. And he believes defaming him might provoke him to get killed.

But I don’t think Kamiki cared about his reputation at all anymore. He left his career as an actor behind after Kindaichi kicked him out of Lalalai, and went on to graduate from Faculty of Science. He never went back in front of the spotlight, instead opening a talent agency around the exact time he believed his kids might be joining the industry.

I have reason to believe that Kamiki thinks murdering Airi and Ai was to protect his children or some other great act of justice against his rapist(s). And that even killing Katayose Yura was done because he didn’t want a liar like her to take the spotlight that was supposedly for his daughter Ruby.

I don’t think Kamiki will harm Aqua.

But I do think he will come forward and expose himself and his twisted justification, and he might even openly give interviews to the media.

Instead, I do believe Kamiki might pay attention to Kana’s honest acting--something he’s never seen before in a person, and try to get close to her somehow. And if Kamiki’s name is not revealed, and if the theories are true that Frill works for Kamiki’s agency, he might recruit Kana to join him.

All this is to say, get Kana out of this manga. Somebody, please save her.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest (Part 7) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 5.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: In the few days before the mission, Nickie has important conversations with his mom, his grandfather, and maybe even his estranged father.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

It was the day after Ice’s funeral and somehow the Mitchells had to go back to normal. Maverick reported for duty early, Cora went back to work as usual, and Nickie stayed late at school to make up some of the work that he missed. But it wasn’t back to normal. Not really.

Walking out of school, Nickie looked up to see his mom’s car roll around the corner of the school. A bit nervously, Nickie made his way over. They hadn’t talked last night about much of anything. Everyone sort of went in their separate directions and stewed in their own thoughts. And Nickie knew that his mom and his grandfather saw the wings that he pinned to his jacket.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cora greeted him with a small smile. “How was school?”

“Long,” Nickie replied quietly, sinking into his seat. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Cora stated as she put the car in drive.

They stared heading home, though Cora got tenser and tenser with every mile. Gripping the steering wheel tighter than normal, Cora stared at the stop light in front of them, before quickly putting her turn signal on and making a right. Nickie looked over at his mom with clear confusion, since this wasn’t the direction home. But Cora continued driving.

“Where are we going?” Nickie asked his mom, who shot him a small smile in return.

“You’ll see.”

Nickie leaned back in his seat, still confused, but trusting his mom. Cora eventually pulled down a winding road that ended in a parking lot. They could see the naval ships in the harbor and the planes overhead reminded Nickie that base wasn’t very far.

Wordlessly, Cora turned off the car and stepped out, causing Nickie to do the same. Cora walked down the path, made her way down to a bench, and sat down on the worn wood. She patted the spot next to her and Nickie sat down without much of a fuss, though he felt a rock settle in his stomach when he caught his mom’s expression.

“Mom, I can explain . . .” Nickie started off softly.

“Do you remember all the times that I would bring you out here when you were little to watch the ships?” Cora asked, staring over at the ships docked in port. “You would just sit out here for hours, endlessly entertained.”

“Mom?” Nickie asked, looking over at her with some concern.

“Or all of the times that your grandfather brought you to the museum in town? He had to run after you once because you wanted to touch the plane and you just slipped under the ropes,” Cora mused, smiling at the memories. “You know, I think if your grandfather’s face wasn’t in some of those photos in the museum, the security guard would have been a lot meaner to him.”

“Mom?” Nickie repeated, softer this time.

Sobering, Cora took a breath before turning to her son. Nickie could see a thin layer of tears in her eyes, but didn’t comment on it. Mostly because he could feel some building behind his own eyes. Cora smiled painfully and cupped her son’s cheek, rubbing her thumb along his skin.

“What I’m trying to say, Nickie, is that part of me always knew that you could someday end up in the Navy,” Cora began, dropping her hand down to grab Nickie’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I mean, all of your father figures were aviators. You grew up in a Navy town. Your grandfather always brought you to the airshows and told you all about his stories.”

She dropped her head for a moment, trying to compose herself. Biting the inside of her cheek, Cora turned back to Nickie with a small smile.

“I know that you probably think that I’m going to tell you that you can’t go. But I’m not.”

“Really?” Nickie asked, sounding shocked. “But, Mom, you wouldn’t even let me on a trampoline growing up.”

“And I stick by that,” Cora stated firmly. “Do you know how many kids come in with broken bones—never mind. That’s not why I brought you here.” Composing herself, Cora let out a breath and turned back to her son. “Answer a few questions for me, Nickie. Do you want to go into the Navy?”

“Yes,” Nickie replied quietly, without much confidence in his mom’s presence.

“More than you want any other career path?”

“Yes,” Nickie returned with more confidence than before.

“And will going into the Navy make you happy?”

“I think so.”

“And do you have a backup plan in case you can’t become a naval aviator for whatever reason?”

“Well, I know that I want to do something mechanical. I mean, Gramps had me working on cars and bikes for my entire life . . . it’s what I know. It’s what I feel comfortable with and what I want to do,” Nickie explained, causing Cora to nod slowly. Nickie scooched a little closer to his mom, still surprised at her words. “You’re really okay with me going into the Navy?”

“In all honesty, I’m not thrilled, Nickie,” Cora stated, causing Nickie’s expression to fall a bit. “If I had it my way, you would go into business or something where the most dangerous part of your day was getting to and from work.”

Cora’s gaze softened again when Nickie turned away from her, a bit shy. Grabbing Nickie’s chin gently and tilting it up so that Nickie locked eyes with her again, Cora smiled.

“But it’s not my life, Nickie. It’s yours. And I can’t—I don’t want to be that parent who stands in the way of their child’s dreams because they’re too scared of what could happen or they’re too afraid to let go. I don’t want to be that kind of mom.”

Turning to face her son fully, Cora grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze.

“All I have ever wanted for you, Nickie, was for you to be happy. For you to not have to worry about the things that I had to worry about when I was your age. I wanted you to be able to live your life without my past or your grandfather’s past or . . . anyone else’s past holding you back.”

“Like how it happened for Bradley?” Nickie asked, causing Cora to pause for a moment.

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “Like that.”

Cora slowly turned to look at the back of the bench. Nickie followed his mom’s gaze and paused when he noticed the plaque in the middle of the wood. It was small and not very noticeable, but there was a plaque that read a simple message:

In memory of LTJG Nicholas “Goose” Bradshaw

“That’s the thing about becoming a parent. You look back at your childhood and you try to make choices to give your kids an easier life than the one you had. But sometimes you overcorrect. And sometimes you didn’t see the problem in the first place until it smacks you in the face all over again.”

“Mom, planes have come a long way since 1986,” Nickie pointed out, causing Cora to turn back to him. “Safety wise.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I wasn’t talking about that.” Looking down at her lap for a moment, Cora took a breath. “Your father. Bradley. He always felt like he had to prove himself to the memory of his dad. And he made a lot of decisions trying to impress someone who was gone and who would have loved him regardless of any of those choices.”

Cora stared into her son’s eyes as she squeezed his hands.

“And I want to make sure that if you go into the Navy, you’re doing it for yourself. Not for Maverick. Not for Ice. Not for me . . . and definitely not to prove anything to Rooster.” Cora held her son’s gaze for a moment before adding, “I want you to do it for yourself, Nickie. Do you understand me?”

“I do, Mom.”

“Good.”

With a watery gaze, Cora pulled her son in for a hug that he quickly returned. Latching onto his mom like he was a little kid again, Nickie let a few tears dribble down from his eyes and onto her scrubs. Cora rocked her son back and forth, holding a hand to the back of his head like she did when he was a baby and she was trying to soothe him in the middle of the night.

“I thought that you’d be mad,” Nickie whispered out shakily, causing Cora to shake her head. “Or disappointed in me.”

“Nickie, I could never be disappointed in you,” Cora stated, squeezing him tighter. “You’re my baby. And you’re smart, you’re kind. You’re the kid who always got praise from all of his teachers for standing up for other kids and inviting everyone to play.” Letting out a choked sound herself, Cora tugged him closer. “I’m so proud of you, Nickie. And I’ll always be proud of you. And if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me about this, I’m sorry, Nickie. I’m so sorry.”

“I know that you just wanted me to be safe, Mom,” Nickie croaked out emotionally.

“You’re a Mitchell. We’re not the safest bunch,” Cora blurted out, causing Nickie to laugh with her. Pulling back from the hug, Cora wiped Nickie’s tears away with her hand. “I love you, Nickie. Okay? And nothing will ever change that.”

“I know, Mom. I love you too.”

~~~~~

“I told you that you were worrying over nothing,” Amelia told Nickie as they sat out in the backyard of the Benjamin house.

“I know,” Nickie replied, shooting Amelia a small smile. “I should probably listen to you more often.”

“At least you realize it.” They sat side by side, watching the waves crash before Amelia slowly turned back to Nickie with a more serious expression. “Do you know when they ship out?”

“Any day now, I would assume,” Nickie stated, shrugging his shoulders. “We’ll probably only know the night before.”

“Have you talked to Mav yet about the Navy?”

“No, but I will. Before he leaves,” Nickie answered, nodding to himself.

“Are you going to try to talk to . . .” Amelia trailed off, causing Nickie to look at the ground.

“I don’t know,” Nickie replied honestly. “I feel like I should, but . . . he’s still the bastard who abandoned us. Should I really give him a chance?”

“I don’t know,” Amelia stated, shrugging her shoulders. Turning to look out over the waves, Amelia gripped the edge of the bench. “I know that I stopped giving my dad chances a long time ago.” She slowly looked over at Nickie, who was still staring at the ground. “But knowing you, you’re going to beat yourself up if something happens on this mission and you never talked to him.”

“And what if nothing happens and I gave him a chance that he didn’t deserve?”

“Then you can tell him to fuck off when he gets back,” Amelia replied bluntly. Turning back to Nickie, Amelia shoved him lightly on the shoulder. “Isn’t the whole Mitchell mantra about not thinking? Why are you overthinking this? Do you want to talk to him or not?”

“I want answers,” Nickie stated quietly, causing Amelia to nod.

“And where are you going to get them?”

“Him,” Nickie added lamely. Letting out a groan, Nickie rubbed his face tiredly. “Goddammit.”

~~~~~

After the orders were given that they would be shipping out the following morning, the Daggers seemed to scatter to the wind. Those with families spent their last night on FaceTime or in town with them. Some just wanted their solitude and peace to center themselves.

And Rooster didn’t have a plan. He was just going to wander, quite honestly. Until life moved in a direction for him.

“Rooster,” Hondo called, causing Rooster to slow and turn to face the warrant officer.

Holding out a piece of paper, Hondo stared Rooster down and motioned for him to take the paper. Rooster tentatively reached out and took it to find a location and time written down.

“It’s top-secret correspondence,” Hondo stated, causing Rooster to turn back to him.

“From who?”

“An unnamed source,” Hondo replied stiffly. “Just . . . don’t fuck it up.”

And without another word, Hondo turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Rooster standing there with just a piece of paper in his hand. Staring down at it again, Rooster slowly folded it up and tucked it into the pocket of his flight suit before heading for the locker room. He had a guess as to who would try to get a message to him through Hondo.

And he desperately wanted to speak with her.

~~~~~

Pulling into the lot just down the beach from the Hard Deck, Rooster turned off his car and stepped out into the warm Miramar air. Dressed in his civilian clothes, Rooster looked around for Cora, but the figure who got out of their car and turned to him was too tall to be Cora.

It was Nickie, Rooster realized, after the teenager stepped forward.

The father and son stood several feet apart, neither seemingly wanting to make the first move. Bradley was still in shock that Nickie wanted to even look at him and Nickie was still summoning all of his courage to ask the questions that had been hammering around in his head for his entire life.

“You came,” was what Nickie started off with.

“I did,” Rooster replied quietly, shutting the door to his car. Looking up and down the landscape, Rooster turned back to Nickie. “Does your mom know that you’re here?”

“No,” Nickie stated honestly. He tilted his chin up a bit, almost challenging Rooster. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“No,” Rooster replied, shaking his head.

Nickie stared up at Rooster for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists as he shifted his weight around on his feet. Letting out a breath, Nickie turned back to his father with a hardened expression that made Rooster more than a little nervous.

“Why did you never come back? Why did you never read any of her letters?” Nickie demanded with his voice thick with emotion. “Why the hell did you turn your back on my mom and never look back? What the hell did she do to you?”

“Nothing,” Rooster stated after a few moments of silence.

“Then why did you do it?” Nickie hissed, glaring over at Rooster.

“Because I was . . . am an idiot,” Rooster replied quietly, knowing that excuses weren’t going to do him any good here. Looking down at the ground for a moment, Rooster tried to find the right words. “And I . . . I was worried that she would slam the door in my face if I showed up again.”

“So, you just did it to her then?” Nickie scoffed, his jaw ticking with thinly veiled annoyance. Shaking his head as the anger simmered in his stomach, Nickie took a step closer to Rooster. “Do you have any idea of what you put her through? Do you think it was easy for her to raise me as a single mom? Do you think that she wanted that?”

“No,” Rooster returned, shaking his head calmly. Clearing his throat, Rooster rubbed the back of his neck. “My mom . . . your grandmother . . . she was a single mom for most of my life. I know it’s not easy. I know it’s not the life that most people choose to have.”

“That makes it worse,” Nickie scoffed, shooting Rooster a sharper glare.

“Do you know about her? About . . . your grandmother?” Rooster asked quietly after a few moments, causing Nickie to pause with the change in conversation.  

“Of course, I do. The only person that my mom ever hid from me was you,” Nickie all but snapped, causing Rooster to wince. Letting out a breath from his nose, Nickie looked at the ground as some of the anger left his body. Kicking a rock, Nickie kept his gaze down and his voice level. “I grew up on her recipes. On . . . my grandmother’s recipes.”

“Even the birthday surprise cake?” Bradley questioned emotionally.

“Every year,” Nickie returned, some more anger leaving his system. “Until I was like thirteen.”

“She used to make those cakes for your mom and for me. For our birthdays,” Bradley replied, sounding like he was talking more to himself than Nickie for a moment. Bradley stared down at the ground, taking a breath to calm himself down. “You know, I was about your age when . . . when she died.”

“My mom told me,” Nickie responded softly, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Ice had only been gone for a few days and sometimes Nickie had to remind himself that he was never going to get a text from Ice asking for him to come over. Not anymore. Turning back to his dad, Nickie set his jaw and let out a quiet sniffle.

“Fuck cancer,” Nickie stated, causing Rooster to pick his head up.

“Fuck cancer,” Rooster returned, nodding firmly. He looked out over at the waves over Nickie’s shoulder for a moment, leaning back against the Bronco for support. “You know, if she was still here, she would have been the grandmother to never leave you alone. The kind to make sure that you left her house five pounds heavier than you came. She’d go to all your sports games and events. Hell, she probably would have driven your mom just a little crazy, sticking around so much.”

And for a moment, though he couldn’t believe it, Nickie was sympathizing with Rooster. He actually felt bad for the guy. Because for the three seconds that he put himself into Bradley’s shoes—losing his mom at sixteen—Nickie barely survived it without bursting into uncontrolled sobs.

He loved his mom. He’d do anything for his mom. He was a mama’s boy. And he couldn’t picture his life without his mom.

Coming out of the emotional fog, Rooster turned and opened the door to the Bronco, causing Nickie to pick his head up. Rifling around in the glove compartment, Rooster pulled out a simple gold chain. It was a necklace that his mom used to wear all the time that he kept close to him to remember her. And the simple ‘B’ that hung from the chain was still there all these years later.

“This was hers,” Rooster explained, holding it out to Nickie.

A bit cautious, Nickie walked over and slowly took the necklace from Rooster’s outstretched hand. Studying the chain, Nickie glanced down at the ‘B’ pendant before looking back up at Rooster, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for him to speak.

“Is the ‘B’ for Bradley?”

“It’s for Bradshaw,” Rooster replied softly, smiling a bit painfully. “My dad . . . your grandfather . . . he gave it to her when they first started dating.” Rooster shoved his hands into his pockets, just watching Nickie study the necklace for a moment. “Less than two years later, I was born.”

“My mom showed me the pictures of their wedding,” Nickie returned, rubbing the metal with his thumb. “I guess that young, unplanned pregnancies just run in my family.”

“Both sides,” Rooster agreed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Try to break that streak. Please.”

“Gramps already gave me the shovel talk about it about fifteen times over,” Nickie replied with a dash of amusement in his tone. “And my mom too.”

Running his thumb over the thin gold chain again, Nickie picked up his head and held out the necklace for Bradley to take back. But Bradley shook his head and held up a hand to stop him.

“Keep it.”

Nickie looked a bit taken aback for a moment before he glanced down at the chain in his hand. Slowly wrapping it around his wrist to keep it safe, Nickie turned back to Bradley.

“You know, we’re never going to have a relationship unless you make it up to my mom,” Nickie stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“I know. I understand that,” Rooster replied, nodding along to show that he understood. “I would have been the same way.” Rooster looked away for a moment before turning back to Nickie. “You know, I suggested it to your mom but . . . my mom left me some money. And I know that you’re going to college soon and everything—”

“—I don’t need it,” Nickie interjected, knowing where Bradley was going with it.

“College is expensive and I’m sure that you’re smart but—”

“—I don’t need it,” Nickie repeated, a bit more firmly.

“Are you not going to college?” Rooster asked, trying not to frown but failing anyways.

“No, I’m going to college,” Nickie sassed back, straightening up under Rooster’s frown. “I just don’t want to go to a . . . traditional college."

"Traditional . . ." Rooster trailed off, confused for a moment, before it finally clicked in his mind. Staring at Nickie incredulously, Rooster tried to put his words together despite his shock. “You . . . you want to be a . . . a naval aviator?”

“If they’ll take me,” Nickie replied, nodding firmly.

“Does your mom know?” Bradley asked, causing Nickie to grow a bit defensive.

“Yes.”

“Does Mav know?”

“. . . Yes,” Nickie lied straight through his teeth, causing Rooster to sigh and rub his face.

Well, Nickie got Cora’s inability to lie, that was for sure. He even shrugged his shoulders the same way that Cora did when she tried to lie.

Shifting his weight on his feet, Nickie turned back to Rooster with a slightly skittish appearance. That fear that he had carried around for months, ever since he decided that he really did want to go on and be a naval aviator, crept up again. And even though he talked it out with his mom, he hadn’t yet managed to find the courage to talk to his grandfather about it.

“Did he . . . did he really pull your papers?”

“Yeah, he did,” Bradley sighed, turning back to his son.

Nickie nodded and looked away, his shifting stature giving away how nervous he was feeling. Rooster took in Nickie’s anxiety and swallowed his pride and about sixteen years’ worth of resentment against Maverick before he cleared his throat. Nickie turned back to him, clearly apprehensive, but curious to hear what he had to say nonetheless.

“Mav told me that he regretted it. Of course, that doesn’t change what’s happened . . .” Rooster trailed off, letting a breath out from his nose. Nickie looked up at Rooster, waiting for him to finish his thought. “But it changes what’ll happen down the line.”

Nickie nodded slowly, looking down at the ground again. Staring at his grandmother’s necklace, Nickie turned back to Rooster. He straightened up, trying to look bigger, but he was really just a bean pole at his age, like Bradley was.

“When you get back . . . we can talk. After you apologize to my mom. And my grandfather too.”

Rooster nodded to show that he agreed with Nickie’s terms before Nickie slowly backed up and slipped into his car. Rooster watched Nickie drive off into the night before slowly slipping into his own car. Staring at the steering wheel for a moment, Rooster slowly lowered his head into his hands and let a few tears loose.

~~~~~

Nickie walked around back, having rolled into the driveway sneakily to avoid his mom or grandfather seeing him. Climbing up the side of the house, Nickie reached his window that he left cracked open. Pushing it up more, Nickie started to shimmy into his bedroom when he spotted his grandfather sitting on his bed with an unimpressed expression on his face.

“Hey, Gramps,” Nickie laughed off, trying to appear casual, though him stumbling in through his window definitely didn’t help that. “Just dropped something and thought that it was easier to go out the window than . . .” Nickie trailed off for a moment when he caught his grandfather’s expression. “Is there any excuse that I could use that you would believe?”

“Where did you go?” Maverick asked, getting to the point.

“Uh . . .”

“What’s on your wrist?” Maverick asked, pointing at Nickie’s left wrist.

“Nothing, just a—”

“—Is that Carole’s?” Maverick interjected, easily recognizing the piece of jewelry. Slowly turning to look up at Nickie, Maverick slowly stood up from his bed. “You went to see Bradley?”

“Yeah . . . I did,” Nickie agreed, nodding slowly, staring down at the necklace. “He gave it to me.”

“And . . . how did the rest of your talk go?” Maverick questioned, concerned.

“Well, I didn’t tell him to ‘fuck off’,” Nickie reported, causing Maverick to sigh. “We talked. Mostly about Carole, actually.”

“Bradley was a mama’s boy,” Maverick recounted, nodding sadly. “Not unlike you.”

Nickie nodded as well, staring down at the chain on his wrist for a moment. Slowly unclipping it, he unwrapped the necklace carefully. Nickie reached for the gum tin that he got from Ice and slowly opened it, setting the necklace inside with Goose’s dog tags and Ice’s wings. But the action only reminded him of the conversation he was trying to avoid with his grandfather.

“Your mom told me,” Maverick stated, causing Nickie to turn to him quickly. “Well, she didn’t fully tell me. I just asked her why she looked like she had been crying for a while and put the pieces together from there.”

“She doesn’t want me to go into the Navy,” Nickie replied softly.

“No, she doesn’t. But she doesn’t want to stand in the way of your dreams more,” Maverick returned without a second thought.

Nickie nodded and set the gum tin on his nightstand again. Maverick studied Nickie’s expression for a moment before looking over at the pictures that Nickie had hung up. The one of Goose and Carole caught his eye before he turned back to his grandson, the boy that he practically raised as his own son, as he had done with Nickie’s own father before him.

“And neither do I, Nickie.”

Nickie whipped around to face his grandfather, still a bit apprehensive, though there was that hope budding behind his brown eyes. Maverick managed a smile and nodded to show that he wasn’t lying, which caused Nickie to turn around completely.

“You’re not just saying that because you want me to feel better, right?”

