#delving into his trauma is interesting so I did it

[iamumbra195]

No Winter Lasts Forever

Teenage Mercenary Fanfic

Read on Ao3

The hazy memory of a woman smiling made his head throb and– Two shots rang in the air and their bodies crumpled to the ground before him, crimson bleeding into a blanket of pure white snow. His grip on his rifle trembled from the cold, something terrible and acrid bubbling in his throat the longer he stared at the lifeless figures before him.

OR

Ijin's relationship with snow, messed up memories, and a family that is trying their best.

The bonds of those within the camp were born of violence and blood, clawing each other apart with bared teeth and broken fingernails as they fought to survive. Like a pack of animals, they would yield to the strongest but their keen gaze always followed him, zeroing in on his faults and waiting for a chance to sink their teeth in.

The numbers weren’t quite the same. They were taught to conceal their bloodied hands and bared teeth, to reshape their desperate brutality into ruthless efficiency.

Ijin had been young, younger than nearly everyone in that camp and perhaps that’s why he took to it like a fish in the water. His body adapted to his circumstance and even if he had been physically weaker than the others at the start he learned to make up for it by capitalizing on the things he was good at.

He couldn’t recall how many had been there when the camp first began but he remembered the growing pile of bodies and the smell of rot that clogged up his senses until he had grown so accustomed to it that it no longer affected him. He remembered the blood that splattered and dried on his face each time he managed to eliminate yet another faceless opponent. 

And then the numbers had formed– forty that had managed to endure that hellish training, if it could even be called that. 

It was different.

There had been mercy there– in 005’s jaded green eyes, in 002’s unsolicited training that allowed him to survive against the toughest of opponents and slowly climb his way to the top of the pack. 

He had become their unofficial leader until that order had come in and he stared into the frightened gaze of that mother as she hovered over her daughter protectively, finger frozen over the trigger.

The hazy memory of a woman smiling made his head throb and–

Two shots rang in the air and their bodies crumpled to the ground before him, crimson bleeding into a blanket of pure white snow. 

His grip on his rifle trembled from the cold, something terrible and acrid bubbling in his throat the longer he stared at the lifeless figures before him. 

A voice commanded him to return and he blinked, the terrain before him transforming into a familiar enclosure, the only confirmation that he had been there, that it had been real was the speck of rust on his clothing and the lingering cold beneath his skin.

The memory of his return to the camp was covered in a film of red, his body moving on honed instinct as he cut through flesh and shattered bone, incapacitating his fellow numbers as his mind whispered a mantra of alivealivealiveALIVE–

The only thing that remained clear and unblemished about that night was the feeling of his dagger slicing through Mad Dog’s flesh and the gratifying howl of pain he had let out, clutching at his wounded eye as blood sprayed from the wound. 

Ijin had never relished in the pain of others but the toxic anger that boiled within him at the thought of that man was more than enough to break through the apathy he’d operated on for years.

He could hardly remember why that night had been his breaking point when he had killed countless others without batting but that woman…

He wondered if his parents had held him that way as they had crashed to their deaths ten years ago, terror shining in their eyes as they shielded him from inevitable death. 

He wondered if they would’ve been happy to know he had survived if they would’ve shed tears and wrapped him in a warm embrace the way his grandfather had when he first returned.

“Ijin?”

His sister’s voice broke through his musing and he blinked, tearing his gaze from the flakes of snow descending from the cloudy winter sky to look at Dayeon as she trotted towards him, bundled up in her jacket and shivering a little. He tucked his trembling hands into his pockets and smiled a little.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she said softly, eyebrows furrowing into a worried frown. “It’s really cold, you could get sick.”

Ijin shook his head. “It’s fine, I don’t get sick that easily. And I don’t want you walking by yourself so late.”

Perhaps his recent brush with Mad Dog and the camp played a part in his decision to walk his sister home for the past few days but Dayeon didn’t need to know that. He wanted to keep her separated from that part of his life even as his past as 001 clung to him dried mud.

Dayeon was silent for a few moments as they trudged through the thick layer of snow, tucking her chin into the warmth of her scarf before she glanced at him curiously. She always did that when she noted something strange about him but she usually kept quiet unless he prompted her.

“Do you want to stop at a convenience store and get some triangle kimbap? One of my friends said there were some new drink packets I wanted to try too,” she said instead, smiling at him expectantly before he nodded.

She spoke about school and her friends as they made their way over to the store and he listened quietly, the tremble in his hands lessening as he soaked in his sister’s warm presence.

The snow didn’t seem so cold anymore.