“No, I’m not,” Maverick stated, a bit more firmly. “Though, I do want to be honest with you, Nickie.”

Maverick motioned for Nickie to sit down on the edge of his bed and the two Mitchells sat together for perhaps the final time. Maverick turned to Nickie with a serious expression.

“The whole process . . . it’s not sunshine and daises. And I’m sure that you have your eye on the Academy, and I don’t fault you for that. But I want you to prepare for the reality that politics plays a bigger role in the process than anyone wants to talk about. They kept me out of the Academy because of my dad. And, honestly, I’m worried that they’ll keep you out because of me.”

“I know,” Nickie replied quietly. “Ice warned me.”

“Of course, he did,” Maverick sighed, rubbing his chin.

“I looked into other options. If I can’t get into the Academy, I’ll just try NROTC or OCS. I could even stay in San Diego if I really wanted to do that,” Nickie stated, causing Maverick to nod. “And I mean, even if I can’t become an aviator, I’ll just do my time, get my college degree paid for, and figure it out from there. Maybe I’d become a civilian pilot like you tried to push me to do.”

“Well, you’re a Mitchell. Being in the sky . . . that’s your birth right one way or another,” Maverick stated, smiling a bit painfully. “But I am really glad that you thought through this a bit more. I didn’t want you to get stuck like . . . like Bradley.”

“Why did you pull his papers anyways?” Nickie asked softly, causing Maverick to pause. “I mean, you encouraged me to fly my whole life. Maybe not for the Navy, but you had me up in planes with you since as far back as I could remember. Why would you try and stop Bradley from doing that?”

“My decisions with Bradley . . . your dad . . . I made those decisions because I thought that I was doing the right thing. I thought that I was protecting the son of my best friends. But all I did was end up pushing him away and making him think that I didn’t believe in him at all.”

Maverick looked down at the ground for a moment, before turning back to Nickie.

“And, you know, part of me mixed up Bradley and Goose in my head. And I let what happened to Goose hold Bradley back. I didn’t want him to end up like Goose because I wouldn’t have survived that. But that wasn’t fair to Bradley.” Maverick rubbed his cheek slowly. “You know, they look so damn similar that I just acted on instinct alone.”

“Goose had strong genes,” Nickie remarked, causing Maverick to laugh.

“Yes, he does. He’d be very proud of himself for it too.” Letting out another chuckle and rubbing his chin, Maverick turned back to Nickie. “You know, if he was still here, he would have been bragging to me and anyone who would listen about which side of your family you looked more like. His side, of course. God, he would have held it over my head forever.”

Nickie nodded along and looked at the photo that he hung up on the wall. One of Goose and Carole from before they were even married. They couldn’t have been much older than he was now Nickie realized with a small smidge of dread.

“I wish I got to meet them,” Nickie spoke softly, causing Maverick to slowly tear up.

“Yeah, I wish that you did too, Nickie. Every single day,” Maverick breathed out, forcing a watery smile.

“When do you ship out?” Nickie asked, trying to change the subject to avoid his own tears.

“Tomorrow morning,” Maverick stated, causing Nickie to whip around to face him.

“Tomorrow?” Nickie breathed out, his stomach immediately knotting.

“Affirmative,” Maverick stated, trying to force a smile again. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

“I know,” Nickie stated softly, not looking entirely convinced.

Slowly, Maverick pulled Nickie in for a tight hug. Nickie returned the hug and tucked his chin against his grandfather’s shoulder. Maverick patted his curled fist against Nickie’s back, forcing himself to not give away the fact that he felt in his gut that this would be the last night that he saw his grandson. Taking a breath, Maverick released Nickie.

“Come on. Let’s join your mom downstairs.”

A.N. Final “main” part will be out either Wednesday or Thursday. And then the epilogue maybe sometime next week.

If you like AUs, don’t forget to vote on the poll that I made last week!

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Epilogue

[namfinessed]

eliminate! - p.jm.

genre: major angst, suggestive content, dystopian!au (warnings include violence, death and mentions of blood) (8.8k wc)

summary: in a world where people killed those they loved, to survive, to be alive, you and jimin can't seem to be parted and the impending doom of your relationship stretches the two of you out before you are forced to make the choice, to love or to die?

masterlist

(i highly recommend listening to heartbeat by childish gambino while reading this, enjoy <3)

-

october 20th, 2022.

rain traveled down your back, slowly, mockingly but fell with full force on top of your head and clouded your vision. red lights flashed, green lights flashed, white lights flashed but somehow, he was still there, in the midst of it all, clear as day in the dead of the night.

it couldn’t be him, not after all this while, not after you’d given it all up.

but the hand that held your gun quivered, your blinking became slower as your eyes tried to focus on him, drink him in, forget him, remember him, anything it can do, see him.

it shouldn’t have come to this.

a road shouldn’t be separating you two, a gun in your hand should’ve never been held, the rain should've never dared to hide him from you but it was all happening, and all you could do was look.

you felt his sorrow from across the street, his shaking hands that held his own gun, and you knew you had to do this for the relief of the other, whoever survived.

your phone blinked and buzzed rapidly with the word ‘eliminate!’ on your screen and you knew the decision that you had to make.

so, as cars and bikes zoomed and honked and blared in your ears, your hand lifted to point the gun at him, you knew he would do the same, the principle was survival of the fittest after all.

but as you pulled the trigger and the bullet rang through the air and bolted in his direction, you realized he never lifted his hand.

you fell to your knees as the rain continued its assault on your body. your eyes forgave you by closing themselves so you would never have to see his body on the ground.

your screen became green.

‘successful!’

it shouldn’t have come to this.

-

the government and all other higher organizations had their eyes on the few numbers of marriages that took place and even fewer marriages that lasted, divorce rates were at an all-time high, and that resulted in the chaos of the world as it was.

because it was a chain reaction.

marriages lead to unhappy individuals, sometimes with children, sometimes with large families, this led to divorces, which led to unhappy and traumatized children, years of therapy that didn’t quite fix anything, unhappy and traumatized children didn’t serve to be responsible citizens who fulfilled the duties that the government needed.

and soon, they had to step in.

they introduced a system based on nature’s most ancient method, the method of survival by elimination. the system had everyone’s data down to the chromosomes that built them and used this system to establish romantic compatibility between individuals. this would allow society, as a whole, to have lasting, emotionally fulfilling relationships.

but they had other motives as well.

the government didn’t care about individuals, they cared about what an individual could offer and they also cared about overpopulation, they couldn’t control society if it was overfilling, so the system was built to kill two birds with one stone.

the system did connect people but the second the relationship seemed to be steering in the wrong direction in any manner, the individuals in the relationship would receive a flashing red alert of ‘eliminate’ on their phones; sometimes they got it at the same time, sometimes they got it seconds apart, and in the time that they receive the notification, they have to kill the other person in the relationship or get killed.

whoever kills, gets ‘aid’ from the government, which was basically tons of money to cover for the trauma that comes from killing someone you loved.

if the persons failed to carry out the elimination for whatever reason, they got three warnings before government-assigned hitmen would kill both of the individuals, if the individuals didn't kill to survive, they didn’t deserve survival.

this, according to the government, was survival of the fittest, eliminating those who weren’t emotionally capable of being in a lasting relationship, and who didn’t provide the government with anything, deserved to be eliminated.

this was naturally met with resistance but as days by and the system reached everyone, people found that they enjoyed eliminating those who made them unhappy, especially because there were no consequences and because romance came with a certain rage, people were finally allowed to quell that rage.

so, the system was implemented and the world paced forward.

but you fell in love with jimin, and he fell in love with you, and the moment you did, your phone flashed red.

-

december 19nd, 2022.

it was the first warning and he hadn’t died that day, at least that’s what you heard.

it’s been months since your bullet hit him and you still couldn't forget the ringing it left in your head. the same roads that you had coursed through on his bike, so in love, so sure about each other, were the same roads where you left him to die.

it wasn't your fault, you had prepared to die, jimin was a better marksman than you were, so you had expected a bullet to pierce through you as well but it never came, even if you wished that it did.

so, now, here you were, body barely covered in a nightgown that your partner, keith, apparently liked, hands slowly stirring the coffee in your cup and looking out the window, rain clouded your vision and that was enough to take you back.

“good morning, babe!” a swift kiss on the side of your neck had your body recoiling but you forced a smile on your face as you kissed keith’s cheek.

he was dressed up for work in his black trousers and white shirt, he was moderately attractive, a finance guy who liked spending his money as if it meant nothing, you had no idea how you were compatible, but you were living together now and you didn’t see a way out.

“work’s going to be crazy today, so many meetings and we have to close that deal today,” he drawled on, running his hands through his hair as he got behind the kitchen counter to make himself breakfast.

i hope you don’t come back home, i hope your meeting lasts for a week, i hope i never have to see you again.

“i can make dinner for when you come back” leaves your lips instead and his head snaps up with a smile you’ve grown to hate, “you’re the best, babe, i love that on you by the way.” he gestures to your gown and gives you a flying kiss and it takes everything in you to not physically cringe.

i hate this on me, by the way.

it’s not like you care.

“i’ll buy more of them.” you hum, an answer that would satisfy him, and with a sigh, you turn away from him to look out the window again, the sky was still gloomy, the raindrops still coated your windows and you still wanted your partner to die.

then, you notice at the foot of your apartment building, a bike that pulls up, a bike that you know, a bike that you spent many nights on, your heart races as the rider steps off it.

at the same minute, your phone buzzes in your hand and you freeze.

not now.

not now.

not now.

“we don’t have to make this painful,” you hear from behind you before the steel of your own gun presses against the back of your head, your phone slips to the ground and you catch sight of the red that coats the screen.

‘eliminate!’

seconds apart.

of course, he got it before you had.

from your periphery, you see exactly what keith had been all along, what all you tolerated because you didn’t think you deserved love after putting a bullet in the only man you ever loved, you see keith’s narrowed eyes filled with ambition and malice, his fingers that itched to pull the trigger and his face that donned an evil smile.

he was enjoying this, enjoying the absolute control he had on your very existence.

you just wished he hadn’t underestimated you.

you pulled your ankle back to connect with his crotch, and whipped around to elbow his face and neck, making him weak enough to drop the gun, you pushed the gun away with your leg and dragged him to the kitchen counter, all while he begged and whimpered for mercy, then started shouting in the anger he felt, he had lost control after all.

you grabbed his collar and jammed his head into the sharp corner of the kitchen counter, leaving traces of his blood on it, and got up to retrieve a knife.

you had to do it, you had to kill him, or they will kill you you had to do it you had to kill him or they will kill you you had to do i-

the door to your apartment flew open and the grip you had on your knife tightened as you whipped around to see who it was, even if you knew who it could be.

jimin stood there, helmet in hands, eyes flicking on your body, unmoving, so silent that it made your head spin. as your lips parted to call out to him, to see if he would respond, to see if he was even real, a hand gripped your ankle, keith’s loud groan of ‘bitch’ echoed around you. the knife you had in your hands quickly found its place in his chest; the green light from your phone illuminated a side of your face.

‘successful!’

through the blood dripping down your eyelashes, you looked up, once again to see him, to see if he had moved, to see if he had left, to see if he had come to kill you.

you fell off keith’s body, pushing it away with your feet and the cold ground made you hiss, your head didn’t stop spinning, and your hands didn’t stop shaking, it almost made you laugh that the people in this room right now were both people you killed or tried to kill.

“why are you back?”

we shouldn’t be around each other, you shouldn’t be alive, i shouldn’t be alive-

“i chose to forgive you for putting a bullet in me,” he smirked and your head lolled to the side, a smile growing involuntarily, he was real, he was here, and he was breathing, “i never asked for your forgiveness, jimin.”

i missed you, i missed your voice, i missed your bike, i missed you i missed you i missed you i missed you, i missed us.

“i’m nice like that,” he hummed as he sat beside you, you looked up helplessly, someone’s blood smeared on your face, his blood that stained your hands, you thought you would never see him again.

he was nice like that; he was always nicer than you had ever been.

jimin’s ring-covered fingers pushed the hair that stuck onto the blood on your face back, you could feel your sobs compressed in your chest.

“unless you are here to kill me, get out, jimin.” you didn’t think you could say it but you couldn’t kill him a second time, you couldn't look at him without wanting to lay in his arms and let him kill you.

“i’m gonna say no to that.”

“you must really like dying” you could almost hear the sirens of the government hitmen, they would bust in here, place a bullet in each of your heads, jimin and you would just be eliminated numbers in the system then.

“we’ve only gotten one warning,” his voice and demeanor remained calm and steady, the calm you needed, the steady you craved, everything about jimin, you craved and craved and craved.

but one warning was enough, one bullet was enough, the blood on your hands was enough.

you pushed yourself off the floor, almost gravitating and falling into jimin’s arms, maybe crying for an hour, or two, and then kissing him all over but instead, your hands reached out for the knife that was dripping already.

you stood, with shaky knees, in front of a jimin that didn’t flinch and with the strongest voice you could muster, “get out.”

jimin didn’t make an attempt to move, “i let you kill me once, why do you think this will work?” to anyone else, it would sound like he was provoking you, but jimin was pleading with you, ‘i let you kill me once, i’ll let you kill me twice, thrice, ten times, i would rather die in your hands than be away from you.’

you couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe, he was right, he was always right.

but you were, again, desperate to make sure his blood didn’t end up on you.

so, you twisted the knife and pointed it to yourself.

that did the trick.

jimin jumped up from where he was, you could hear his breathing, loud, hurried, so worried, you saw his hands instinctively jerk towards you and pausing in the air, unsure of what you would do.

“please leave,” you whispered, eyes gathering tears for the first time this morning and jimin retracted his hand, “you’re being crazy, put it down, p-please.” his calm was breaking, his face boosted a sheen and his eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“the second you turn back and leave, this will be put away.” you shook the knife in your hand, glancing towards the door through which jimin would have to leave.

jimin’s eyes widened in anger, his hands shook at the fury that consumed him, he couldn’t believe that you were willing to do this just to keep him away.

“i came back for you!” he yelled, you couldn’t help but flinch at his eyes that were no longer calm, no longer steady, “after everything, after you put a fucking bullet in me, after you live with some guy, i looked for you everywhere and this is what you want to do? drive me away? make yourself look insane?” his voice bellowed in the apartment, suffocating you, driving you to tears, but you knew it was necessary, it was easier if he hated you.

“get out,” you whispered again, your resolve weakening as the knife nudged into your skin, and at the sight of your blood running down your arm, jimin threw his head back with a frustrated groan, he couldn't touch you without potentially triggering another warning, he couldn’t shake you back to sanity so, just as quiet as he entered, jimin left your apartment, but not without a look that said, ‘this isn’t over, not here, not now.’

you were left with too much air and too much blood around you.

at some point in the evening, the cleaners from the government came in, but none of them looked at you, none of them said a word or offered you a napkin, nothing.

they pushed keith’s body into a bag, cleared up the blood, dropped an envelope full of money on the counter, and left.

but the smell of death perforated around you, as you, once again, looked out the window, a gloomy sky, a gloomy world, and your cigarette was the only light that remained later in the night.

you stared at the reflection of your face which looked sunken in, tired, irritated, so close to dead but unfortunately, not dead, and as you kept scowling at yourself, jimin’s face joined the reflection.

then, both of your cigarettes remained to be the only light in your apartment that night.

-

august 22nd, 2023.

that night, he smoked with you, taught you how to patch up your cuts, burnt some scented candles, and left after staring at your lips for ten minutes.

it didn’t matter that you were already well-trained to patch up your wounds, it didn’t matter that the candles he left only cleared the air for a few minutes before the smell of death came back, he was there, you were there, and that was enough for nothing else to matter.

though you still shiver at the memory of his eyes on you.

you haven’t seen him since then, you had told him to stay away before any kind of patch wouldn’t save what you do to yourself, but you still burnt the candles he got for you, every day.

you killed five people after jimin last year, you didn’t know if it was dumb luck that you survived every single time or your worst nightmare come true, all of your lovers were now just numbers in the eliminated category, you were waiting to join them too.

but, when your phone flashed red, you couldn't think of anything but surviving, even if you wanted to die, even if you had nothing to live for, that one notification blinded you from everything you believed in and pushed you to protect yourself.

it was the deepest, darkest secret that you held and buried in yourself.

maybe that was the intention all along, everyone wants to die until they are put face-to-face with death.

“i really didn’t expect us to match but i’m so glad that this is happening,” your date, an older man, with thinning hair and too broad of a smile, beamed at you. you felt particularly irritated that he was talking to your boobs but you held on, you matched for a reason, you had to see this through until you could kill him.

“i am glad too.” you smiled with ruby lips, crossing your legs and leaning away from him, you raised your glass to him and he almost jumped out of his seat to cling it, you held back your laugh at his state.

men were too simple.

“let’s get to know each other! we could start with, what scares you?” he thought he was being deep and thoughtful with that question, but he was so wrong.

men, scare me, i haven't decided if you're one of those men.

“i have to say, rats, can’t stand them, they’re disgusting.” you fake shuddered, causing your date to explode into laughter, “oh, you poor thing, they scare you?” he asked as if it was the most ridiculous thing ever.

i am scared that everyone i love, secretly hates me. i don't have many people that i love, that scares me too.

“so, how many people have you killed?” you didn’t mean to ask it out loud but you needed to know how much training would have to go into defeating him, if that day ever came. he looked up with surprised eyes before the surprise melts into poorly executed sensuality, a certain sick kind of glint shined in his face as he leaned forward as if he’s found his prize, his prey, “i have killed 3, princess, what about you?”

it took everything in you to not vomit in his face.

but your eyes roll back instead, this was going to be a long night.

“how about you try to guess?” you whispered back, just as sensual, maybe not as sick but playing the part he wanted you to.

a hidden freak in elegant clothes.

men didn’t have a lot of types; this was usually the most popular.

he, you keep thinking ‘he’, because, for the love of god, you can’t seem to remember his name, blinks slowly, trying to be sexy, only to look mildly constipated.

a swing of the restaurant doors forces your eyes towards the entrance and your throat closes up as you try not to fall off your seat when you see who it is.

you had told him to stay away, to never come back, you told him that you should’ve never given him the lighter that night but he had laughed it off, he had lit his cigarette and gazed out the window without a word.

now, he was here, all flesh and bones, too real, too much, not in your innocent or sometimes, not-so-innocent dreams, he was standing with another woman who held onto his hands, hands that had taught you to clean your wounds, hands that had touched every inch of you.

your hands gripped the tablecloth with a strength you didn’t know you possessed; your eyes threatened to flash red as your heartbeat accelerated.

gone was the bald man in front of you, gone were the people around you, gone was the chaos of the restaurant, gone was the rest of the world as his eyes reached you.

and he had the audacity to bow to you, flash a smirk, throw a smile at your date, and take his seat at the bar as if it was his throne. of course, his seat faced you, his eyes stayed on you as his hands played and twirled with her hair.

“see something you like?” your date growled from the other side of the table.

you had forgotten about him.

“sorry, i got distracted” you mumbled, you wondered if he would figure out just how insincere your words were. he laughed bitterly, fingers tapping incessantly at his wine glass.

his demeanor had changed, his shoulders were tense and tight, and you could feel his leg knocking onto the table, you had pissed him off.

you wish you cared.

“i’ve met your type, you think that looking and acting like a slut will help you get away with everything, don’t you?” his eyes gleamed wickedly as he smiled at you, you felt a chill run down your spine even if you weren't threatened.

all your life, you’ve met all kinds of men, it didn’t help you get used to how cruel and animalistic some of them could be.

your phone pinged and flashed red.

‘eliminate!’

your heart contracted rapidly as your hands tried to search for the gun on your thigh holster, your fingers fumbled to pull it out and you could feel it all slip away.

you couldn’t let him get the notification too, he would kill you, he would kill you in front of jimin, he would kill you and you would never see jimin again, never feel him again, never breathe him in agai-

but then, his head dropped on the table.

your hands fell away from your holster as your entire body stiffened and fell back on your chair.

you hated that you didn’t feel anything as his blood pooled around his head, as people screamed and rushed out of the restaurant, as waiters fumbled with their phones to call the police, you hated that your gaze immediately went to jimin.

his hand was raised, a gun pointed in your direction.

your suspicions were right.

‘successful!’

your screen turned green.

people ran with their children in front of you, people stared in horror at the man whose blood overflowed from the table, people saw you staring at the bar instead of the dying man in front of you.

public eliminations were rare, and most notifications were delivered in the safety of private homes but desperate times, such as especially bad events on a date, would lead to this.

jimin’s date got up, seemed to scream at him, seemed to seek his attention but he peeked and bent around her body to keep looking at you, she turned around with fury in her eyes, only to huff loudly and run out of the restaurant too.

then, it was the two of you again.

how could you feel a touch, months after it’s been on you?

how could you feel him, miles apart?

you hated yourself for how warm you felt now that it was just you and him.

you pushed yourself out of your chair, charging towards jimin with a rage you only felt around him, the rage of wanting him but not having him, the rage of never forgetting him, the rage of not being able to detach yourself from him, the rage of seeing him with another, he watched with a tilted head as you approached him.

“come outside,” you demanded, already turning around to get out but he spun towards the bar, “why? we have all the privacy we want, right here” he tapped the seat next to him with his lips pulled to one side.

you were impatient, out of time, out of your depth, out of control, which urged you to grab jimin by the collar and drag him to the rain-soaked pavements outside.

there was no way you were going to have a conversation when a man lay dead, a couple of steps away from you, a man that he killed, a man that you were supposed to kill.

“what were you thinking, jimin?” you screeched once you couldn’t see blood dripping down the table you left behind. even as the rain soaked you, you felt burning hot anger bubbling in you.

“why do you care? were you in love with him or something?” jimin sneered, adjusting his shirt and looking away to the side, his voice was irritated but his face wasn’t, jimin had ever been good at hiding his vulnerability. there was this nervousness, this tapping of his foot, that gave him away.

“it shouldn’t matter to you, jimin!” you yelled loudly, though your face fell away in unguarded softness. it shouldn’t have been his bullet today, it should’ve been yours, it’s funny to you that it always ends up having to be yours.

“why?” jimin turned back to look at you with a frown so deep, you wondered if he was feeling the strain of the conversation already, if he was feeling the strain of being so close and far.

do you want me in your arms? i want you in mine.

“what do you mean, why?” you threw your hands in the air as a deep exhale left your body, a last attempt to calm yourself, “why shouldn’t it matter to me? as far as i know, i’m the only one it should matter to,” he roared back, chest puffing as he stepped closer to you.

come closer, don’t you dare step back, take me away from this rain, this place, these people, this world, take me to a place where i can hold you and you can hold me.

“you know exactly why” you steeled your gaze to get your point across, though you wondered if he could hear your heart break from where he stood.

jimin watched you with careful eyes, sorrow hid under his eyelashes, sorrow that he tried to blink away, sorrow that barely concealed the anger he felt.

but not at you.

never at you.

he reached for your hand, causing you to flinch and shift a couple of steps away, he felt like a wound that never quite healed, cut itself open again, “what are you so afraid of?”

your heartbeat quickened, “jimin, stay back, we don’t know about the warn-“

“that ship sailed when you yanked my collar, love” his lips pulled to one side as he showed his phone screen that was bright red, and your heart drowned all over again, your phone buzzed in your hand, you knew what it meant.

your second warning.

“why don’t we just take advantage of this?” he whispered so softly, that the rest of the world tapped out, it was just him and his face and his voice and his hands that pushed your hair back.

life filled your lungs in a rush, life so vibrant and bright, life so blindingly fine.

soft soft hands, soft hands that touch me, soft hands that have touched me before, soft hands which i love, i love the man with soft hands.

“we could go back to our place, watch some movies, just talk, you can tell me how terrible your dates have been,” he paused to chuckle a little and it filled you with lightness, you believed you could float, “we could let the warning stretch, we could let it all just ring, i don’t care, as long as you’re there, i don’t care about anything.”

he still calls it ‘our’ place, i have a place in this world.

your phone buzzed and flashed red repeatedly as he held your cheeks and leaned in, just to let his breath fan over your face, just to let his lips brush over yours.

“but don’t push me away, i need you.” you could tell he was holding back tears and you couldn’t tell that you were crying already until his hands wiped across your cheeks, your hands fell on his shirt, unsurely grazing the fabric.

did you want him closer? was that possible?

‘eliminate!’

‘eliminate!’

‘eliminate!’

your phone threw the red onto his face, flashing so rapidly that you wanted to break it, but when you caught his eyes, his ever so tender, ever so loving, ever so giving eyes, you got reminded of the bullet you put in him. now, the red light looked like his blood.

i love the man with soft hands. his soft hands touch me and i touch him, he tells me sweet things when our lives are on a rope, how can i not fall?

i hurt the man with soft hands, i don’t deserve the man with soft hands.

your hands were desperately hanging onto his shirt now but you could feel your stomach in your throat, your heart in your legs, your head in the stormy clouds and you pushed him away.

you stumbled back, hiccupping and gripping your phone.

‘eliminate!’

“please, just listen to me-“ but you couldn’t, all you could hear was the traffic, the people, your phone, and the world, it all returned back to you and you couldn’t hide in his face any longer.

“just stop, jimin!” you let out your cry, heart squeezing itself dry onto the pavement.

i can’t hurt you, i can’t die, but i will die if i don’t hurt you, would you kill me? save me this pain? take me away.

jimin’s rage returned.

“we need to stop this, don’t show your face around me again” you turned and walked away before your heart fell on his feet and you couldn’t pick it up again.

step.

step.

step.

pull me back, don’t let me go.

“how do you walk away every single time?” his voice was low, barely audible but it fell on you like bricks raining from the sky.

your steps stopped, everything in you paused at the tension in his voice.

“how do you live without me? why is it so easy for you to be without me?” he got louder, angrier, more desperate, more of everything, you knew his eyes were burning into your skin and leaving scars that would never fade.

i’m not living, i’m breathing, i’m existing, it's not the same.

“jimin,” you breathed out, your entire body stood confused at the jolts of torments that passed through it, you tried not to fall on your knees at his assumption.

did he think this was easy for you?

did he think that he didn’t haunt every single living thought in your head?

did he think you could ever forget the grief that shot through you when you saw him on the ground, that you could ever forget him?

“do you not remember anything?” he whispered again, a sad smile stretched on his face.

i remember too much.

i remember drifting through these roads on your bike, i remember laughing into your hair and the warmth of your neck on cold nights, i remember the leather of your jacket and the coldness of you necklace, i remember the cat you loved even if you are allergic, i remember the story of your first kiss, i remember the lingering love you hold for her, i remember the greater love you held for me.

i remember the day i died when my phone flashed red for the first time.

i remember everything.

“no, and you should forget it too” you shook off his scent that crawled on your back to choke you.

“i don’t believe you,” jimin narrowed his eyes at you, he could see the memories playing like a videotape behind your eyes.

“i don’t either,” he pulled back at the sad chuckle that left your tear-dried lips and he could only watch as you got into your bike and drove away into the night, once again, leaving him to himself.

your tears came anew as the gush of wind froze them on your face, you no longer had his neck to bury yourself into, and you no longer had his jacket to grip onto, it was just you, the night and everything else burning in and out of existence.

you could tell it all to him, you could tell him that you haven't been alive since the second you held that gun in your hands, you could tell him that you imagined him on every face you kissed but it was easier to not tell it all.

it was easier to pretend that you didn’t know what you felt, it was easier to tell him you didn’t know when you knew it all, and it was easier to go back to your room and stare at the ceiling till morning came.

-

december 31st, 2023.

six hours were left to new years.

you just killed another person, and this time, you didn’t bother remembering anything about them, their name, their hobbies, their interests, their face just before they died, it only gave you nightmares.

the paper of your cigarette was soaked red as your hands dripped on them, your bedroom was being sterilized and you were once again, wholly surrounded by the smell of blood and death and nothing else.

you would need to get new sheets, a new bed, a new carpet, and new candles.

what a way to start a new year.

your head fell back on the sofa as a dull ache coursed through you, the ache was ever-present now, your only consistent companion, it stayed with you as life threw you from a puddle, to a pond, to a lake, to a river and then, at the deep edge of the sea.

your feet dragged as you closed the door behind the cleaners, you wondered if they were welcoming the new year with someone they loved or if they were too, much like you, rotting around the smell of death.

three hours were left to new years.

you wondered what jimin was doing, and then you laughed into the silence around you, when did you ever stop thinking about what jimin was doing?

but you were two strikes down, another one would only end with you both six feet underground and you couldn’t do that to jimin.

one hour was left to new years.

you were somehow standing in front of ‘your’ apartment, it was really jimin’s but it stuck with you that he had called it ‘our.’

in life, there are logical choices, mapped out, ready for action, the results would be great for you but as humans, we very rarely follow through with logical choices because even if we have a monologue prepared, an argument, a plan of action, we see the face of some people, we see the nights we spent with them, we see the words we never told anyone else, we see our expired love creeping on their backs and it all crumbles.

those choices are always shadowed by, not your heart, as many would like to believe, it’s always you, as a whole, just you. because sometimes, we don’t want the peace that comes with logic, we want the freefall that comes with doing whatever the heck you want and regretting it all afterward.

and you wonder if you will ever make the smart choice when it comes to jimin.

the door swings open, your chest falls in relief at his face and an expectant smile from him, silence riddled around you both, welcomes you into your home.

you felt strangely out of your body, as if you were watching the night unravel and could do nothing but watch, as if you had no and all control, as if you could run and stay at the same time.

on your true bed, you splayed out your arms and legs, you didn’t exhale too loudly, jimin didn’t breathe too much, you pushed your face into the pillows that you and jimin used to lay on, you breathed in the scent, jimin stood back and watched, everything was just silent and perfect and your phones were nowhere near you.

i didn’t think we would be here again, i thought i lost you forever, i thought i would die with your love for me and my love for you, buried deep inside of me and someday, it would all be dug up and i won’t be there to witness any of it.

on your true table, you sat, legs folded on the chair, piping hot food flowing steam onto your face and you ate, jimin sat opposite to you and ate, the television roared with news of parties, fires, danger, sorrow, economy. a word didn’t leave your lips.

who really cares about the government anyway, right?

on your true sofa, your fingers threaded jimin’s hair as you pulled at his scalp, gently, maybe not so gently and he falls apart in your touch, he falls back and grabs you, again and again, you two rise and fall, like riptides that would devastate the shore, like rocks that hit to make fire, like hail that hits your feet and makes them numb, your bodies don’t care anymore, not about some warning, not about some stupid government, your bodies only craved for what the other offered.

why does morning have to come? why do nights like these not show mercy on me and stretch forever? why is this place not where i come back to anymore? how do i leave, with the memories of your feathers wrapped around my back?

at some point, the clock struck midnight and jimin’s twinkling eyes whispered to you, his hands rubbing circles on your waist, “happy new year, my love.”

all of the world’s happiness would have fit in the centimetre space between you two then, you didn’t want to think of how you would die after this, you didn’t want to think of how temporary it all was, you didn’t want to think of how tomorrow might never come.

but you woke up the next day, jimin’s arms on your stomach, a new year shining outside your window and you stumbled out of the bed for your phone, to see if it really was the end because you couldn’t get a better ending than this.

you didn’t get a warning.

you wouldn’t die today.

you sighed out in relief.

-

february 14th, 2024.

you got lucky that day, too lucky, you had stretched your luck till afternoon dawned. that morning, you got on jimin’s bike and let yourself float in the backseat as wind pricked your face, you had been hoping that the final warning will come, that you could die happy but even as your head rested on jimin’s shoulder and the beach waves crashed in front of you, even as he nestled his face into your head and breathed you in, your phones hadn’t made a single noise.

the next morning, you were back to wanting to survive, jimin tried to keep you in his bed, he had whispered promises to you, he had kissed your cheeks and his hands had gripped onto your arms.

but you had run away, it wasn’t your home and you couldn’t play around with your luck anymore, maybe it was a glitch, maybe it was an anomaly, no one knew how the warnings came, and you weren’t exactly excited to know why you were granted those few hours with jimin.

and you found someone.

someone not like keith, someone not too sick or old, his name was wooseok and he treated you gently, treated you lovingly, he held your hand as you walked, he kissed you on the forehead, he promised to let you down gently if the notification ever came, as per your request.

but his hands weren’t soft and you weren’t in love with him.

you punched the sandbag in front of you, harder than your instructor had told you to, harder than you wanted to, the night fell around you with each punch, no one came around this time and the solitude comforted you.

soon, you had to meet wooseok for dinner, a valentine’s dinner, a night filled with affection and attention, you were looking forward to it, at least you were trying to look forward to it.

the elevator pinged behind you, slowing your punches, you turned around to glare at whoever came in, this was the only alone time you had, you couldn’t have some idiot mess it up.

but then your face relaxed as wooseok walked in, your arms immediately stretched in front of you to wrap around his neck and he chuckled into your neck, “couldn’t wait till dinner, forgive me.” he brushed your cheeks before kissing you on the forehead and you tried to hide the way your body tensed.

“i’m glad, i’ll be done in a bit,” you said with a half-genuine smile and he nodded.

i can be happy without jimin, i can live and not be afraid to love, i can learn to love wooseok’s rough hands and i can live live live

the elevator pinged again; you didn’t bother looking at who it was until you heard the soft thump of a bag falling to the floor. “just two minutes,” he whispered before burying his face in your neck again and this time, your body gave up fighting, you relaxed into him and let out a sigh. hidden by wooseok’s body, you peeked to the side to see who it was.

it was instantaneous, the reaction, the rush of blood to your head and heart, the restlessness that started building in you.

you felt your chest tear, your legs break under you, your hands falling off but nothing happened to you, even if you wished your mental pain could become physical, you still breathed fine, stood fine, lived fine, still clung to wooseok’s neck fine.

just one look at jimin had you crumbling even as someone held you up.

i cannot be happy without jimin.

“i’ll be waiting downstairs,” wooseok whispered, with no knowledge of your intruder, he kissed your cheek and you tried to hide the paleness of your face as you nodded, he leaves with a lingering look at you, so filled with love.

and your throat closes up again as the elevator takes him away.

jimin looks at you, waiting for you to speak, apologize, explain, anything, any words you give, he would take and he tries to hold his ground while his mind assaults him with playbacks to you and someone else wrapped around you.

your content face, instead of fear, your smile, instead of a scowl, your affection, instead of wariness, everything jimin wanted with you, you found in someone else.

he would’ve done anything for all of that, would your new boy do it? would he make you his as jimin had?

once he understands that you were going to ignore this, he walks towards you slowly, taking all the time in the world, you heard his steps but you kept putting your stuff away, determined to leave as soon as you could.

the world spun at your feet when he halts behind you, you felt the warmth of his body and his soft soft soft soft hands holding your hips as he gazed from behind you, into the mirror, you stood frozen.

how easy would it be to just melt into you? how easy would it be to go back home with you, to you, spend my hours breathing with you?

no.

you had someone now.

“jimin, step back,” you glanced anxiously towards where you left your phone and jimin is reckless, out of patience and at the end of the line here, “how does he treat you, love?” he whispers against your ear, in a mocking tone that you hated.

but heat crawls and wraps around you fast, you find yourself wanting to lean back on him, let him carry you away and let everything else fall away, let your life fall away.

not better than you, no one gets me like you do.

“he’s incredible, treats me very well” you turn your nose up in the air, speaking anything and everything to make him believe that you were alright without him, but as always, jimin sees right through you, he hums before leaning his chin on your shoulder and sucking in a breath, that has your knees bucking.

“does he, now?” you nodded, but the rest of your body was so still, you didn’t know if you were still breathing or not.

then, he wrapped his arms around your abdomen, pulled you flush against him, “this is how he held you, isn’t it?” you didn’t answer, “and how much time did he ask for? two minutes?” he laughed again, a sick kind of laugh that you had never heard from jimin before.

“what does he have that i don’t, love? what is it?” he mumbles into your neck, lips flush against your skin and you can’t hold the shiver that passes through you, there’s a daze that dances around you, a weight that holds your eyes down as his hands play with your skin, but you know what you two don’t have.

time. i have time, time that isn’t running out right in front of my eyes, time that doesn’t keep me up at night.

nothing, he has nothing compared to jimin.

“i will let you go only because i know you will kill him one day, and i know where you’ll be once you wash his blood away,” he steps back, leaving you with an ocean of air and a whirlpool room, it takes you a minute to come back to the world.

“actually, he will kill me,” you say finally, jimin turns around from picking his bag up, “i told him, if the warning comes, to kill me.” that decision made you feel lightweight, you would finally be rid of the system, this world, everything once things with wooseok fizzle.

you hadn’t conjured jimin’s reaction, you hadn’t put too much thought into it but a body-shaking laughter wasn’t what you expected at all.

he was bent with hands on his knees, laugh after laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he gasped for breath and you stood there, feeling unsure, humiliated and embarrassed.

and so so naked.

“what’s so funny, jimin?” he held a hand up, steadied himself with a wide grin on his face as he wiped a happy tear from the corner of his eyes, “what’s funny, love, is that you really think you will let him kill you, that is just hilarious.”

you grow red at his words as a wave of shame threatens to shake you off balance, “you know nothing about me, i’ve done enough, i’ve killed enough-“

“and you will do it again.” he says, a hint of a smirk still on his face.

i would.

i wouldn’t.

would i?

you are taken back to all the faces that you had forgotten after they died, keith, the old man, the woman, the memories that died with them, somewhere in you, you had always waited to kill some of them, even if you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t, everyone except jimin, didn’t exist in your head anymore.

“you have n-no idea what you are talking about,” you couldn’t believe that somehow jimin had figured this part of you out, you felt nauseous that he knew the worst parts of you.

“i am the only one who knows, because you loved me most, you loved me like you loved nothing else, you still do and that didn’t stop you from putting a bullet in me, did it?” he clicked on the elevator door as you hurried to catch up to him, stomping after him to prove him wrong, to tell him he had it all wrong but you have no words that are truthful to defend yourself.

i loved you like the soil loves water, like children love lollipops, like waves love the shore, i love you with all of me.

but i killed you and i cried.

i killed you.

you shoved yourself into the elevator with him, chest heaving, mind light and heavy, arms so tired but shaking with restrained anger and he looks at you with, was it pity?

“then, why chase after me if i am so vile?” you scream in his direction, a layer of you was peeled and left to bleed now, you had no idea how to stop it.

your phone buzzed and flashed red.

jimin’s phone buzzed and flashed red.

you look at each other, raw fear flashing just for a second before relaxing, isn’t this what you wanted, anyway?

your third and final warning.

“because i love you too much to care about myself and i’m the only one who can handle it, i’m the only one who would die for you.” he says with conviction, as if it was something he had rehearsed, something he had to repeat to himself. he turns his phone away and tucks it into his pocket.

you wanted to say, i love you too, and i know you’re the only one but the elevator doors open and you’re shoved into the darkness of the parking space, where wooseok stood, hands waving and a bright smile.

“save him and come back to me,” jimin whispers as he leans to give you the shortest, sweetest, most painful kiss on your temple before he’s sending you on your way and stepping back.

wooseok traps you in his arms and spins you around, pure joy radiating off him and you can only gulp and try to smile, “ready for our dinner?” he squeezes your arms with a breathtaking smile, and it takes everything in you to not vomit at his feet.

you nod, he grins and whips around to open the car door for you.

you look back to see jimin, in the elevator, just when the doors start to close, he mouths ‘till next time’ and a slow smirk grows on his face as he disappears behind the metal and you are sure you’ve left your heart in there.

“let’s go,” you sit in the car and watch out the window as it rains again, soft music plays from the radio and your body is rigid, tight, too painful to move and wooseok notices it, he reaches over, brushes your thighs with his rough so rough hands and soothes you with his words.

your phone buzzes in your lap and your heart jumps to your throat.

wooseok’s eyes turn down in sadness and you want to reach over, hold his cheeks and tell him, i love you, even if you don’t mean it but you don’t move a muscle. misunderstanding your silence, he slows the car and his phone flashes red as well, he sighs, eyes so sad, eyes lined with tears and you don’t feel anything.

it hurts that you feel as empty as a shell.

“i’ll keep my promise, i’ll give you a painless end” he mumbles softly, kissing the back of your hands and your feet start to tingle at the guilt that numbs you.

you act as if you are going to cup his face, he leans in with soft eyes and rough hands, you give a sharp tug to the steering wheel and the vehicle fastens towards a nearby tree.

you, so desperately wanted jimin to be wrong but as wooseok’s lifeless face stared back at you, you knew he was right.

you got out of the car, littered with a couple cuts and a lanky step, and walk towards the only place that belongs to you, the only place that you knew would welcome you back with snide smirks and silence and love, so much love, home.

your home.

-

‘eliminate!’

.

.

.

‘successful!’

[atinylittlepain]

Atlantic City

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy universe

wordcount | 3.2K

content info | 18+ smut, WASPy parental trauma, misogynistic father boooooo, little angst, New Jersey, mostly fluff though

a/n | special thanks to orange anon who isn't anon anymore - apologies this one took a while :')

.........................................................

He can’t sleep. He’s in the plaid room again, close and quiet and suddenly he’s small, young, swallowed up by the thin pall of the past. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if this was such a good idea, but Andy’s not even here for him to tell her that. Down the hall in the guestroom because his mother hadn’t even given them the chance to protest that no, both adults, no, same room is fine. She had already dropped Andy’s bag in the guest room and his bag in the plaid room and given him a pointed look about the whole thing that meant silence, he knows it well. 

And he’s considering it, he is, padding down the hallway and slipping in under the covers with her, breathing her in and breathing the detergent his mother has used since he was little out. But something is stopping him, keeping him tangled and curled up in the plaid room, that smalling, that suddenly twelve again thing. 

They had flipped a coin before spring break. Which set of parents would be met first, and nobody was winning, really, in this situation. Andy took it in stride when it became clear they’d be paying a visit to Chip and Diane Harrington, shrugging, dramatic warbling of that John Mellencamp song, a little ditty about Chip and Diane, two American kids causing parental trauma in the Heartland. He had laughed at the time. He’s not really laughing now. 

Dinner had been as tense and tight as a closed fist. At first, his parents had behaved like Andy wasn’t even there, directing all their questions, all their scrutiny onto him, the usual rundown of yes, decent grades, and yes, how great, the post-grad job he has lined up, yes, mom, yes, dad. And when their attention turned to Andy, never one to back down, ever, the conversation had curdled from a question about her thesis to her asking Diane about her multiple admissions to the state hospital for “exhaustion,” air quotes necessary to connote the dose of skepticism Andy parceled around the word while Chip glared at her and Diane grew skittish, smiling nervous and talking in that high, airy voice of hers. 

Steve had managed to steer far enough away from that with a tact that can only be found in the children of parents like Chip and Diane, always on the defense in that way. But when they had gone up to bed, his father had stopped him, hand curled, clawed, on his shoulder and I’m not sure about this one, champ. Not sure about this one, right, and got a mouth, doesn’t she? Something else was said about a firm hand and a tight leash while his stomach started to swirl and sicken. He didn’t say anything, just nodded, the smallest okay, dad, goodnight, dad, and he hates himself for that, tossing and turning in his twin bed because he hates that he didn’t, what? Defend her? Snap and snarl back against the closing hand, closing jaw of his dad? Not that Andy needs anyone to defend her, not that it matters what Chip thinks, not really, but still, but still. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been lying there when his door cracks open, the muffled sound of footsteps, a hand curling on his hip, skating up to his ribs and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder, just inches to the very edge of his bed to make as much room as he can for her to slip in behind him, her palm coming to rest splayed over the center of his chest, her lips pressed to the nape of his neck as she settles around him.

“I’m sorry, I think I was a dick to your mom.”

“It’s okay, she’s so heavily medicated I don’t think she’ll remember it in the morning.” She hums, her legs tangling up close with his, perfectly curled into and around each other and barely fitting on this stupid twin bed, but it’s the greatest relief to have her here with him, like the walls aren’t closing in, like his ribs aren’t pinching and pulling taut, her palm over his heart reminding him to pump blood like this, breathe like this. And when she presses a kiss to the shell of his ear, for whatever reason, that’s the thing that finally breaks the thick heat swelling and stuck behind his eyes, water starting to pool and spill, turning his vision into stained glass. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He tries to speak, but a strange sound breaks in his throat instead, a little like a sob, but softer, her hands holding him through the shake. 

“I always forget how much I hate being here.” And that is but isn’t all of it. Yes, he forgets how  much he hates being here, but he also forgets how small he feels being here, how young. He forgets the fights, and the silence that was somehow worse. He forgets the seemingly constant alternation in those last few years of sleeping in Eddie’s or Robin’s bed simply because he didn’t like being small and alone in this big house. And it’s a good thing, he thinks, that he can forget about these things in the new life he has. But it’s difficult to remember that the plaid room and the silence isn’t his life any more when he’s back in it like he is now.

“Am I making it better or worse being here right now?”

“Better, please stay.” She holds him a little tighter, little closer, her other hand brushing his hair back from his face and of course, baby, of course I’ll stay, and he can’t even feel all that foolish for crying in front of her because she’s not like that about these things, and it plainly feels too good to be held by her for him to think about much else than her hands and the warmth of her body against his. 

“Do you want to leave?”

“Right now?”

“Well, I was thinking in the morning. Don’t want those two thinking I kidnapped you and like, ritually sacrificed you to Courtney Love or something. But I’m also not opposed to leaving now if you really want to.” He turns over just enough that he can look at her, the soft curve of her smile, nothing but care, no judgment, no recoil when she sees his bleary eyes, the pull of his frown. She cups his face in her hand, thumb stroking at stray salt beneath his eye, and he knows that she would do it, if he said he wanted to leave right now, she would do it, pack both of their bags and toss them in the car and get them the hell out of here before his parents even woke up. How lovely, how devastating, to be loved like this, to be loved by her.

“My mom said she wanted to take you shopping tomorrow.”

“Steve, to be frank, I don’t really give a fuck about what your mom wants right now.” 

“Where would we go, back to your place?”

“We could, but Robin and her girlfriend are watching Sylvia until the end of the week so really, we could go wherever we want to. Anywhere else you want to go?”

“Anywhere?”

“Yeah, I’m paying for gas, dream big, we’ve got a whole week to kill.” And by some strange unfurling in his mind, the first place he thinks of is Cape May, New Jersey, an errant memory of a family vacation, a good memory, young memory, warm and rare memory. Small town and candy-coated storefronts and the beach, of course, the beach. He remembers spending most of that week blowing his allowance on ice pops and roaming the pier alone, sticky hands and sugar-sour stomach, threading through throngs of too tall and too tan legs. He remembers pure, unfettered joy. And if Andy has any qualms about New Jersey she does a good job of hiding it, smiling and alright, baby, we ride at dawn. They don’t really sleep, just curl up close and plot out their grand escape until the light is starting to turn pale and thin, and the plaid room becomes something other than a cage.

She takes care of it in the morning, takes no prisoners and leaves no room for questions, breezes into the kitchen on a long sigh and Robin called, something’s wrong with Sylvia, and he does his best not to laugh as he oh no, should we go back? and Andy’s gosh, I feel terrible, but yeah, we probably should, a veritable production right under the rims of Chip and Diane’s coffee mugs. They get their bags into the trunk of his car in record time while Andy coddles and coos oooh, I’m really sorry, Chip, Diane, but it was lovely to meet you, Chip, Diane, oooh in June? Hmm, I think we’ll both be a little too busy, but thank you, Chip, Diane, let’s not and say we didn’t. That last part, muttered under a quick breath as she ducks down into the passenger seat. He makes a mental note to thank Robin for calling his parents’ house, after he called her and asked her to do exactly that earlier in the morning. 

They don’t look at each other until they’re back on the highway heading east, grins splitting into laughter, Andy leaning over the console to press a smacking kiss to his cheek.

“To Jersey, baby.” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Well, I try. Let’s switch off when we reach Cincinnati, alright?” 

And, well, the truth is they didn’t think this through, at least not as well as they thought they had. They stop more times than they should, don’t even make it to Cincinnati before breakfast beckons. A crueler for him, coffee with cream, and a maple bar for her, her coffee black, perfect shards of sugar sifting and snowing over the dash of his car, a little sick and a little giddy kick in their stomachs. A handful of stops in Ohio too, gas stations and rest stops and an admitted music shop because they’ve run out of fresh cassettes by the time they pass through Akron. And Pennsylvania, forget it. A delirious afternoon haze, a strange conversation about the Amish, the lingering smell of pickles from the burgers they shared for a late lunch. But after their third or fourth driver seat switch, Andy starting to nod off on the passenger’s side, he realizes a bit idly that he hasn’t really stopped smiling since they left Indiana. 

For the record, they never make it to Cape May. The sun has already set, leaving a vivid wash of orange bruising into blue by the time they’re driving through Atlantic City, and they both seem to have the same thought at the same time. Yeah, like the Springsteen song. So they scrap Cape May and car crawl down to the beach, and it’s cold, March, wind bitten and bitter, and dark, and they cling to each other, hands tucked in close against ribs and chin tucked toward chin as they flirt closer to the water. And because it’s cold, and because it’s dark, they’re the only ones out here on this gray-blue stretch of beach, the slow thrum of the water breathing in and out. Andy grins at him and he feels young in a new way, and when she wordlessly starts shrugging out of her shoes and popping the button of her jeans, of course, he follows suit. 

It’s cold, bracingly so, all the air shuttering up still in his lungs, up to his shins, then his thighs, then his hips, Andy holding his hand and it doesn’t count if you don’t get your hair wet before she’s dipping under the dark ink of water, resurfacing with a burst and break of laughter, her hair slicked back and the pooling water on her skin shimmering and shining in the distant light of the city. He does it too, with a yelp, a yawp, coming back up for air to the sound of her laugh and then they’re sprinting out just as fast as they dared and daunted in, teeth chattering as they pull their clothes on over damp skin. 

“We’re probably gonna catch some kind of flesh-eating disease from that water.” Shivering words that are almost drowned out by the wheezing roar of the heat turned all the way up in his car, he has to laugh, a little bleary eyed while she winds and weaves through the city streets, eyes peeled for a hotel.

“At least we’ll go out together.”

“Knew you were gonna say something like that. So romantic, we can put ointment on each other’s matching rashes.”

“Well when you put it that way.” Matching grins, turned giddy and bold, and they smell like the sea, and that’s less lovely than it sounds. They smell like brine, like snapping cold, his nose burning a little with it, eyes red-rimmed and weary, but still smiling, her hand in his over the console. 

They end up getting a room at a motel with so many lights burned out in its vacant rooms sign that all that’s left is the red neon glow of CAN. It’ll do. A shower for both of them, because when she starts pressing kisses to the soft hook of his jaw, she laughs, you’re salty, Jesus Christ. And she wasn’t wrong, boyish and a little brash when he licks a stripe up the side of her neck, smacking his lips in a barely contained grin while she squawks and squirms. So, a shower, skin tacky and warm, and he feels like something perfect, something preening, is unfurling in his chest as he watches her lay out on the coarse sheets of the bed, bare, the soft spread of her hips, shadows bending and breaking in warm lamplight. She smiles at him, her chin tucked down and shoulder hiked, chipped purple nail polish trailing a line of want from her navel up and up between her breasts, along her clavicle. It becomes more clear to him every time he sees her like this that yes, he’s a goner. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby, you feeling good?”

“Yeah, you?” She hums, mmhmm, rolling her lips back to hide the stretch of her smile, palms splaying along his ribs when he settles between her thighs, breathing in the close heat of each other. And there are words he would like to say, though they fail him, this feeling too big and buoyant to wrap language around. Good love, giddy love, turning to fizz and foam, and he thanks her, thank you for today, with his mouth pressed into her sternum, nose grazing up along line and ligament, the catch of breath in her throat, her smile. 

They move with a patience that’s new to them both. In the early days, the beginning, when they were both still skirting around the edges of this being something serious, there was also a tinge of something a little frantic, a little fear and frenzy laced into their fingertips because, no, never sure if that time, or that time, or that time, would be the last. But neither of them are worried about that any more, whispered promises and easy comforts, staying, and certain in it. For the long haul, for it all. So now, now, they can take their time. 

And this is different too, at least for him. He had gotten used to, and good at, the performance of things like this, the putting on of things like this, move like this, moan like this, bodies fitted with bodies for particular outcomes. Andy had seen right through that early on, turning the tables, quick spin and her hands on his chest and an easy grin, and he was no longer thinking about the aesthetics of it, of what should follow what, wrapped up in the sense and sate, and now he blushes when she tells him he makes the prettiest sounds for her, pretty, pretty, pretty, my pretty boy. 

Her palms soothe presence into his spine, here, like this, be here, like this, and there’s a beat every time his hips settle against hers, a hiccup, a breath, how nice it feels to be with her, to be feeling this with her, both of them sighing, little keening cries that flicker into breathless laughter because how absurd, how obscene for them to have something as good as this. And he knows that they are the same in this way, two people convinced that no, never anything good like this, not for them, and now getting away with something good like this, good for them, and only them, and only theirs. 

The soft inside of her knee pressed against his hip makes easy movement out of turning them in the sheets, languid limbs and him on his back and her draped over him, the curve of her spine and the taut line of her neck when her head tips back, pooling light like flecks of gold and he puts his hand there, there, curled close at the front of her throat, not taking anything, but in fact asking, and accepting. Her hips roll, liquid and lovely, dark hair curled damp between her thighs, and it’s something better than art, he thinks. She sighs his name when his hand slips heavy down to cup the weight of her breast, just because he can, pleasure because he can. Like that, like that, they unravel for each other in the close stillness of the night, and stitch back together in the hazy aftermath, her cheek pressed over the battering ache of his heart, all hers.

“Can I ask you something about your parents?” Her chin propped on her forearm, voice barely above a whisper. He nods, his palm stopping its circuit in the dip of her spine.

“How did they meet?”

“High school, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t think that actually happened.”

“I don’t think it does any more, it probably shouldn’t have between those two.”

“Hmm, made a good kid, at least. Though I think that has more to do with you than it does with them.” And then, an afterthought, agonizingly sweet, her knuckles brushing along his cheek, you made it out, you know, and he does, presses a kiss to the pads of her fingers, making that knowing real. 

“What about yours?” Roll of her eyes and sigh, the same, but different.

“Two big Boston families, one marriage of sensibility. Add in a little catholic guilt and you end up with five kids and no hope of divorce any time soon.” She says it with half of a smile, a weak laugh that sounds like something else, something tired and trying. He doesn’t push though, doesn’t ask any more. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, he knows. Instead he nods and says a few simple words that sound a lot like what she told him. Getting out, both of them, making something new for themselves, together. 

“You think they’ll like me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m not even gonna ask if you think yours liked me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His words crackle and curl with his smile, relief in those words, in believing them. She smiles and something warm splits open in his chest, her palm pressed there like she knows.

“No, baby, it doesn’t.” 

[artsyjesseblue]

Slowly Going Mad - Part III - Lotor

This is the third installment of my meta series discussing three essential characters of Voltron:Legendary Defender (Zarkon, Honerva and Lotor) and their gradual mental state transitions throughout the show. After writing the first two parts, I’ve debated whether to publish Lotor’s segment or not, due to the emotional triggers this analysis might raise. I decided to go ahead and post it, because I’d love to create a coherent, complete set of essays, but…

We will descend into some sensitive issues (trauma, mental illness) regarding a controversial character, so if you would prefer to steer clear of it, please do so, for your own peace of mind. I know it has been almost five years since the show ended and many of us prefer to leave certain subjects behind. So, if you consider best to scroll past, do so. Hopefully, the warning tags will also provide a firewall around it.

Alright, if you clicked past the stop sign, hop along! And thank you for reading!

The purpose of this analysis is to demonstrate that Lotor’s trajectory towards Season 6 follows a mental illness arc, slowly built up, although the reveal of his backstory arrives to us pretty much… backwards. I will enter into subjects such as developmental psychology, coping mechanisms, transactional analysis (TA) and what it means to reach the dam breaking moment.

His sudden, shocking descent into madness in S6 is achieved through subtle context throughout S3-S6. Couple that context with the backstory dropped in S8 and a larger picture will form. This analysis intends to get granular at times, because the psychology of his path lies in the sum of many details.

Here are a few highlights that define a madness arc:

the originating point of the mental affliction: it can be a defeat, a failure, a loss, grief, a dark influence.

recurrent traumas and/or abuse throughout the character’s life, slowly building up.

the traumas and losses of the past haunt the character.

deterioration of connections with family, friends, community, and finally self. Broken connections lead to paranoia and isolation, which feed the vicious cycle.

as the story progresses, the character’s arc reaches a boiling point.

at this critical point, the individual faces a moment of agency and in a tragic mental breakdown, chooses madness. Whatever breaks the dam is a world-shattering event: extreme grief, total loss of loved ones, closest allies and friends, the breach of trust towards the world, or a combination of these. The character will try to fix the world and/or revenge against the ones who did this.

I’ll approach Lotor’s story the same way I did with the other two: chronologically, which means I’ll jump back and forth among episodes, because Lotor’s backstory is also scrambled across the seasons.

Similar mention as with Honerva and Zarkon’s metas:

1) The distinction between the entity and quintessence. The entity is a creature capable of magical stuff, whereas quintessence is a substance (highest known potency in the universe).

2) Shiro’s statement: “Zarkon fell prey to his own evil instincts. The quintessence field didn’t create them, it revealed them.” - it basically casts the responsibility on the character, not on external factors.

BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD

We’ll begin with the days of Honerva’s pregnancy. I already analyzed these parts in Honerva’s meta, so I’ll summarize. Pregnant Honerva shows distorted cheek marks and visible changing of her appearance: gray, unkempt hair, aged countenance, sagging shoulders. Parallel that to Kova, whose appearance changed after the rift entities attacked, and we deduce that Honerva’s metamorphosis might be due to the same kind of illness.

When Honerva falls ill and starts having what seem to be withdrawal symptoms, she demands to go into the rift to get quintessence, because “we must have it” / [we must] “get back into the rift”. The deduction I made was that the entity was actually the one speaking, because - other than the entity - nobody had ever been into the rift before, so “going back” into the rift is something that only the entity could have asked for. Logically, that means Honerva was possessed/infected with the entity.

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And this turns our attention to… baby Lotor:

S8E2 “Shadows”: “Sire, the birth was difficult, but successful. Your son is healthy and in good shape, though we seem to be getting some strange readings coming from him directly. Similar to those that, well… Similar to those of the empress and… yourself.”

And voila, I think that makes quite a strong argument that Lotor was born with the entity, which gives him a unique position among other characters. In the same scene, the doctor talks about Honerva’s state: “She only seems to become aware when we administer her quintessence. I’m hopeful her condition will improve with time, but… Sire, we’re gonna have to face the fact that our quintessence supplies are finite. The empire cannot continue to run on what we have. And you, and the Empress, without it… you’ll—”

I’m circling back to Kova, which was also revived only after administering him quintessence, and now it’s clear that these “space vampires” cannot survive without the Q life juice.

Which leads me to an interesting question: did Lotor also need quintessence to survive? The answer seems to lead to a no. For the extended period of time when he stayed in Allura’s castle, either as a prisoner or working together with the Paladins, he did not show any signs of… quintessence withdrawal. As the EPs described him, quintessence is part of his DNA. Without divulging anything about the entity, since this interview took place right after S5, here’s their description (Source: AfterBuzz TV S5 interview - link in comments, since external links here seem to affect the visibility of the post):

JDS: It’s pretty safe to say that Lotor’s got that Daywalker kind of thing going on.

Interviewer: Little Vampire.

LM: Being in…in her womb, as [Honerva] was being exposed to all of this quintessence - it’s part of his DNA. It almost puts him on a level with Allura, pretty much how her quintessence is a part of her DNA. So it’s interesting to see.

Armed with this information, let’s move through the buildup of events that show us Lotor’s backstory, before we see him for the first time in Season 3.

In S8E2, which I’ll quote for a while, because it holds the bulk of Lotor’s early years, we first see baby Lotor right after his birth, rejected by Honerva. Similarly, Zarkon’s paternal instincts are almost abolished. He abruptly orders the doctor: “Take him away.”

The complete lack of empathy for the little nugget gives us just a hint into what this child will go through as he grows up.

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The next time we meet him, he’s an adorable, tiny school boy, whose stature is below Galra lineage expectations, but as a counterbalance, Dayak points out his remarkable skills and intelligence: he completed the Agotian trials successfully, even though they were advanced for his age. Also, his tactical scores are they highest they’ve ever measured. (Tactical scores, hehe. We know he’s going to become a good tactician later in life; it’s his natural inclination, clearly.)

As Dayak proudly finishes the short account of her pupil, little Lotor speaks up: “All I do, I do in the name of Galra.” I found this little statement quite significant, especially in the context of his education. It comes to show how deep the Galra values are ingrained in his character. It is his pledge of allegiance, something that he must have repeated over and over along his school years. Repetitio est mater studiorum.

It’s absolutely heartbreaking to see the innocent boy with big, amethyst eyes and a burning desire to connect to his family be coldly dismissed by his own father - an expressionless, emotionless parent who wants to remove his “impurities”, simply because the little boy desires to know more about his mixed race genealogy and he dares to “speak out of his place”. The dynamic between father and son is revelatory not only for the brutality with which the little boy is treated by his own family, but, in contrast, we also get to see the enthusiasm and positive energy exuding from little Lotor, who, despite his father’s lack of empathy and mercy, still holds hope that he can somehow reason with him.

Dayak’s last reply to Zarkon feels painful on many levels: “He will be punished accordingly. We will sear him down to his inner fire so that he may burn the universe.” Whether she wants it or not, Dayak’s crop must inflict pain, lest she loses her job and probably her life.

Let’s shortly bring into focus the apparently hilarious moments between Dayak and Hunk.

The training is about pain, and what pain teaches an individual. “For the mind to learn, the body must be broken.” Palen-bol, meaning “the enlightening pain”, is the Galran way of learning. “The Galra believe combat is the searing light that burns imperfections of every level, from personal to societal.”

Now, imagine Lotor going through the “enlightening pain”, day by day, year after year, palen-bol after palen-bol. My smile upon seeing Hunk’s comedy soon fades away into a desolate expression. What Hunk basically learns is to contort himself into various unnatural poses, to avoid the painful whips of Dayak. When he finally gets it, she congratulates him: “very good”. In order to avoid the searing pain, he must find creative solutions out, solutions that are not always straight paths. Like a tree that grows distorted shapes in a hostile environment, so does one who lives in constant fear and pain.

TEEN LOTOR

The next significant moment in Lotor’s evolution is somewhere during his early teenage years.

Pay attention to certain verbal repetitions, as Lotor borrows from his father’s language. Also, the Kova scene leads to some interesting conclusions. I’m quoting the entire scene, for better understanding.

Officer: “Sire, your audience is requested in the Kandar wing.”

Lotor: “Father, may I accompany you?”

Zarkon: “You will stay here.”

Lotor: “But I want to join you. I have learned much of our—”

Zarkon: “You are an insolent boy. You may be the prince, but I am your emperor.”

Lotor silently yields, saluting solemnly, but casting a contemptuous look in his wake. After Zarkon has cleared the room, Lotor refocuses on Kova and instantly cheers up. As the boy is leaning over to pet the cat, Haggar suddenly speaks:

“Do not touch him. He will hurt you.”

With a sneer, the boy ignores her. After petting the cat, he asks: “What is his name?”

Haggar: “He has no name.”

Lotor: “Then I shall name it. Your name will be…”

Haggar: “Kova. His name is Kova.”

Lotor, giggling, watching Kova climb over his shoulders: “This creature pleases me. It will be mine.”

Haggar, attempting to protest: “My lord…”

Lotor: “You may be the high priestess, but I am your prince, and you will do as I say. Isn’t that right, Kova?”

Haggar acquiesces: “Yes, my lord.”

So, although years have passed since the scene with Dayak, Lotor is still speaking “out of his place”, which earns him the title of an “insolent boy”.

Despite (most likely) repeated physical punishments along the years, notice how his enthusiasm for life and learning new things is still there, brightly sparkling in his eyes, as he offers to go with his father at important meetings. He is jovial towards his father, as if expecting him to - one day - reciprocate that cordiality, perhaps? This little soul harbors a lot of love and forgiveness, that is for sure!

Despite Zarkon’s stony-hearted reaction towards him, he pouts only as an immediate reflex, but then he cheers himself up by petting Kova.

His impish pout and little frown behind his father’s back foreshadow a future scene - when Zarkon will return to the throne, sending Lotor away. A more refined smirk will cross his face as he’ll depart, hiding behind it a more complex scheme than a teenager’s little mischief, but that scene shall be discussed further when I’ll get to it.

This little detail in child-Lotor’s life is an interesting inflection point that shows us how he learns to conceal his inner thoughts and his ploys from Zarkon, and by extension, from the world (remember the comparison with a distorted tree?). We know that adult Lotor is a master at scheming behind people’s back, working from the shadows, hiding himself - something that even Haggar reproaches him: “You say you rule, yet you stay hidden.” It’s something that he learned over and over again as a kid.

“You may be the high priestess, but I am your prince…” Didn’t Zarkon just utter the same thing? “You may be a prince, but I am your emperor…” Little Lotor learns very fast, his mind is a sponge absorbing everything from his father. With this you can pretty much tell how in awe he still is with him, imitating his vocabulary and trying to emulate his demeanor. The attitude is there: he’s proud of what he’s learned so far, he’s self-confident, and begins to have leadership traits: “you will do as I say.” All he does, he does in the name of Galra…

As for the interaction with Kova, here’s how I see it:

When Haggar says, “Do not touch him. He will hurt you,” I believe the meaning is more than just “Kova will scratch you.” Since Kova and Haggar both are infected with the entity, what are the chances that Kova might possess the same potential of sucking out the life of other living beings?

So in this context, I think that witch Haggar presumes that the prince might get injured. She’s unaware that Kova will not cause him any harm, because… what do you know? Lotor also has a little entity; he was born with it. And Haggar has no clue.

The bond they will form for the next ten thousand years perhaps goes deeper than we think. We know from S8 that Haggar was able to get into the minds of her Altean followers, because she infected them with the entity. There is a telepathic communication that forms, and maybe Lotor and Kova form a similar… mental bond? I’m inclined to believe this theory for several reasons: 1) in S8, Honerva is able to find out Lotor’s location only after probing into Kova’s mind. 2) Narti was also mentally bonded with Kova, and she could see through the cat’s eyes (which stirs the question: did Narti have the entity as well?)

Deep breath.

Are you ready for one of the hardest scenes in VLD?

YOUNG ADULT LOTOR

“Are you nervous?” asks Ven’tar.

Lotor replies with a confident, affected voice, looking up and proudly surveying the grand plaza, filled with thousands of people cheering him. “No, Ven’tar. This is my chance to finally make a difference. To show my father what we are capable of.”

Besides the fact that he nonchalantly displays his cat at the edge of his balcony, for the masses to see, notice the expression on his face, his eyebrows. He is pleased with himself, proud of his achievements, proud of the people in front of him.

What he says is also very significant, because it comes to show that Lotor, despite a lifetime of abuse and trauma from his father (and neglect from his mother), still believes there is good in him. He wants to “show” him what he’s capable of.

Oof. The need for validation. Why do people seek validation from others (especially from their family)? You guessed it: mainly because during their childhood, they did not receive enough praise or encouragement.

Overachievers are, oftentimes, love-seeking people who try to compensate for the lack of approval by trying to reach even higher goals, in the hopes of getting the love they need. In that note, here’s what Lotor tells his father:

“Our quintessence yields are some of the highest in the empire, and we’ve been more efficient than any other. By working alongside the denizens of this planet, like Ven’tar here, we’ve outsourced—”

“We’ve outpaced even the most generous projections.”

Poor Lotor!

The most horrific introduction into adulthood is about to drop. The hopeful, optimistic, love-seeking prince will see the true face of his father, and it is not a beautiful one.

We don’t know the details of Lotor’s relationship with Ven’tar, but from the fact that she addresses him without any royal titles, we can infer that they are at least friends. He loves the people of this planet, and he enjoys having her around him, so much so that he actually brings her with him to his father. Meet the parents?

Tragically, his father is utterly offended by Lotor’s introduction to such friends. “You dare work with this pitiful race as if they are your equals? […] The heir to the Galra throne should not sully our honor by working with his subjects!”

Yet Lotor has not learned his lesson yet. He raises his voice at him, like an outraged child that believes there is a way to reason with Zarkon.

Transactional Analysis psychology at its best, this scene provides us with a “game” between the critical, persecuting Parent ego and the rebellious Child ego. Enraged that things are not going his way, but hoping there is still a chance to shake his father from his insensitive state, Lotor takes it up a notch (in a game of “I’ll show him, he’ll see!”):

“It is the way my mother’s people would have done things.”

Lotor knows exactly how sensitive this subject is. All his childhood, he has been banned from researching anything about Honerva. Yet here he is, openly and rebelliously admitting it:

“You thought I couldn’t find out about my own mother? About her people? You thought you destroyed every remnant of Altea, but you cannot unless you destroy your own son as well!”

Lotor is now playing a very dangerous game. What he still does not realize is that his father’s reason is gone, his madness is pushed all the way to the dark side of the spectrum. He bargains with his own life, betting that Zarkon won’t harm him or his subjects. What’s worse, he unwittingly bets an entire planet against his self-assured comments (“unless you destroy your own son as well”). Actually, Zarkon will destroy him too, alongside Ven’tar’s planet. Not physically, but psychologically, he sure does.

“Enough!” Zarkon roars back at him.

Yes, enough, because it’s unbearable for Zarkon to even go there. The madness that clouds his mind has abolished any rational Adult from the picture. There is only the Tyrant, and he’s made up his mind.

“You are to crush this planet beneath your heel!”

The rebel child fights back: “Never!!”

Zarkon’s answer completely takes Lotor aback: “Then I will!”

Lotor is still in denial. The most cruel, dark, ugly face of his father is finally revealed to him and he cannot fathom it out. His father is truly capable of the most abominable acts.

Incredulity and desperation drips from his lips: “You wouldn’t. You can’t! Father, wait!”

Father, wait… Maybe, maybe he can fix this… Maybe he can soften his heart with one last plea, maybe he can twist himself one more time to his father’s will, if only he could to save his beloved planet:

“No, please do not do this, Father. Do not make these people suffer for my actions.”

The rebellious child shrinks into a penitent little being who bends to his abusive parent. How can he save them, now, in the last moment?

Alas… “It is already done.”

“I will do as you ask. The people will serve the Galra.” He will bend, he will bow to his father’s will, he will endure once more the whipping and palen-bols, he would do anything to save them! (Isn’t just this scene enough to reveal Lotor’s true character?) Utterly desperate, he runs after him, begging.

But we all know how it all went down...

Waking up to face the image of utter destruction, the fire outside reflects the scorching pain and horror inside him.

“You are hereby banished from the empire. Forced to live out the remainder of your days remembering your failure here.”

Indeed he will remember it for his entire life. After thousands of years, it will be his first and only confession to Allura, spoken, of all places, at Oriande, the most beautiful, celestial site in the universe.

“Have you nothing to say, witch? Surely even you can see the folly of your master’s actions,” utters Lotor through gnashing teeth, back at Haggar, who watches him impassively.

After a tragedy of this magnitude, I’m quite sure many would lose their mind. How did Lotor find the strength to go on after this? How did he preserve his sanity? Or maybe he actually… didn’t?

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We know a little bit about Lotor’s life in between this event and the first time we actually meet him, in S3E1, in the gladiator arena. From what he told Allura, after the harrowing event on Ven’tar’s planet, he spent the next few centuries searching for clues about his Altean heritage. We also assume it was within that time frame when he gathered the Alteans scattered across the corners of the empire, and brought them to the hidden colony in the Quantum Abyss.

But why his Altean heritage, you ask? He could have simply tried to find his inner peace in other ways… like, I don’t know, let’s say meditating, getting mental treatment, finding an occupation that would give him a different purpose. No, he spent centuries diving into the lost history of Altea, “another culture destroyed by Zarkon.” This was the only occupation that could give meaning and purpose to his life.

Why Altea?

Because it was the culture of his mother, whom he idolized. So much so that he defied his father’s interdictions and followed the Altean customs when ruling Ven’tar’s planet. So much so that when Allura dares to suggest that Haggar might be his mother, he snaps at her.

A child rejected by his father, mistreated, beaten, abused, tries to find refuge and comfort at the bosom of his… mother.

After Zarkon destroyed his heart, Lotor ran straight into the arms of Mother Altea. I believe that as much as the lost Alteans needed him to provide them a safe refuge, he needed them even more. He needed them as a child would need a mother to turn to, a safe place where he could heal his wounds.

I think herein lies the key to understanding Lotor’s mental trajectory and giving a true meaning to his mental breakdown and to the words he utters during the S6 tragic events, as I’ll discuss when we’ll arrive there.

Take a few deep breaths. Stretch your legs.

ADULT LOTOR BEFORE ALLYING WITH VOLTRON

Let’s see what he’s up to, thousands of years after all is said and done, during the new Paladins’ era. Haggar summons him to return as pro tem, and we first meet him in the gladiator arena.

We learn a bit about him from the little gossip murmured between Throk and his crony, watching the show. The “exiled brat”, how they call him, likes to “fight alongside his enlisted men, like a lowly private.”

“Worse than that, his top generals aren’t even pure Galra. They’re half-breeds at best. He has no honor,” Throk continues.

“Some say he allows the planets he conquers to continue to rule themselves. Can you imagine?”

“Clearly he’s a dangerous lunatic.”

This is the general atmosphere in which Lotor enters as emperor pro-tem, but now we know what kind of “lunatic” we are meeting.

His combat skills show his great talent for evasive maneuvers, using the opponent’s size to his advantage. He has adapted perfectly to the hostile environment in which he grew up. Like Hunk learned to avoid Dayak’s stinging crop, Lotor masters the art of evasive maneuvers to the tiniest detail. He easily defeats the big guy, then, with a theatrical gesture, reveals Throk’s hidden agenda to the public (courtesy of Ezor spying around - so we also know he’s got some good tactics to stay ahead of the game).

During his fight with Throk, Lotor makes some interesting remarks:

“You have flawless technique, that I’ll grant you. Still, you must realize at some point, that your repetitive attacks are getting you nowhere.”

“Your tactics are stale. And in the end, your own aggression is your undoing.”

The easy win that Throk provides, along with the dramatic effect it has for the audience, gives Lotor the perfect opportunity to win the public’s heart, by sparing Throk’s life. A novel approach.

“My father built our Empire on the bones of his enemies. But the time has come to change the old ways, and inspire not fear from those we rule, but loyalty. We must not waste our energy fighting to keep our subjects down, but rather multiply it, by allowing those worthy to rise and join our ranks. The Universe can no longer doubt our strength. Each ally gained only makes us stronger, while those who continue to stand against us… will be crushed.”

Wise words of a visionary man with a progressive agenda, he seeks to dislodge the old ways of the regime.

“The masses are easily manipulated,” he tells his generals as he returns victorious. “Have Throk transferred out to the Ulippa system immediately. Let him rot with the ice worms,” he beams a wicked smile.

So where’s the “each ally gained makes us stronger” promise?

Well, Lotor is intelligent enough to weigh the quality of his so-called “allies”. Would Throk really be someone “worthy to rise and join his ranks”, after he just plotted against him? There is a Latin proverb - “viperam sub ala nutricare”, or “to nurse a viper under your wing” - a caveat that you may not want to keep vipers too close to you. And Lotor’s survival instinct keeps him far away from such vipers. Actually, he is constantly on the watch for vipers - a trait that I shall repeatedly point out, because it reveals his paranoid tendencies, born of his turbulent and traumatic past.

From this episode we learn that he is a calculated man, who sends spies ahead of him to assess the territory, who knows how to win the public’s heart through inspiring speeches and amazing warrior skills, and who has a keen eye for discerning friends from foes. Bottomline: a very guarded man. Does he seem duplicitous and a bit suspicious? He sure does, but does he really hide evil intents? As a first-time watcher of the show, that would be the instinct. But reading the story backwards - meaning, starting in the true chronological order, from his childhood - we begin to comprehend the true reasons behind his exploits.

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The following episodes reveal his brilliant tactics (of course, he practiced since he was a kid):

He easily lures the Paladins into multiple traps (Planet Puig, Thayserix), manipulating the battles in order to learn more about his opponents, all while enjoying himself. Not even looking to take them down, he simply wants to test their aptitudes and capture them if possible.

Ignoring his more impetuous generals, he knows when to retreat. “A leader must know when to leave the field of battle.” Something that Keith, as the new leader of Voltron, learns just now, for the first time. In many ways, the Paladins are learning new things via Lotor, and they’ll continue to learn from him throughout the seasons. As the EP’s also mentioned in multiple interviews, at their core, Lotor’s intentions are good, but his methods are not always as clean as Voltron may desire. He is operating not only from how he was raised, but also from the experience of his traumas, and we are given plenty of examples throughout the following seasons.

Lotor learns form every occasion, turning it to his advantage. The fact that the Lions can still form Voltron is “an opportunity”, which he fully wields, in S3E4 “Hole in the Sky”. Another trap for the Paladins, he effectively uses them to ‘pull his chestnuts out of the fire’. As he states, “If Voltron disappears from our world, then we win. If they make it out with the comet, we’ll take it from them. It’s a win either way.” Put that against his more tame clarification given to the Paladins, and you can see why it’s really a gray area where this man actually operates: “I’m afraid I had to be a bit duplicitous in effecting its retrieval. […] It was a calculated risk, I admit that. But I knew they’d come through without a scratch.” The high purpose he pursues (entering the rift) is worth the risks and the prices he’s willing to pay.

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In S3E5 “The Journey”, we learn something extremely valuable about him - how he has trained himself to be on constant alert about spies (remember the vipers mentioned earlier?). Swiftly apprehending general Raht, Haggar’s assigned secret agent, he decides to pay the witch a visit and confront her directly.

Haggar makes no gesture to deny the allegations, rather twisting the knife in his wound: “I know many ideas float through your head, just like your father, but the Galra Empire needs your leadership in these troubling times.” It almost resembles a domestic scene (I honestly chuckled), as if without realizing it, Haggar talks to him like a mother scolding her child. I find his reply equally entertaining (yet tragic), even his expression taking after that of a child desperately trying to rebel against his family: “I am the leader, but I am not my father!” It won’t be the first time when Haggar reproaches him that he’s not getting involved in imperial matters, only hiding in the shadows. That is his modus operandi - and we’re just beginning to understand why.

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The next episode, “Tailing a Comet” holds some keys about what Lotor is up to, but also carries some mysteries which have not been unlocked to this day. We learn that he already used some of the comet ore to manufacture a ship, but we also learn that he attacks a Galra base, in order to retrieve a teludav lens. Again, he’s operating from the shadows. As Pidge rightfully points out… “I thought Lotor took over for Zarkon. Why is he attacking a Galra base?” Because - Haggar, that’s why. We know she’s tailing him constantly and she is the last person in the universe that he’d team up with. In fact, if I get to think of it, Haggar stalking Lotor is the underlying thread of the entire show.

But what of the teludav lens? Clearly, a link must exist between that and the fact that Acxa was sent to retrieve scaultrite from the belly of the weblum, where Keith found her in the first place. Allura rightfully infers that an Altean must be employed to operate it, but she guesses Haggar wrong. Yes, Haggar is Altean, as Allura discovered in direct combat with her, but it’s clear that Lotor does not want anything to do with the witch.

That leaves us with only one alternative: someone in his hidden Altean colony. (Lotor himself seems to not possess Altean alchemy powers to operate a teludav, at least none that we’ve seen). This loose thread has never been elucidated. To spread even more mystery around Lotor’s aura, even his generals have no clue about the true purpose of all these shenanigans. As Shiro says, “something strange is going on here, and we need to figure it out.” Um, actually, we never fully figured it out, courtesy of the garfle-warfled S8.

I found an interesting parallel, and again, a lesson that Keith indirectly learns from his interaction with Lotor: the advice that Shiro gives Keith at the end of this episode: “You need to pick your battles. Sometimes you have to make hard choices.” Similarly, every choice that Lotor makes throughout his life is a battle he has to pick - behind Haggar’s back, as we learn right at the end of this episode, when the witch attempts to pry relevant memories about the teludav theft out of Throk’s mind, while Lotor eavesdrops, behind the corner.

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In S4E3 “Black Site” we get a multitude of new details about Lotor’s relationship with his family. When he is called to the imperial court to have his pro tem title dissolved, the first person he encounters as the doors hiss open is Haggar. For a very short moment, Lotor looks startled, and he casts a glance at the witch. Premonition?

As Lotor relinquishes imperial reigns back to his father, the interaction gives a quite fascinating subject of analysis. Lotor is no longer the naive youngling; he has completely abandoned the sincere vocabulary, instead glib words rolling off his tongue. He knows very well that Zarkon and him are never going to see eye to eye, but he did not come there to seek a fight. He’s not (yet) powerful enough to take him down, so the smooth-tongued approach has to be the way. He theatrically attempts an ingratiating offer to stay by Zarkon’s side and “learn” from him, knowing full-well that it will never happen. As expected, Zarkon dismisses him disdainfully.

And here’s the smirk I was talking about earlier:

It’s a rehearsed attitude, it’s the grown-up Lotor, like the tree grown under harsh weather, the prince whose childhood innocence and optimism have been replaced by a cynical, calculated demeanor, carrying out ploys behind his father’s back because the front door was closed a long time ago.

What a confident smirk.

He worked for so long on this plan.

He’s getting closer and closer to achieving his dream. He snatched the comet ore and he’s making his own Voltron. Soon he will be able to enter the rift and get as much quintessence as he needs, for his grand plans.

Unfortunately, his confidence becomes his blindspot, as Haggar taps into the mind connection with Kova.

The sad irony is that he thinks he has Haggar all sorted out, when, upon his departure, he runs a thorough scan of his ship for trackers. The scene screams “paranoia”, except this paranoia is indubitably justified. When you’ve been stalked for millennia by a family who seeks to destroy you, all your senses are sharpened, survival instinct ready to spring in action at any second, adrenalin ready to kick in.

Killing Narti, a huge blow for the team, does not ensue as a mindless knee-jerk reaction. It is a hard choice he makes, for their own survival. He learned throughout his life to decide on the run, and you can see it on his face that he takes no pleasure in killing. Narti falls victim, just like he later admits that he had to sacrifice a few Alteans to preserve the future for millions.

We do not know the circumstances in which he had to sacrifice “the few”, but if they resemble in any way the tough spot he found himself when slaying Narti, we begin to see the trail of tragedies that haunt his life.

—————————————

In S4, Ep3&5 we witness the growing mistrust of the generals towards Lotor. Ezor tells Acxa: “What about Narti? She trusted him. You saw where that got her.”

Notice that Lotor didn’t share some essential knowledge with his generals. The reason why he slayed Narti was because of the connection with Haggar via the entity inside Kova.

I believe none of the generals (except maybe Narti?) knows about the entity, his Quantum Abyss colony and his secret team building the inter-reality gate, based on their behavior along the show. Yes, Acxa might have a stronger loyalty, switching back to siding with him just from a few glance exchanges, but eventually she also renounces him.

In S8E5 “The Grudge”, Acxa explains to her friends in the gym room that “…we had to abandon the animal [Kova] on our destroyed ship so we could escape without being tracked.” This simply implies that she knew about Haggar controlling the cat, but not exactly how she controls the cat.

The rift gate scene also proves that Lotor runs secret operations that he obscures even from his generals (NB: when he deems appropriate, he discloses them). This is his dynamic way of existence: juggling with secrets among people who put their trust in him, in order to protect himself and those dear to him from his corrupt family. The trauma that he endures for millennia force him into wearing these many masks.

After his attempt to enter the rift between realities fails, his generals betray him. Most likely not the first time when people double-crossed him. The difference is that stakes are getting higher and higher, now that he has his own comet ore ships, and will continue to get higher as he’ll discover Oriande, all the more reasons for him to be extremely cautious.

But he’s used to traitors. As a matter of fact, when he wakes up, he says, with a bitter expression, “You plan to give me up. I understand, Zethrid. You do what you must, and I’ll do what I must.” This scene also foreshadows the larger breach of trust, between him and the Voltron team in S6.

Is he justified in keeping secrets from his team? Hell yes. The risk of losing Altea is so great that he has to.

—————————————

When Lotor flies too close to the sun (literally), his comet ore ship proves to be more resilient than Zarkon’s cruisers. As he dives deeper into the plasma, his expression - of desperate survival, of hate against his assailants - borders madness, resembling his turn in S6

Trauma and disintegration of his social connections, two major factors in describing a madness arc, converge right in this chapter.

If trauma from the past is not enough, being hunted by his own father is another straw atop the camel’s back. Not the last one, though. Not yet. More potent factors need to converge, to throw him off the cliff, as we’ll see.

By witnessing him completely alone, we also get a glimpse into his true character.

The moment he learns about the imminent explosion of the Naxzela planet, Lotor heads right into the heart of danger. Why would someone who, all this life, fought for his own survival, fly directly into the range of a galactic ticking bomb?

Because this is how we learn who he truly is. Alone, no external influence or circumstance, no pretend smiles or smirks behind one’s back, he takes decisions based on his true moral compass. If he were the monster the story would seemingly lead us to believe in S6 and beyond, he’d run to cover his own skin. Instead, the worry across his expression reveals just that: genuine concern.

The same genuine concern sits atop his brows as he enters the battle scene, effectively disabling Haggar’s weapon. Finally, after a long string of tragic mishaps, he secures a win. A win which he wittily and swiftly takes advantage of: “Attention, Paladins of Voltron and rebel fighters, I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but… I think it is time we had a discussion.”

BECOMING VOLTRON’S FRIEND

With S5 come Lotor’s brightest and most glorious moments, and along with them, the complexity of his character further augments.

Before I begin, I can’t help posting a side-by-side Loki-Lotor screencap, because Lotor’s prison cell screams the same design concept and I love it, for many reasons.

Also, let’s not forget this sassy first portrait of Lotor as he begins his adventure alongside the Paladins:

His discussions with Allura and the Paladins while serving prison time in the castle provide us with new details about him, but also lead the viewer into a skewed picture of the events.

#LotorWasFramed, shared by many on social media at the time of S6 and beyond, including by some of the VLD cast members, hints precisely at this skewed view of Lotor:

Allura says to her friends, in S5E1 “The Prisoner”, “I’m still not comfortable with this. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Later in the episode, she reiterates, “I can’t stop thinking that we might be an unwitting part of a much larger ulterior motive.”

Yes, her intuition is right, there is a much larger ulterior motive, but what is the ulterior motive? Is it truly an evil plot?

Well, take Allura’s final words about Lotor, in S8E13 and there you have it, canon-compliant: “Lotor may have been misguided, but ultimately, he wanted to preserve life. Honor your son...”

Highly frowned upon by fans as a meager redemption, truly lacking the complexity that should have reflected the richness of his character, it is, nevertheless, an exoneration, stating in clear that his ultimate goal was to preserve life - and to be more precise, Altean life, the Altean colony. We have to honor his work, because, ultimately, even though his methods didn’t feel right to Allura, even if his methods obscured ulterior motives, those motives were righteous. And Allura’s final statement is canon - one cannot deny that. The end justified the means - it truly fits into how he operated, and we can see why he had to operate that way - not only because he didn’t know of another method, but because the social and political circumstances forced him to.

So, armed with this information, we begin to see how his “ulterior motive” is plotted. He reveals to the Voltron team that his goal is to enter the rift to get quintessence, to flood the empire with a fuel currently deemed a luxury, to effectively “drop the price of oil”. A paradigm shift, a new dawn for the old empire. No more need for blood in order to obtain quintessence. A peaceful era for everyone. And he doesn’t lie. This is his intention. But not a complete picture of it.

What he doesn’t reveal is his precious Altean colony, the one that he hopes to finally be able to release from hiding, once peace has been established within the empire. In a future dialogue, he will state precisely that: “I’ve dedicated my life to preserving Altean culture. Now that we’ve unlocked the quintessence field, all of your people, who would have been hunted long ago, had it not been for my intervention, can live in peace.” Can we blame him for not revealing this to the team? Absolutely not. Knowing that Haggar can plant spies in the most inconspicuous locations, Lotor is constantly on the watch, protecting at all cost what is dearest to him - Mother Altea. And wasn’t he right? There was a mole in the Voltron team: Shiro’s clone.

————————————-

Returning to the scenes with imprisoned Lotor, let’s tap into some subtle psychological hints at his traumatic past.

When Allura calls him “the leader of the most bloodthirsty race of murderers this universe has ever known,” his reply does not arrive in anger, but with a surprisingly calm and pacifying tone, as he continues to sit down: “Can people not change? Is it so hard to believe that I wish to return the Galra empire to a bygone era of peace?” This is not the first time his mixed lineage has been the subject of spiteful remarks. For ten thousand years, he must have constantly heard the “half-breed” denigratory comments. Why would an Altean comment about his Galran blood strike him differently? He surely has grown thick skin by now.

But if these words don’t pierce the thick skin, this comment surely does: “Sounds like you are your father’s son,” says Allura with enmity, after he explains that his sole purpose has been to enter the rift.

This. This hurts. His weak spot. To have him compared with the tyrant who terrorized him for his entire life, what a blasphemy! He snapped at Haggar when she dared utter such words, and he snaps again now.

He stands up, aggravation in his expression, tone raised at Allura, attacking her with a similar family comparison: “It was your father who led the scientific exploration that discovered quintessence. An exploration, I might add, that resulted in the creation of Voltron. This isn’t a zero-sum game. Meeting the needs of the Galra empire means bringing peace to the universe. That is the future enlightenment brings us, one of prosperity for all. […] All I ask is to be judged by my actions, rather than your preconceptions of my race. If that is beyond you, then perhaps you should just finish me and get it over with. Clearly, Princess, you are not ready to end this war.”

This is obviously a subject of deep pain for him, and we don’t need any clarification as to why.

How painful?

World-shattering painful.

Maddeningly hurtful.

At this point Allura is someone he just met. He takes it personally when she compares him with Zarkon. What will happen when he’ll fall in love with her and then she’ll… revisit the same comparison?

Let’s refocus on his conversations with Allura and the Paladins:

Notice how skilled he is in dodging their questions regarding his ploys.

He admits to being “a bit duplicitous”, framing it as a means to a higher purpose - which is not a lie.

He’s not afraid to defend his political beliefs, and even fight back, ending his speech with a comment that emphasizes the maturity of his agenda, while pointing out her inexperience: “Clearly, Princess, you are not ready to end this war.” He does have a ten thousand year advantage over her, that’s a fact. (I also found it quite amusing that the very next scene depicts Allura being nervous about her lines when addressing the Coalition, while Lance advises her to… jot notes down on her palm, because… he does it all the time. Talk about inexperience!)

————————————

While the plot revolving around saving Commander Holt still holds a degree of uncertainty whether Lotor and Acxa were working together, it does seem plausible that Acxa acted in line with his interests, offering Holt to Zarkon, so that Lotor could have his one-on-one battle with his father.

Lotor attempting to convince the Paladins not to hand him over to Zarkon shows once more his tactical skills. He plants the idea of a “royal alliance” into Allura’s head (to Lance’s vocal dismay), and, perhaps due to his attraction to her, or simply as an intent to charm her, he goes as far as saying “You and I”. There is clearly chemistry between them from the start, and it’s savory to watch it unfold. Even as enemies, Allura watches him speak with mesmerized attention, absorbing his every word, and I believe it does not go unnoticed by him, which explains why he brings his focus on the unity aspect, stroking her ego with comments about their parents’ glorious past. His speech is so convincing that Allura already ponders on the “royal alliance” possibility.

The fight between Zarkon and his son is another source of precious details about Lotor. Now is the time for Lotor to speak his mind. When Zarkon calls him “weak” and “darkest shame”, Lotor doesn’t flinch. He’s grown thick skin for such insults. No longer the helpless child, Lotor sees the corrupt Zarkon exactly for who he is, and in this final moment between them, he points out all his weaknesses, especially his obsession for getting back the Black Lion.

The fight, spectacular (and magnificently rendered through animation), displays Lotor’s talent in evading direct blows and his keen eye for his opponent’s weak spots.

I found it so significant that Lotor kills his father not with a bayard, not with a sword, but with a shard of metal lying around on the ground. His desperate yell - “No!” - seeing as Zarkon points his deadly weapon at the Lions, proves once more his genuine concern for the Paladins. He kills his father to protect his allies.

His immediate facial expression is not of joy, not of jubilation, but of deep grief. I’m reiterating this: he does not take pleasure in killing, even his worst enemies. A positive trait that seems to contradict his portrayal after S6, which ties back to the #LotorWasFramed point that I made earlier.

The symbolism of the post-battle imagery conveys the suffering on his expression. As the light, emblematic of the new era that is to come for Lotor, crosses his face, we see the traumatic burden of his past, a burden he carries forward. Even if he killed his own father, the act itself does not erase the multi-millennial painful past.

And we continue to see that trauma etched into his expression on many occasions, including this scene, in the “Postmortem” episode.

When Allura asks him, “Are you alright?” his dry answer reflects the emptiness inside him, “I’ll be fine.” Someone who wants to bury their pain would resort to similar affirmations. I’m fine. Or… Everything is fine. Or… I’ll be fine.

No, sir, you’re not fine, you won’t be fine until you address that deep level of trauma.

Instead, Lotor pushes forward, because his work is not done. In fact, he’s just beginning.

First, he must take the throne as legitimate emperor.

Then, all his attention will focus on finding a way to obtain quintessence from the rift.

And lastly, his dream of freeing Altea would come to life.

Only after that, he can, maybe, maybe, relax (does an emperor of such a vast and violent empire ever relax?).

—————————————

So let’s begin with Kral Zera. Firstly, Lotor has to convince the Paladins to fly him into the danger zone, and the only one who stands by his side is Shiro, whose tactical experience aligns with his. The tension that ensues among the Paladins makes Shiro walk out of the room, while Lotor casts a regretful look in his trail. He clearly doesn’t enjoy being a source of discord among the Paladins.

So here it is: his genuine desire for peace and amity. Which lines up with his statements about bringing peace to the empire. And we see it once more as he comments about the Galra forces fighting amongst each other at Kral Zera: “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I knew they would all turn on each other.”

This is the true Lotor, underneath the many layers and facades he wears around everyone.

But he is also the wily prince who sneaks out of the castle behind Allura’s back, along with Shiro and the Black Lion. Also, the way he spins the narrative in front of the Galra, boasting about returning the Black Lion to the empire? Genius.

When Haggar insults him about his Altean lineage, he dismisses her with a few words, but we can see the aggravation in his narrowing eyes. Drop by drop, all these upsets and tribulations add up to his already heavy mental anguish that he carried across the eons.

The clash between him and Sendak puts emphasis once more on his fearlessness and deft swordsmanship.

The lighting of the flame carries a solemn, uplifting, yet tragic air to it.

He ascends the battered, collapsing steps of the Kral Zera, perhaps the steps of his destiny, while explosions flare up the skies. He takes the throne of an empire in complete disarray. While he lights the flame, he harbors a stark, but also angry expression, because… why should he be joyful? He’s taking reign over a civilization that has perpetuated his traumas for so long.

———-

S5E5 “Bloodlines” provides a respite from all the anguish we’ve seen so far. He spends time with Allura, searching for Altean clues in Haggar’s lair, and we see the growing attraction between them bloom.

But watch for hints about his past traumas.

When Allura discovers that he is half-Altean, we get Lotor’s direct depiction of his status in the eyes of Galra, as well as his self-confidence in regards to his mixed genes: “It was something the Galra considered a weakness, but I considered it a strength.”

Also, his next words reveal his deep admiration for his mother. He venerates her, and he adores the Altean culture. As much as I want to emphasize the level of trauma that this man has gone through, I also want to bring under spotlight his awe for the mother he never knew, and by extension, of the entire Altean race. Pay attention: “The union between Zarkon and Honerva sparked a technological revolution within the empire. Even back then, Altean culture was remarkably advanced. The kinds of experiments she was conducting… she advanced science by eons.”

Something that always caught my eye was Honerva’s science log itself. Lotor scrolls through her research and we can clearly see the comet ore in one of them, a sphere in another and… the entity inside the tube in a third slider. It’s clearly the entity, compare it with the original image from S3E7:

The fact that Lotor casts a long look at the slides makes me think that he might be aware of the entity. Perhaps this science log will make him understand even more about it?

When Lotor makes a few comments, frowning while inspecting his mother’s science logs, we conclude a few aspects about him and his mother. “By the end of these logs, it’s like they’re written by a different person. She’s frantic, paranoid, erratic. Her reason and intellect are gone, replaced by fear and paranoia.”

This confirms exactly what happened to Honerva (and foreshadows what will happen to him as well). Due to her obsession for power and knowledge and enhanced by excessive quintessence demanded by the entity inside her, Honerva lost her reason, became… a different person. Does that not resonate with how Lotor underwent an apparent abrupt change in S6? The comparison might come across as superficial, but I promise I’ll go deeper when discussing the S6 scenes.

Also, this reveals a much deeper truth about Lotor. He is in denial about what happened to his mother. Pay attention to the scene where Allura suggests that Honerva might have turned into Haggar.

“That witch is not my mother!” snaps Lotor, taking Allura by surprise. Not only he raises his voice at the princess, but he instantly turns his back on her, leading to an awkward moment. I found this instance extremely telling. Suggesting to Lotor that his mother turned into a witch?? Unconceivable!

I’m reiterating this: he ADORES his mother, and he adores Altea. He wants to protect his mother’s image as much as he wants to protect his Altean colony, at all cost. Even if that means keeping the colony a secret from Allura - the princess of ancient Altea - who slowly conquers his heart. Was there a conflict inside him about this? I’m absolutely sure there was.

Another relevant aspect about Lotor is that he’s an Altean culture nerd. Especially the alchemy part. He’s been hunting high and low for Oriande, because his sharp intelligence guided him in the right direction. And with a bit of persistence, he guides Allura in the right direction, too. Together, they unlock the compass stone, and, despite the Paladins’ and Coran’s doubts, Lotor convinces them to “navigate by cave poetry”, eventually discovering Oriande.

—————————————

Lotor has Altean marks? The Marks of the Chosen, no less. I love the attention to the shape of the marks, too. Uncorrupted Alteans display half-moon marks, while Haggar’s look completely distorted, like scars dragging across her face. In between them is… Lotor. His marks are neither half-moons, nor disfigured shapes. Daywalker?

In any case, the fact that he is accepted in the realm of Oriande clearly means that he has potential for alchemic powers.

Even in the celestial beauty of such a place, his mind flies into dark corners, recalling the destruction of Ven’tar’s planet. This should tell you how deep his wounds go, and how desperately they need healing. With such unspeakable beauty around him, his miserable expression only underscores the level of internal trauma.

“You know, I envy you growing up with King Alfor. I always wanted to be an explorer and learn about the universe. My father was only interested in conquering it. He once put me in charge of a planet for a year, running the quintessence mining and getting to know the local population. Rather than employ the usual Galran methods of subjugation, I worked alongside the leadership of the planet, learning their customs. We would only extract as much quintessence as could be replenished. And I enjoyed my time there quite a bit. When my father found out what was happening, he ordered me to destroy the planet. I refused, and he sent me away.”

“At least you stood up for those people,” replies Allura.

“He destroyed them all. I was powerless to stop him. I spent the following centuries searching for clues about my Altean heritage, another culture destroyed by Zarkon.”

“I’m glad you’re here to help me now. I never would’ve gotten here without you,” Allura smiles back.

Notice how Allura brings lightheartedness into the conversation, always aiming his attention to the full side of the glass. When he turns around to face her, this is one of his most iconic, beautiful, gentle, hopeful, yet heartbreaking expression in the entire series:

Allura infuses him with optimism, like no one else did before. She is the soothing salve over his old wounds, arriving into his life to open up a bright future. Oriande awaits them, the future awaits them. Hope and love bloom in his heart, and you can read it on his face, overlayed with the fatigue lines etched under his eyes. I know I’ve said this before, but I’m absolutely in love with Studio Mir’s clean drawing style, yet capable of rendering a vast array of emotions with just a few pen strokes.

Inside the pyramid, Lotor makes a few remarks, which reflect his curiosity but also his relative lack of instincts about what to do next. He relies on logic and educated guesses.

“The mysteries we seek are hidden somewhere deep inside.”

“We may yet to prove that we’re worthy to be here.”

“There must be a clue. Something a trained Altean would recognize.”

Similarly, when the Sages attack, his training guides him to apply known and well-rehearsed battle tactics - he’s ducking away from their spears. Allura has the presence of mind to pull out the compass stone, addressing them reverently, and Lotor - behind her - instantly mimics her gestures. Yes, he’s a fast learner, but it’s a bit too late for learning. The trial time is near.

The trial itself provides us with a head-to-head comparison between his tactics and Allura’s. They each apply themselves according to their upbringing, and therein lies the tragedy of his failure.

When he finds himself alone in the celestial domain, what do we see first, glowing in his enlarged eyes?

Fear.

He gasps as he opens his eyes, looks around warily, then calls for her, “Allura?” Without her, he is insecure, because he is not prepared for this; it’s a kind of trial he’d never attended before. (He aced the Galran Agotian trials, yet he clearly struggles here).

Of course calling out for her suggests he might also be worried about her, but I believe - from the hints given so far from their adventure inside the pyramid - that he is genuinely lacking confidence. He even stated so, as they began their journey: “None of my research or travels have prepared me for this. From here, we are on our own.”

And what do Galrans do when faced with their own fears?

Victory or death.

“I will never yield! I will gain your secrets!”

Here, I read pride, anger, determination, unwillingness to give in.

He doesn’t even consider another method; the emotional domino of fear-aggression is ingrained into who he is, from a young age. And in the end… his own aggression is his undoing.

If you take a look at Allura’s demeanor, she does not gasp in fear as she takes in her surroundings. She does not call for Lotor.

“I do not wish to fight. I come here seeking knowledge,” she addresses the White Lion.

“What can I do?” she continues, humbly.

“No. This isn’t the way. I seek the secret of life. I give my own.”

Notice the requirements of an Altean trial:

humbleness in the face of unknown;

non-aggression;

willingness for self-sacrifice.

Lotor, unfortunately, does not display any of these.

In the meditation practice, there is one particular method that helps ease anxiety, worries and fear of unknown. It involves staying with your own emotions, allowing them to unfold, simply noticing and embracing them. Fear becomes a friend which does not need to be battled, but acknowledged.

What Allura did was to basically embrace her fear of the White Lion, to allow the fear to manifest, and in doing so, she conquered it.

Conversely, by fighting with your own emotions, you only prolong your agony.

When the Life Giver tells Allura, “You are home, and the secret is already within you,” we finally understand why Allura passed this trial, and why Lotor failed. If the secret is already within her, she instinctively directs her actions according to the ancient practices and wisdom of Altea, where she grew up. At Oriande she is home.

On the other hand, Lotor is hard-wired into the victory or death philosophy, which guides fear in the opposite direction, that of aggression. At this time, Oriande is not his home, unfortunately. He yells, “No. No!” realizing his failure. It’s a cry of desperation, he’s angry with himself for his defeat.

It’s ironic though: he knows that aggression is not the way, yet he himself cannot overcome it. It’s also paradoxical, because he is searching for ways to bring peace to the universe. He preaches peace and prosperity, but he lacks the deeper understanding of how to fully achieve it. Living in such a hostile environment for millennia, we cannot but recognize that this is the way the environment shaped him. Nature versus nurture, exactly the words of one of the EP’s. Also, from the same interview: “It was a very bad hand. That deck was stacked against him in every way in his upbringing. If he had this amazing accepting family that Allura had, he probably would have been a magnificent person. He had to live his life the only way he could, and a lot of that was through manipulation and doing things the only way he could get them done. It’s tragic.” (Source: Den of Geek - The Ultimate Downfall of Lotor, June 28, 2018 - link in comments)

Despite his defeat, I found it admirable that he does not bear jealousy on Allura, honestly acknowledging her magical powers: “You are a true Altean alchemist. Oriande was for you, not for me.”

One thing I’m wondering though: did Lotor ever learn anything from his defeat? He is a fast learner, so how did he internalize this event? I’m sure Allura recounted to him how she came to pass the trial, so did he ever put the pieces together, to figure out where he went wrong?

————————————

After Oriande, Season 6 warms us up to his character even more. The encounter with Dayak in S6E1 provides us with precious comic moments that further humanize his character. Suddenly, he is not the stiff emperor with a royal demeanor and parlance, but the teenager who’s embarrassed about his mom, while trying to look cool around his buddies, which subsequently suggests that he cares about his relationship with the Paladins, also proven by the way he introduces them to Dayak: “These are my colleagues. They have more than my permission to speak.”

In addition, their dynamic gives us a moment to ponder on the type of Galran education he received. Now that we are fresh from the Oriande experience, learning how Lotor grew up - under the constant threat of the whipping pain - provides a better perspective into the kind of cards life handed him.

In the same time, let’s not vilify all his upbringing. As a prince, Dayak offered him the highest kind of education one could receive: “The history of our conquests, our customs, battle philosophy, the art of war.” Yes, they are all veered towards war-related matters, but those are subjects of vital importance to any nation, even in times of peace. The end of S8 will have Allura basically learn to navigate this dark side, guided by ghost!Lotor and the entity. As much as Lotor needs to learn from Allura, she also needs to understand and absorb his wisdom.

If one needs a summary of Lotor’s past, find it right within Lotor’s speech, broadcast across his empire: “Slayer of a tyrant, child raised in the void and taught on the battlefield.”

From the conversation between Lt. Lahn and Commander Bogh, it’s clear that Lotor’s dream of peace is too abstract for his subjects. There are prejudices against him that are hard to tame. Lotor is well aware of them; even his empyreal address reflects this issue.

But one particular conversation raised a red flag to me. At the news of Sendak’s attack on a mining planet, the Paladins offer their immediate assistance. Lotor says, “Sendak would have me respond to his attack and neglect my empire.”

Allura replies with determination, “Voltron can handle this, while you continue to rule.”

Lotor insists, “But Princess, I need you here. Without you—”

“Your plan has waited this long. It can wait a tick longer. We must protect your innocent subjects,” says Allura.

“Of course. You’re right,” Lotor acquiesces in Allura’s decision.

This, right here, introduces a major hint at a future reveal. Is Lotor going to allow an entire mining colony to perish under Sendak’s attack? (“sacrifice a few…” - rings any bell?) When Allura emphasizes “innocent subjects”, I read frustration, impatience… and something more on his expression. He’s obviously annoyed that his plans are being delayed. As he told Allura, “it is paramount” that they focus all their energy on infusing his ships with alchemy. He’s getting so close to his dream, and now Sendak comes to derail him.

This askance look suggests he is hiding something. And we read a conflict within him, in the way he presses his eyelids closed under a slight frown, then reopens them into a forced-amiable expression.

There are many ways to interpret his internal conflict:

which innocent subjects should he focus on first? The Alteans - his most precious people - with whom he hasn’t been in contact for a while, or the mining colony attacked by Sendak? What if the Altean colony is in danger of peril as well, and he’s tied up with empyreal matters?

maybe he is simply embarrassed that he let a “little” mischief slip past his mask? He’s never been put in a situation like this, working alongside honest, compassionate people, who care for the lives of others. Not that he doesn’t care overall - on the contrary, all he does is because he desperately wants to pacify the empire and ultimately free his Altean colony, but the way he goes about it requires cutting some… corners; translation - sacrifices.

maybe time is of essence; perhaps he knows things we don’t know about his colonies (there are many unresolved things about the Altean colony plot, so here I can only speculate).

all of the above?

In any case, this little detail adds an extra tint of gray to his character.

—————-------

S6E2 and E3 elevate the relationship between Lotor and Allura to a level of trust and fondness for each other that we haven’t seen them develop for others. Lotor genuinely loves Allura, something confirmed in interviews with EP’s. He is not simply using her for his secret agenda. What is blooming between them is real, and you can see it in the way he behaves around her, the gentle hand touches, the almost-kiss interrupted by the Paladins, their discussions while working on his ships, his excitement to share the “grand news” about the progress he makes on his Sincline. Allura is beginning to be the soul-healer of his past traumas; his optimism is soaring. He is able to relax more around her, as he truly trusts her.

————------------

S6E4 (“The Colony”) begins with Lotor, facing his Sincline ship, ready for the trip to the rift, telling Allura: “I’ve waited an eternity for this. […] It means so much to me to share this with you.”

The moment of his life. He’s waited for this for thousands of years. Thousands. Not decades, not centuries. The anticipation, the emotion, it must be like nothing he ever felt.

I loved the reference to the DotU little technical terms, as they prepare for the trip of a lifetime: “Infracells up. Dynotherms connected. Mega-thrusters are go.” It gives their relationship even more meaning and legitimacy in the audience’s eyes.

Pay attention to the comments the Paladins make, as Lotor and Allura enter the rift:

Lance: “Last time anyone got in there, it turned Zarkon evil.”

Shiro: “Zarkon fell prey to his own evil instincts. The quintessence field didn’t create them. It revealed them.”

I’ve used Shiro’s comment in the analysis of Honerva and Zarkon’s arcs as well, but the fact that the writers chose to insert it right before Lotor’s trip to the rift is a clear enough hint (albeit “evil” and “instincts” have nuances, just like Lotor’s numerous character shades).

When they enter the rift, there is a moment where Lotor’s eyes narrow a bit…

That, right there, is Lotor’s cunning expression he often displayed in the episodes before befriending the Paladins. It clearly points out to us that there is more going on in his mind.

An evil plot? This would be the immediate thought, right? Especially immediately after Shiro mentioning “evil instincts”.

Or maybe it isn’t an evil plot, but its execution is… less clean (“Lotor may have been misguided, but ultimately, he wanted to preserve life”). Hence, the evil-looking smirk. #LotorWasFramed?

“What we do here today will change the course of the universe forever,” says Lotor, while measuring the energy readings inside the rift.

Allura ponders over the quintessence effects, “In the hands of the wrong person, this power could easily corrupt.”

“Together, we’ll see it never does and continue the work your father started so long ago,” Lotor replies.

Two things:

Another warning: Quintessence in the hands of the wrong person…

“Together”: Yes, if they split up, things will go sideways.

“I can feel the quintessence coursing through me,” says Lotor euphorically, as they travel through the rift.

Allura, ecstatically sighing, replies, “It’s like my spirit, my whole being, is more alive.”

Quintessence is the space-drug of the series, it’s no doubt about that, even the EP’s have made the comparison. A double-edged sword, capable of conferring supernatural abilities and sensations, yet destructive enough to turn you into a Zarkon.

Not only Lotor is feeling its effects, Allura does too. Keep this in mind as I’ll discuss upcoming events.

For the first time in eons, his stars are aligned in the best possible way. They “accomplished something amazing” - entering the rift and collecting quintessence. He has the most powerful princess in the universe by his side, the gifted alchemist he so sorely needed for millennia. His plan is coming along fabulously.

But I think the most amazing accomplishment is that they finally confirm their feelings. The kiss happens. The bond that forms in their hearts is a potential catalyst for extraordinary changes, within themselves and to the universe around them. Double, triple euphoria for him.

-------------------------

Can this man’s life turn any more tragic?

The moment of… (alleged) truth happens. The moment we find out, through Romelle’s story, that Lotor has been harvesting Alteans for their quintessence, for generations. The conclusion of her accusations is that he has been draining the Alteans for his own power and glory.

(Notice the general expression of guilt: self-hugging, chin dropped to the chest, peeking from underneath his frowned eyebrows)

DESCENT INTO MADNESS

Let’s see, from Lotor’s perspective, what shocking events he goes through, to understand the underlying cause of his mental breakdown in S6E6.

1. Physical rejection by the woman he fell in love with.

Right after the high of their kiss and their rift breakthrough, he finds himself at gunpoint, accused of mass murder.

In reply to their accusations, Lotor says, “You know nothing about what you speak. […] Allura, listen to me. I’ve dedicated my life to preserving Altean culture. Now that we’ve unlocked the quintessence field, all of your people, who would have been hunted down long ago had it not been for my intervention, can live in peace. Were some lives lost in the process? Yes. But they were martyrs to a noble cause. I sacrificed a few to preserve the future for millions. Allura, do not let this ruin everything we’ve worked for. Think of what we experienced in the quintessence field.”

From what he says, we can deduce exactly what I’ve pieced together so far: that he was deeply preoccupied with preserving the Altean life and culture - he “dedicated” his life to it. This was his purpose in life, it was what he cared most about, and every action, every little or grand mischief that we’ve seen so far along the seasons, they all point to one sole purpose: pacifying the universe so he could bring his Alteans out of their hideout, so they can “live in peace”. They were his Mother Altea - metaphorically, the mother he never had.

His explanation is vague enough that we don’t understand some essential aspects about the “martyrs”, but also, his approach to Allura, right after such horrifying news, touching her hand while reminding her of what they “experienced” in the rift, obviously rubs her the wrong way.

Fresh from the rift with a dose of ultra-pure emotional enhancer called quintessence, Allura reacts violently, without seeking more answers. From here, things quickly roll downhill.

2. Being taken hostage.

3. Facing the truth about his mother, Haggar/Honerva.

For some reason, this event in his life never seems to be a subject of much discussion. I believe this holds a large role in his traumatic rollercoaster before the battle with Allura. The discussion with Honerva reveals the fact that he is still in denial about his mother’s downfall. His fists tremble in anger - another sign of emotional gravity.

According to him, his mother “ceased to exist when Honerva drew her last breath”, while Haggar represents an “abomination”, “a twisted perversion of what was once so pure and beautiful”. If you want a little Transactional Analysis (TA) parallel, this is exactly Child-Lotor from the other reality, saying: “No. My mother is dead. And you cannot replace her!”

What I find even more dramatic is that his entire life he’s been compensating for his lack of maternal love by completely immersing himself into the Altean culture, while his biological mother did everything to thwart his efforts to connect with his maternal legacy.

This is a huge blow to his internal set of values, and the fact that he reacts with total denial suggests (again, applying TA) that, with his fears confirmed, Child-Lotor feels cornered, afraid, trapped, thus his reaction of rejection towards her.

Bear this in mind, because I believe at the core of Lotor’s tragic turn in this episode resides a wounded Child.

4. Attempting to fix it, under pressure.

He is being punched from ALL directions.

Yet he persists.

His urgent priority? Finding Allura.

Even though Acxa explains that it will take a while to get back to the castle of Lions, he replies: “Then what are we waiting for?” I read desperation, a rush to try to fix things.

Although Allura tossed him to the ground, he holds no grudge against her.

Why does he return to her?

Why not the colony?

After all, it was his most precious planet in the universe! Oh, but this is not a tactical decision… It clearly stems from his emotions - he will soon confess it as well - because he truly loves Allura.

The fear of losing her is greater than his fear for the colony. Now that the secret is out, now that he knows that clone-Shiro was Haggar’s spy, it must be clear to him that his colony is completely exposed. The Altean civilization that he worked so hard to protect from the evils of his parents is inches away from being overtaken by Haggar, yet he flies right back to Allura! How telling!

Oh, but the way the story frames it leads us to believe that he wants to get back to the rift due to his greed for more power, because that was Allura’s conclusion about why he was returning: “He needs to get back into the quintessence field.”

No he does not. His Sincline can jump in and out of the rift at his own will, so he can access the rift from anywhere. He explicitly said to his generals that, “We’re headed to the Castle of Lions’ last known location.” (S6E5) He’s not headed to the rift, he is headed towards ALLURA.

“Accessing the quintessence field has been Lotor’s singular drive for millennia. He wants to harness the power for himself, but we cannot let him,” says Allura in S6E6. Wrong. What did he just explain to her earlier? “Now that we’ve unlocked the quintessence field, all of your people, who would have been hunted down long ago had it not been for my intervention, can live in peace.” Accessing the quintessence field does not reflect his final goal, it is a means to a higher purpose: freeing the Alteans.

5. The fallout. The dam-breaking moment.

Let me start by saying that Lotor is generally a calm and composed character - a mask he has built into his persona and practiced it for millennia, because he needs to display confidence, not weakness, around both his subjects and his enemies. It is the way of the Galra. Also, the attribute of a leader.

That doesn’t mean he does not show moments of panic or outbursts of anger. On the contrary, we witnessed them along the episodes: when killing Narti, when flying into the solar flares, the moment he kills Zarkon, when snapping at Allura… These little slips hint at the true emotions roiling underneath his mask. Most of us understand this mechanism; think of school exams and how anxious we felt inside, despite displaying a relatively calm expression while entering the test room.

Given the extraordinary tension of the negative events that befall right after his most triumphant moments, what are the odds that behind this façade, Lotor’s anxiety is at an all-time high? The fact that he does not show it yet doesn’t mean it’s not there. But we’ll begin to see it, as soon as he starts talking to Allura.

En route to Allura, Lotor tells his generals: “Zethrid, Ezor, my deepest apologies for lying to you both, but in order to gain the princess’ trust, and make the Paladins of Voltron believe we were truly at odds, it had to be done. […] Today we will gain access to unlimited quintessence, and together, we usher in a new era of power.”

Did he just slip back under another one of his facades? Did he truly trick Allura and the Paladins? Perhaps yes, but not in the way we are led to believe.

What he says is true - he did have to pretend to be at odds with Zethrid and Ezor in order to gain the Paladins’ trust. Imagine the chaos (not that we wouldn’t have enjoyed it) these ladies would have brought to team Voltron. Would Lotor risk his reputation with such “scoundrels” around the innocent Paladins? I mean… Zethrid replies, “As long as I get to blow something up, I’m good.” That wouldn’t fly with Allura.

Lotor basically gave each side what they expected to hear, while he pushed forward with his agenda. In order to gain Ezor and Zethrid’s trust again, he had to explain himself, and he doesn’t really lie, does he?

But what’s up with ushering “a new era of power”? Hehe, this is where we all get tricked into thinking he wants all the power of the quintessence for his own glory, thus we’re mentally confirming what Allura just said: “He wants to harness the power for himself.” Wrong again, and I’ll link this up to his next statements.

After the Paladins destroy the inter-reality gate, they ready themselves for a confrontation. They expect Lotor to come with guns blazing. Hunk even calculates the odds of three Sincline ships to four Lions. Lance, the team lead in Keith’s absence, orders: “Hold your positions. Let Lotor make the first move.”

Well, Lotor’s first move, even after seeing the gate destroyed, is to seek peace. He does not lie in any of his statements; these all tie in together with what he’s been saying so far. “We need not fight today. We are all on the same side. I know what you all must think of me now that you know my past. It doesn’t have to change our future together. The truth is, I want to harness the power of the quintessence field to better the universe, just like I said. Nothing has changed.”

Allura, raising her voice, replies, “You enslaved countless Alteans. Harnessed their life source for your own personal gain. How many innocent lives did you destroy?”

Lotor calmly attempts to explain: “Allura, I—”

“How many?” she roars back, without allowing him to finish.

(What was he going to say? He was clearly going to divulge exactly the key detail we are missing from the colony story, but Allura, whose temper is out of control, diverts the subject.)

After a deep breath under closed eyes, Lotor replies, “It’s true. Many Alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of quintessence. But I protected thousands more, and I rescued their culture, our culture.”

Comparing Allura and Lotor’s demeanor, it’s clear that Allura is the fire-starter. Not without reason though; from her perspective, one of a victim of mass-destruction, she has every right to be mad, and we, the viewers, sympathize with her.

On the other hand, Lotor seems to keep it together. He truly loves her, otherwise he wouldn’t try so hard for a peaceful solution. Even Zethrid asks, confused: “Why is he pleading with the Paladins? Why are we not opening fire?”

Ezor says, cynically, “I stopped trying to figure out Lotor’s master plan long ago. Too complicated!”

The only one who seems to comprehend what’s going on in Lotor’s heart is Acxa, who casts a worried glance towards him. Worrisome indeed, because heartbreaks are most terrifying, if things go out of control.

“Allura, you must understand I’ve given everything I have to plumb the depths of King Alfor’s knowledge, to unlock the mysteries of Oriande. Please, Allura, we’ve come too far together. Surely, you can see the greatness we’ve already accomplished. There’s still more to come. Join me. We’re on the same side.”

“No, we’re not!!” Allura screams at the top of her lungs, blasting her Lion’s canon at him.

Notice, Allura fires the first shot. Lotor, in response, yells at his generals: “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Acxa is sweating in tension - because she intuits how bad this could go. Zethrid is frustrated, while Ezor looks completely confused.

Lotor, keeping it together with his last emotional energy, is desperately trying to reach Allura. His voice trembles from the emotion, from the utter despair and anguish. His pupils have narrowed, eyes wide open. He sees his most precious relationship falling apart, he’s clinging to a last thread of hope. Allura is the one true love he met after ten thousand years of traumas and the most gifted alchemist. He has given everything he had to arrive here.

Altea awaits them. Together they could bring their people out of the shadows, they could rule a New Altea, “a new era of power” as he told his generals.

“Allura, stop! You and I hold the ancient knowledge of our Altean culture. We were meant to be together. My feelings for you are true - and I know you have feelings for me as well.”

Cry as many rivers you need to, because this is the most tragic declaration of love.

Lotor, right here, wears his heart on his sleeve in front of everyone to see. Vulnerable, open-hearted, sincere - perhaps the most sincere declaration of his entire life, he opens himself up to Allura, he puts his trust in her, with all his wounds and unresolved traumas of the past.

Remember the “I’ll be fine” reply after defeating his father? No, he is not fine, his wounds have never healed.

This is why Allura’s reply falls like a guillotine on his already ravaged soul.

“You betrayed and used me. You’re more like Zarkon than I could have ever imagined!”

Comparing him with Zarkon? The one man who destroyed his life, who terrorized him for eons? We’ve seen his irked reaction to this comparison in the past, but now? Now the emotions are at all-time high. His bleeding heart is out for her to see, and she slays it, full-force.

Every trauma from his past converges here. This is the boiling point, the dam-breaking moment. This is where his hope dies. The moment of agency. (As I said in the beginning, at the critical point of the madness arc, whatever breaks the dam is a world-shattering event: extreme grief, total loss of loved ones, closest allies and friends, the breach of trust towards the world, or a combination of these. The character will try to fix the world and/or get back at the ones who hurt him.)

The shrilling noises of the soundtrack make us cringe, like we could feel the shiver that runs down his spine as his heart suddenly grows cold. He replies with a stark voice. “What about your father? He may have been a master engineer, but Alfor was too weak to defend his home world. I’m the one who had to step up and save our entire race. Who are you to question my tactics in bringing peace and prosperity to the universe?”

Remember his similar reply when he was a prisoner in her castle? It’s his gut reaction to a most sensitive subject: his father. She wants to talk family? He’s punching back with brutal opinions on Alfor, because at this point he desires nothing more but for her to feel the same kind of pain.

“Who are you…?” She’s a stranger. Someone who doesn’t have a place in his heart anymore.

“Destroy the Lions,” he orders his generals over a cold expression. He’s made his choice.

Hell breaks loose.

If you think that the negative effects of the rift trip applied only to Lotor, let me put this in perspective:

Allura is equally overloaded with adrenalin. And from the battle scene, we can see that she is the one attacking him first, her roar as loud as her Lion’s. As the fight continues, Lotor perfectly executes evasive maneuvers around her, continuing to keep a blank expression, until… he erupts, like a volcano of unresolved, under-pressure turmoil:

“Once I wipe out Voltron, I’m going to start a new Altea. An Altea that will never know of Princess Allura or King Alfor. Nor will they know of the Lions of Voltron. All they’ll know is me, their great leader! Hahaha, I’m ready to wipe the universe clean of all my enemies. Voltron, Haggar, and the rest of the Galra!”

Here’s where many of us got him wrong, thinking that this has been Lotor’s real intention from the get-go: to destroy Voltron and rule a new empire for his own glory.

The only way I can properly explain this is through the psychological mechanisms - not only what goes on in Lotor’s mind, but in our mind as well.

1. Let’s start with us. The script so far played to convince us that Lotor planned this evil plot all along. How did we get tricked? Through all the little hints dropped along the way, which I already pointed out. Our knee-jerk reaction naturally ensues as “A-ha, I told you so.” However, many of us began to have doubts.

2. Shifting the focus back on Lotor, here’s what I said right after the scene with the destruction of Ven’tar’s planet: “after Zarkon destroyed his heart, Lotor ran straight into the arms of Mother Altea”.

I remember, earliest childhood memories, that if I was mad at my dad, I would run to my mom. If I was upset on both of them, I’d cry for my grandparents. It’s only natural that the child seeks love, affection, protection, and as we grow older, that Child within us, with all its basic emotions and needs, continues to coexist underneath our Adult.

The bigger the wounds of the past, the larger the needs of the inner Child.

What happens when the Child within us loses all emotional contacts, all the love and support it sorely needs? When all our friends and allies are gone, when we lose contact with reality, when the closest friend and lover stabs us in our deepest wounds… where do we go from there?

Where did the wounded, cornered Child-Lotor escape, away from the cruel reality around him?

What was his last refuge? His last place where he he would always be received with unquestioning devotion by the masses?

ALTEA.

The Alteans praised him as a god, a messiah, their savior. His statue dominated their landscape.

Altea was his life-long project, the only heritage from his real mother, the place where he poured all his passion (“I’ve dedicated my life to preserving the Altean culture.”). Until he met Allura, that had been his only source of love and joy.

Altea was the family he never had.

Who we see here, screaming and kicking, is the wounded, cornered inner Child, irrational, filled with pure negative emotions. There is no reasonable Adult in the picture, no normative Parent, just pure madness. Fear leads to aggression (the Galra way), similar to his reaction of slaying the Lion at Oriande. He screams about becoming the great leader of a new Altea that will never know of Allura, Voltron, Alfor, etc, because ALTEA IS HIS LAST PLACE OF REFUGE, where he hopes to forget about this painful past. Child-Lotor is hurt, deeply hurt, he wants destroy all who wounded him, then run away into the arms of Mother Altea. He descends into madness with guns blazing, ready to get back at those who hurt him, and in an ultimate irrational cry, he includes the Galra in his list of mortal enemies, because they, too, hurt him when he was a child.

He bitterly comments: “Even my generals betray me!” A self-fulfilling prophecy, as he becomes disconnected from literally everyone.

Acxa yells “Lotor, don’t do this!” as he ejects them one by one from the ships. She knows what he’s about to do - form the Sincline robot, because she worked on building the ships. She knows how powerful it can become and realizes how far Lotor is gone.

Sprinkle quintessence atop the irrational, negative emotions and the cocktail for disaster is right there.

Quintessence “reveals evil instincts” indeed, because

negative emotions are evil,

and emotions are instinctual (the definition of emotion is “a natural instinctive state of mind deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others”).

Allura recognizes it during their battle inside the rift, when the Paladins begin to drift into rage. “We have to get out of here,” she yells. “This is exactly what happened to Zarkon. Exposure to all this quintessence turned him into a monster!”

—> So, did Lotor harbor “evil instincts” all this time? Well, we all carry negative emotions. The Paladins did too, when they screamed “Let’s destroy that guy!”, “Finish him!”, except that Allura pulled the plug before they could all become corrupted (the best way to prevent drug dependence is to not get exposed in the first place).

—> Does this confirm that he’s been planning this plot all along, that he truly wanted to become the all-powerful, “great leader” of a new Altea that would obliterate Alfor’s legacy? ABSOLUTELY NOT. It only proves that what happened to Lotor was a tragic descent into madness, a resultant of unresolved mental illness accumulated along the millennia, enhanced by a series of misfortunate events and misunderstandings between him and team Voltron, and blown out of proportions by quintessence (and maybe the little entity inside him, too).

After S6 dropped, viewers were complaining that they did not recognize this Lotor, that this was a different person. Well, remember what he said about his mother, when inspecting her science log? “By the end of these logs, it’s like they’re written by a different person. She’s frantic, paranoid, erratic. Her reason and intellect are gone, replaced by fear and paranoia.”

Voilà.

So then, what did Lotor want when he was in his right mind?

Exactly what he said: to bring Altea out of the shadows, into a universe free of violence. Bonus: having Allura with him meant that together, they made sure the quintessence never got into the wrong hands (idealistic, I know, but the man had a dream). Ruling alongside Allura, the “royal alliance”, would have been his most blissful destiny.

Did he plan on destroying all the Galra? I don’t believe so, because he told Allura that he wanted to “meet the needs of the Galra”.

Maybe get rid of some inconvenient warlords? For sure, they’d all rot with the ice worms.

Maybe install an Altean leadership instead? “A new era of power?” It’s quite possible that might have been in the back of his mind. Who knows, maybe it would have turned just like the alternate reality where the Paladins traveled, where the enemies of Altea were turned into “non-cogs”. Anything is possible, we’d have to ask the writers what they had in mind.

Did he dream of becoming the “great leader”? Maybe not in a megalomaniac way, but he probably envisioned himself as a benevolent emperor, since he had a huge need for validation and love. His giant statue is a testament to that.

Did he want all the power for himself? No. All evidence points to the fact that he was willing to share it with Allura (“royal alliance”), with Voltron, with the Coalition. He even tells them, through boiling wrath: “It didn’t have to end like this.”

Some voices insist that Lotor could have told Allura (at least Allura, not the others) about his secret colonies, but because he was hiding that, it meant that he was hiding evil intents. No, he couldn’t tell anyone, his hands were tied because of Haggar stalking him. When Allura was piloting Voltron, her mind was connected with the rest of the Paladins. If Haggar had access to clone-Shiro’s mind, what would prevent her from tapping into the others’ minds?

“Now we will see how Alfor’s legacy stands against the new Altean defender!” screams Lotor during his clash against Voltron.

Altean… DEFENDER? I know this is irrational Lotor talking, but maybe this had been his plan all along? To create defenders for Altea, machines capable of fending off Galra invaders? If this is what his second colony was all about, then Allura’s visions in S8 also make sense - her mother telling her about protecting Altea against the Galra. Speculating.

As the battle heats up, Sincline jumps in and out of the quintessence field at will. Along with that, we begin to see him turn more and more rogue, as the quintessence gradually poisons him.

“Unlimited power is mine. All realities will fall to the new Altean Empire.”

A new Altea, a new Altean defender, and now… a new Altean Empire. At the peak of his madness, new delusions of grandeur emerge - yes, now he wants unlimited power - but perhaps we can also take a little peek into his secret wishes? He’d dream of replacing the Galra ruling with an Altean leadership? It would make sense, since he loved Altea so much.

These are 100% madness tantrums: if nobody loves me, I’ll destroy all of you and rebuild my own world.

It very much resembles Honerva’s peak of madness: “If I cannot experience the simple joys of life, why should anyone else?” (Translation: If nobody gives me what I want, then screw you all.)

-----------------------------

We know the rest of Lotor’s arc, or what remains of it. Left in the quintessence field, then recovered by his mother in S8E6 “Genesis”, and, for the following episodes, Sincline is dangled in front of the audience like a carrot, only to wave goodbye to his ghost in the end, with a short “he deserved better” conclusion. Oh, let’s not forget about the cOrPse.

—————————————

Earlier I talked about the “alleged truth” that Romelle brought to the story, because up to this date we don’t know exactly the entire backstory of the colony, yet…

A. We were told all along the remaining of S6, entire S7 and almost all S8 that Lotor was

“a monster” (Romelle, S6E4),

“a murderer” (Pidge, S6E4),

someone who “fooled” everyone around him for his own power (Allura, S6E6),

who harnessed the Alteans’ life source for his “own personal gain” (Allura, S6E6),

a man who “preached unity, but in the end he only sought power” (Acxa, S7E3),

who “used” his allies, leading them down “a painful path, a never-ending cycle of destruction and loss” (Acxa, S8E5)

B. Out of nowhere, Allura exonerates him in the last episode of the series, asking Honerva to “honor” her son: “Lotor may have been misguided, but ultimately, he wanted to preserve life.”

So which one is it: A or B?

You don’t suddenly honor someone after you called them “murderer”, power-seeking “monster”, unless… something of extraordinary importance has been unveiled, to properly provide an exoneration of his character.

Was it ever unveiled? No.

Then, rational deduction… #LotorWasFramed?

I think so.

It started as writers’ deliberate story framing (proof provided in my above analysis), leading the audience to believe in a “he-was-evil-all-along” nature of Lotor, with the clear expectation of a much larger reveal later down the series, that would subvert the “villain” trope. In my opinion - based on logical deductions and supported by evidence of altered animation circulating in the fandom extensively, the big reveal was excised from S8, the only clues left residing in… metaphors and visions - Allura’s visions.

Reason of such excision? Just like the tragedy of Lotor’s arc, the tragedy of VLD lied in the conflict between the IP owner’s commercial target (toys for boys aged 6-12 and robot cartoons with classic, simple tropes such as good vs. evil, boy-hero gets the pretty girl, etc) and the actual execution of the story, which deployed complex characters like Lotor, Allura, Honerva, the Paladins, and so on, embraced by a different audience niche. Yet, even if the finale of S8 attempted to erase such complexity in order to realign the series with the aforementioned commercial intent, the creators nevertheless managed to insert their concluding message into the final episode - Lotor ultimately wanted to preserve life - thus, he deserved better.

———————————————

Season 8, although I consider it incomplete in regards to Lotor’s arc (and other arcs as well), does provide us with some interesting hints at what could have been, if the story hadn’t been altered, which would have further elucidated Lotor’s overall arc, because these hints contribute to showing us his true nature.

—> In S8E6 “Genesis”, Sincline has the target locked onto Allura, yet it does not open fire. We clearly see through Lotor’s eyes, as he readies his aim.

There is no doubt that a sentient soul coordinates the decision not to shoot. This reminds me of Zarkon’s singular confession to his son: “She was my only weakness.” Similarly, Allura is Lotor’s only weakness.

This scene begs a series of logical questions (*cough*, I love logic): if a sentient being operates Sincline, how can Lotor be dead? A dead man cannot operate Sincline.

If Honerva uses the entity to remote-control her living subjects and she also remote-controls Sincline, then logic would suggest that… a living subject, infected with the entity, inhabits the cockpit. Not a corpse.

Honerva tells Allura: “I am the only thing keeping my son at bay.” Um, she can’t really keep a dead son at bay, can she?

If he’s alive, then why are we shown the suggestion of a corpse, in S8E10? Or was it another altered scene? NB: static images are easy to redraw.

Also, motes of purple quintessence effuse from the “corpse”. We’ve seen these before, with Zarkon and Honerva right after coming back from the rift.

If the assumptions above are correct, then this scene would further align with what I have said in my previous metas regarding Zarkon and Honerva: the entity’s takeover happens as a gradual progression towards complete disconnect from self. At this point in the story, Lotor would be at the far end of the madness spectrum, completely possessed by the entity and overloaded with quintessence. This would create a coherent story, paralleling those of Zarkon and Honerva.

This theory about Lotor having the entity would also justify the next point:

—> Allura’s visions in S8E8 are a rich source of information.

Just like Honerva can telepathically connect with her subjects via the entity, if Lotor has the entity and he has a strong attachment to Allura, then he is telepathically causing her dream.

Since what Lotor tells Allura about the entity turns out to be true, why wouldn’t the other elements of her dream be true, too? (“nothing ever truly goes extinct” = he’s not really dead; “we both seek to destroy Haggar” = Lotor has been fighting Haggar all along; he’s showing her how to fight Haggar, because that’s how he did it in the past - and that can be seen as an explanation for his second colony, because it clearly implies that sacrifices have been made).

If Allura’s dream provides an allegory to Lotor’s second colony, it would justify the meaning of Lotor’s words: “they were martyrs to a noble cause.”

Also, this statement would provide backup: “Many Alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of quintessence. But I protected thousands more…” If he was looking for a way to use the entity and the quintessence to defend his colony against the Galra, then he was definitely on a quest to unlock their mysteries, to protect the thousands more.

In this context, the heist of the teludav lens in S3E6 has a justification, as he may have intended to use Alteans to operate it, in another one of his “quests”.

Although the origin of the clandestine, pure white vats of quintessence was never fully explained (the quintessence allegedly extracted from the second colony Alteans actually looked quite purple), the story made it clear that Lotor was using the ultra-pure variety to infuse at least his Sincline ships with it. If he calls his Sincline the new Altean Defender, perhaps he tested other vehicles as well, using that pure white quintessence?

These would all tie together his arc, and the last statement of the story would make absolute sense: “ultimately, he wanted to preserve life.”

—> Aside from these remarks, there are many other metaphorical takes to Allura’s vision.

Ghost!Lotor visiting Allura in her bedroom immediately sent my thoughts to a folklore myth that is common to many cultures, from South America to Africa, to Northern and Eastern Europe and beyond. The “incubus” is a demon or a soul that visits sleeping women, in some traditions thought to be a man who was rejected during his lifetime by a woman, seeking to get back to his lost love. A symbol of unrequited love, erotic temptations or female desires, the incubus bears many names, according to each folklore. “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” says Ghost!Lotor, perhaps reading her mind?

“The ancients believed that all of life began with a single juniberry flower.” Foreshadowing the last episode’s rebirth of the universe, perhaps Lotor was supposed to accompany her in the grand restoration?

————————————

Even without S8, my point is that Lotor’s story followed a madness arc, slowly evolving along his multi-millennial life, and subtly hinted at throughout the show. Despite arriving at the same level of insanity as his parents, the reasons for his downfall were truly tragic, and, had the last season been allowed to develop as intended by the writers, Lotor would have been vindicated through a fully-fledged arc, just like his parents - thus, he deserved better and, in my opinion, the writers deserved better. The proof is in the details, and I’ve zoomed in quite a bit during this analysis. VLD gave us an amazing show with complex characters and most inspiring animation art.

This is probably my last meta on VLD. Going forward, I’ll focus more on the bright side of things: fan art and fanfics. See you on the other side! 😘

[maraudersmary]

LILY EVANS BIRTHDAY MY BEST GIRL <3

here’s some of my favourite headcanons in honour of my favourite aquarius !!

short, like 5’3, extremely long, flowing, auburn hair, lots of freckles, plus-size, was insecure of her looks and body until she met the girls and they helped her realise her beauty

70s flower power girl at heart: flared or bell bottom jeans, flowy tops with sleeves that widen and low necklines, a LOT of necklaces, not afraid to mismatch gold and silver (both enhance her eyes and hair), mary-janes her go to shoe

forced all the girls to listen to ABBA, fully converted Mary and Alice, and although marlene pretends, she knows she loves the too. she’s still working on dorcas and emmeline…

dated mary from 3rd to 5th year. they both realised they were bi at the same time and their young hearts thought that meant they were meant to be. still remained best friends after the mutual breakup

after severus started bullying Mary, she dropped him instantly (idc that that’s not canon)

best at charms in the year (as well as a few other subjects that sirius didn’t take) but was lauded for her charm work

thought james only said he liked her as a joke, but after he toned his confessions down and started being genuinely kind to her when no one else was around she began to see that might not be the truth

was conflicted in her feelings for james at first, trying desperately to find reasons to not like him, until eventually marlene sat her down and gave her tough love about how she deserves to be happy

has bipolar disorder (diagnosed at 14) but is very on top of her medication and is not ashamed

however she is worried about how being in a relationship with james will impact her and whether he will accept that part of her, especially in times when she is not doing well

but of course he did, it’s james potter, and whether manic or depressive he was unfailingly there

she trained as a healer (doctor in muggle au), before specialising in psychiatric medicine and therapy

remus is her best friend, and they spend as much time as possible together. he is her safe haven. he just understands her like no one else, and she him. he also has the best weed

i’m a lily evans stoner truther

bakes when stressed, her specialty is anything apple based

her favourite shows were ever after high and my little pony (modern au) when she was younger and still watches them when she needs comfort

bonded with sirius over sibling trauma, she thought he was an arrogant prat at first but quickly formed an unbreakable bond with him. he was her brother.

loved her parents and knew they loved her, but she felt stifled in that house and hated the way they pandered to petunia. going to hogwarts probably saved her life

she has a massive crush on sophie thatcher and the girls found it hilarious because of how much she looks like marlene

knew everyone’s secrets (probably before they knew them themselves) and despite being a massive gossip, she never shared anything about anyone that was not public knowledge

when angry everyone knew to steer clear, except remus, he would calm her down just by walking into a room, and would then take her for a walk to vent to him before smoking a joint together

after the war ended and they all SURVIVED, she and james adopted two more children and raised them with the children of remus and sirius, and mary and emmeline, with marlene and dorcas being the super cool fun aunts

i love her i love her i love her

[snarryauctoberfest]

Snarry AUctoberfest: Day 8

Title: Flutter

Creator: ???

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Prompt: 2024-76 Apartment Life Harry's been warned to steer clear of the 24th floor. Curiosity got the better of him and Harry checks it out. Its deserted except for apartment 2444. Harry notices signs of life—a faint light under the door, soft sounds of movement.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 30.2k

Warnings/Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Maggie Stiefvater/ Shudder Inspired, Alternative Universe Muggles, But there is a curse, Birds, Growing up with a single parent, Time Skips, canon age gap, Poetry, Angst, Hopeful, Ravens, Birds mentioned, lots of birds, Apartment Life, First Time, Grumpy Character Meets Sunshine, Slice of Life, different kind of magic, mentions of abuse, Grief, flight or fight, To be a lover you have to be a fighter, Keanue Reeves Said, Some characters are aged differently than in canon, Because I wanted to include them, just go with it, Battling shame, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, pent up anger

Summary: He said uselessly, "Sev, don't go."

"I'm s-sorry-" Harry cupped Severus' face and gazed into his eyes. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, sad, raven, mine.

"These stay the same," Severus said. "Remember that when you look at me. Remember, it's me.”

Flutter does my heart, When you ask me to stay. I want to live in the moment But the past keeps me a prey.

💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

2024 Snarry AUctoberfest Entries || HOS Tumblr || Discord

[skaruresonic]

I dont think its healthy to paint every person who likes Sonic idw or is a fan of idw as someone who bullies you or is part of the same group that bullies you and friends. Because you know that's not the case. You and crusher never deserve to deal with harassement. Fuck those bullies. You both deserve better.

But everyone can tell you dont call out other people for saying horrible things to other people who didn't bully anyone at all but just like idk, like Ian flynn ? It makes it look like you only think bullying is bad if it happens to you or your friends but not to strangers who don't deserve it. Some 17 year old girl who likes Flynn work and praises Whisper doesn't deserve to be called names, she's not the same person bullying you or Crusher. You get what I mean?

You're right, it isn't fair. I know it's not. Yet my heart says that when hundreds of people agree with posts painting you as stupid and evil, that you're a toxic influence, when people stalk you only for the larger space to say "you deserve it," they might not be worth taking into consideration anymore.

It is really difficult not to have what is essentially a trauma reaction when I'm being chided for the upteemth time for my mutuals' behavior. I blink and suddenly the anons are there again; suddenly I'm breaking down sobbing again; suddenly I'm transported back in time to instances where friends admit how suicidal they are over this stuff. It's not something I can shut off like a faucet.

I'm not saying that controlling that gut reaction should be the responsibility of others, but I am saying that it is difficult. I'm trying to remain as objective as possible under those circumstances, even if I am caustic in how I phrase things. But sometimes I slip up, and it feels unfair to be chided for slipping up. Like, sometimes I legitimately get flashbacks over this stuff. I would think you would empathize since Whisper goes through the same thing.

Obviously I would never harass someone for merely liking IDW, which should be abundantly clear by the fact that I, for the most part, steer clear of every other Sonic fan. On the occasion that I do, I try to word things as neutrally as possible so as not to offend.

...But it also honestly feels like every time I ask a question or add commentary and it's not phrased in the most inoffensive manner possible, it's taken as harassment on my part. Which is an emotionally precarious place to live.

Is it harassment if they throw the first punch? Not sure.

---

It makes it look like you only think bullying is bad if it happens to you or your friends but not to strangers who don't deserve it. Some 17 year old girl who likes Flynn work and praises Whisper doesn't deserve to be called names, she's not the same person bullying you or Crusher. You get what I mean?

You missed the time I castigated people for making fun of a 17-year-old fan.

I know they're not the same people, but the limbic system doesn't distinguish.

What is your goal when you tell me these things? Because honestly, I feel like I've done everything within my power to stay inside my lane.

Unless you mean I ought to police my friends' behavior. I'm not going to do that. No, not even if they're being bullies. It's not my place. They're adults, they have agency. Their words are their own.

I don't tag my posts because people have said they don't want to encounter them. I don't send asks or PM people. I maintain a strict no-contact policy with IDW staff. I honestly don't know what more I can do. If you want me to stop posting Twitter screenshots, then I'll stop. But that's about all I can control.

[snek-eyes]

Hello! What do you mean that Crowley is cold in the flashback with Job? Like, in a mean way? I always found he acts a little cool and demonic to keep up the charade knowing him acting demonic and uncaring will better veil the fact that he didn't kill the goats and doesn't intend to harm the kids since we know he'll be in big trouble if anyone finds out. And he knows everything will be fine, and that the kids won't get hurt and that the animals are safe as well so I figure that's a big factor in him seeming so cool/lacking compassion in the scene with Sitis. It reminded me a little of the scene in S1 where he turns the paintball guns into real ones and acts all cool and careless about it until begrudgingly admitting that nobody gets shot 🤔

Oh! And I forgot to add: the cool, rather uncaring demeanour Crowley has with Sitis is the same he first has with Aziraphale when he "kills" the goats and when he tells him he longs to destroy Job's blameless children. Until he realizes Aziraphale isn't on Heaven's side with this. Anyways, sorry for the ramble and I love reading your meta!

(re: this post)

Hi there! Never any need to apologize for rambling to me, discussions like this are fun, and you are drawing some very good points. And it gives me an excuse to put more thought into this!

To clarify, by "cold" I'm not saying Crowley's being mean, but he's definitely not being nice. Crowley is a "kind but not nice" big picture kinda guy, and he's got a lot of plates to be juggling here.

This is the one real time we see Crowley "at work." Like you said, acting as a demon. But not the bwahaha type of demon Aziraphale keeps bringing up with his 'avaunt!' and 'I bring a warning!' over-the-top angel shtick.

Crowley's got a wall up, by necessity. He comes across sort of... aloof and impatient, verging on condescending at points. He's steering this interaction by his plan and can't be stopped by how these people are suffering in the meantime.

And yet he's doing all he is with Job's family because he cares. Crowley thinks it's not fair that Job's being put through this, that God still has Sitis's faith even now. How much of that is the specific situation in front of him, and how much is him projecting his own trauma isn't exactly clear and I think kind of irrelevant. They're both at play. Crowley I'm sure would love to pretend he doesn't care about either.

But these humans are simultaneously A) in his way and B) not at fault. Crowley is a big picture guy: He does his best work on a large scale, he's fond of humans in general but they're often too much for him one on one. He'll support sacrificing one life to save the whole world (And yet, he won't personally pull the trigger) (But he will get frustrated when Aziraphale won't either)

Basically, Crowley can be frustrated by individuals enough to not be comforting while they're upset, to turn them into newts, etc. while also able to see on the broader scale that being annoying to him personally isn't reason enough to deserve truly awful things. Also there's some element of not wanting to let himself get attached because if he cares he will care.

That's a fascinating character trait, especially when you contrast him with Aziraphale who also has a big heart, but often gets distracted by that big picture of how things Should be.

I have more to say about your second message, because I actually think there's an important difference in his attitude with Sitis & Job vs how he's confronting Aziraphale there. But I've been turning this part over for long enough, so I'll release it into the wild.

[coldresolve]

I’m sorry if this comes off as ignorant, that is not my intention.

What is torture apologia? I haven’t been able to find a specific definition and it’s confusing for me. What does it look like in regard to the whump community? On top of that, what are some ways to avoid this in writing?

If you don’t want to type out a response to this, how can this be researched? You make some good points in your post about it, and I want to make sure my own writing isn’t based on stereotypes and misinformation about the subject. I am very, very new to the “whump” community, so I don’t fully understand the ways that torture apologia might be displayed in some of the popular writings.

Thank you for your time, and I apologize if this comes off as ignorant or confrontational.

hey no worries, youre not gonna offend me by asking a clarifying question. what pisses me off are the people who flat out dismiss everything i have to say without actually engaging with it. youre nowhere close to that lmao i promise

uh. i use the sexual assault r-word a bit here, because i just came up with a good rule of thumb that requires drawing similarities between torture and r-word, so. trigger warning if you dont wanna read that

there is no real definition of torture apologia out there, but i treat it in the same way i would rape apologism. and i actually think theres real worth in keeping with that similarity, because rape is considered a form of torture. so like. yeah

id go as far as to say you can switch out "torture" with "rape" in your story to see if the logic holds up, if you might be saying something you don't want to say. for example, "my hero tortures the bad guy, and this is framed as a form of vigilante justice", swapped with rape, uh, might not exactly be the sorta message you would want to send lol. your hero can torture the bad guy ofc, im not saying they can't, but you better be ready to grapple with the full fucking depth of morality of a situation like that

off the top of my head, things i'd steer clear of:

anything that implies that torture is useful for any purpose. torture just traumatizes people, that's about it, and it's dangerous to spread ideas about whatever imagined utility, because your average person has zero grasp on basic ethics - this is what turns your "useful" torture into "sometimes justified". a third of people globally believe torture can be justified "in some cases". like i can't stress how real this issue is

torture works as an interrogation method or as a way to obtain false/forced confessions (useful)

torture can be used to make someone obedient (useful)

torture can be used to change people's beliefs (useful)

torture can be used to brainwash people/control them (useful)

stockholm syndrome through torture is included in ^ (useful and also just. ehh)

any variant of the ticking time bomb scenario (useful + justification)

torture being portrayed as "scientific"; torturers being "experts" in the "skill" or "art" of torture (implies utility)

when the bad guy does it, it's torture; when the good guy does it, it's vigilante justice (justification)

there's a handful of ideas people use a lot in fiction that i wouldn't necessarily categorize as apologia, but which do still send a message you maybe should think twice about sending. torture victims/survivors being "broken", they'll never be able to live full, happy lives, etc. and there's also this idea that torture only negatively affects the person who is being tortured. i especially think showing the effects torture has on perpetrators is worthwhile, but that might just me having a weird fascination with perpetrator trauma. torture also tends to fuck up the organizations that use it, so

[steddielations]

I'm not looking to start The Discourse so if you don't feel like answering this I'd totally understand, but I'm really glad to know I'm not the only one who feels like I'm losing it when I see people complain about how supposedly Eddie focused everything. I struggle to believe how these people can be serious about this. almost every fic ever in some way involves Eddie being a bad or downright terrible bf and it's always so OOC because people like to make Steve really angsty. Or the ones that really get me are the ones where Wayne's relationship with STEVE is focused on more than Wayne and Eddie. Half the time it reads like a small but loud chunk steddie of fandom don't even really like Eddie, he's just there out of convenience. I do understand the appeal of that for people who really love Steve but like, it shouldn't come at the expense of Eddie as character. Some of these fics you could easily replace him with other characters and it'd make no difference to the fic. Like I said, totally understand if you don't feel like answering this, I genuinely don't mean to be bitchy cause I don't like yucking peoples yums, but it did feel like I was in the twilight zone for a while seeing people's complaining, so I just wanted to have a little rant 😭

I’m glad to know someone has had the same experience as me! Like I’m not trying to dissuade people from writing Steve centric stuff or even complain, but truly I don’t understand when people say steddie fics are majority Eddie centric. I filtered this down to just the steddie ao3 fics but it’s not even close

And these are just the ones that are tagged. Personally I consider a fic to be Steve centric just based on if it has majority Steve focused tags, like Steve has bad parents, Steve needs a hug, hurt Steve, stuff like that and then it doesn't have any Eddie focused tags. Which is majority of Steddie fics and again I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that's how it is. Also on tumblr, in my experience, I'd say 8 times out of 10 when I come across a steddie fic it's Steve centric. I only notice because I look for Eddie centric stuff personally because there's such a lack of it. That's also why I started to pretty much write only Eddie centric stuff too. But I'm also careful not to erase Steve's trauma or demote him to the stand in perfect boyfriend or erase Robin's role in his life and replace her with Eddie, but I can't say the same with the way majority of Steve centric fics treat Eddie's character.

I think having an issue with the way Steve and Eddie are most often characterized in Steddie fics is a different conversation. I'll be honest, most of what I come across in my opinion is the writer projecting onto Steve and then Eddie's either the perfect boyfriend who talks like a therapist and has a magical healing cock, or he's the worst person in the world just to manufacture Steve angst. I have some major gripes about fanon Steve and fanon Eddie too, I have to steer clear of a lot of fics and keep my mouth shut to avoid discourse. Not saying I have perfect characterization or anything, but I definitely go against a lot of fanon popular stuff. I understand that some people hate popular fanon Eddie (so do I usually lmao) but its clear that it's being projected onto canon Eddie too. I see a lot of Eddie hate from people that ship steddie and that's fine, I'm so used to seeing Eddie hate it doesn't even faze me anymore, but I don't understand how you fixate on a ship that you hate an entire half of.

I'm glad you brought up the Wayne thing because that bothers me so much, I've spoken to a friend who noticed this too. To be clear, I love Wayne and Steve fics, I've written Wayne and Steve fics, but there's a difference when it's a fic about Wayne and Steve developing a familial relationship and when the whole purpose of the fic is Wayne growing closer to Steve than Eddie, choosing Steve over Eddie, loving Steve more than Eddie, etc. Especially when the fic has Eddie as a neglect/abuse survivor, honestly I just think it's weird to write a story where a neglect/abuse survivor's only caretaker is choosing someone else over him, and it's supposed to be a good happy thing? Also when the writer has clear disdain toward Eddie, Idk, maybe take your Eddie-hating lens off for a second and get some perspective on what you're writing. And the crazy thing is, those types of fics are usually received really well. I don't know, it's just not for me.

Anyway, this is the most discourse-y I've ever been on my blog lmao. I'm just at the point where I don't care anymore, everyone's voicing their opinions so I'll voice mine too. Thank you for sending me this, I'm glad I'm not alone in feeling this way!!