Ijin grabbed his usual tuna mayo kimbap and cup noodles while Dayeon chose the bulgogi kimbap and one of the overly sweet drinks Yeona was so fond of. She had teased him about being an old man when he made a face after trying one once, eyes sparkling with mirth and something that made him feel a little warm inside.

“Oh!” Dayeon yelped suddenly when they left the store and Ijin paused, muscles coiled with tension as his gaze flickered through the shadowed streets for any sign of unnatural movement before settling on his sister once more. 

“Grandpa said he has a surprise for you!” she gushed with a knowing glint in her eyes.

Ijin relaxed. He was too jumpy, making hasty, illogical assessments for threats that weren’t even present. 

“A surprise?” he repeated curiously.

Dayeon hummed in response, the corner of her eyes crinkling happily as they continued on their way home with a little bounce in her step. Ijin widened his stride to keep up with her, absently wondering what it could be.

They had already given him so much, accepting him despite his dubious past, buying new things for him when they didn’t need to, cooking for him and being so kind when he had been nothing more than a stranger to them.

Even if Grandpa never said it out loud, Ijin knew that his age was catching up to him but he worked so hard, providing for them even when Ijin’s pay from his bodyguard job was more than enough to provide for all three of them.

He wished he and Dayeon would rely on him a little more so he could repay their kindness in any way they could.

“We’re home!” 

A familiar rich aroma of chocolate wafted through the air as they stepped inside, a foggy memory niggling at the back of his mind curiously.

“In the kitchen!”

Nothing looked out of place when he went inside but that smell… he couldn’t help but feel like he knew it from somewhere. 

Grandpa sat at the table with a book and three steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with varying amounts of cream and marshmallows. Childishly, Ijin couldn’t help but grumble at the fact that he had used the tiny marshmallows rather than the bigger ones his mother–

He paused, bewildered at the strange thought and unable to remember the last time he had been anywhere near the drink. And since when did he care for the size of marshmallows? He didn’t even like sweets all that much, too used to bland rations or spicy foods to develop a taste for sugar.

His head throbbed all of a sudden, blood rushing in his ears as he massaged his temples.

“How was school?” his grandfather greeted warmly as they shrugged their jackets off and hung them in the closet and Ijin smiled despite himself.

“It was fine. There was a substitute teacher in my math class today, though.”

“Oh, me too,” Dayeon added. “Apparently, Mr. Hong’s wife is having a kid today. Everyone in the next class was talking about it because he suddenly left in the middle of class yesterday.”

“Oh, how nice,” Grandpa chuckled. “I remember how nervous your father was at first back then.”

It felt a little awkward to talk about his birth but it was rare that his grandfather spoke about his parents beyond little anecdotes here and there that allowed Ijin to create a vague image of what his parents were like in his mind.

“Anyways, Grandpa, you found it right?” Dayeon grinned.

“Found what?”

His grandfather rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, gesturing to the book. “It’s the family album. Dayeon and I sorted through all the photos I had saved of the family back when you first contacted us so we could help with your amnesia and you’d be more comfortable around us but we lost it when we moved into this apartment. I was sorting through some boxes and I found it buried under everything.”

Ijin could only stare, an onslaught of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher threatening to drown in a sea of jumbled up feelings and thoughts. He swallowed the knot lodged in his throat as he tried to figure out what to say.

Grandpa’s face softened in understanding as his silence stretched and Dayeon gently grabbed his wrist, urging him to the table and into a seat before settling down beside him. 

The smell of rich, hot chocolate was more profound than ever now and Ijin's hands wrapped around the warm ceramic mug in front of almost instinctively. His hands, he noted, were trembling again. 

There was an old fuzzy memory of a lullaby and a crackling fireplace, of falling snow and a crying little girl, of a soothing voice telling a story about the sun and the moon.

His head throbbed. 

“I– Pictures of me and… our parents?” he glanced at Dayeon uncertainly because even if they were technically his parents, he had no memory of them. She had been the one to lose them, to grieve the safety and security of their presence.

His grandfather nodded with a small, wistful smile. He slid the album towards Ijin with an encouraging expression but Ijin couldn’t help but hesitate. 

It would hurt to remember. He knew bits and pieces but never the full picture and he had grown used to that. As long his past didn’t affect his present, he was fine with laying it to rest and forgetting. 

He could hardly imagine himself with a family beyond Dayeon and Grandpa, young and bright-eyed the way all kids seemed to be. He wondered what sort of kid he had been. Did he play sports? Or video games? What was his favourite food? Did he and Dayeon get along?

Ijin opened the book.

The first photo was one of his parents' wedding. He recognized them from the few picture frames lying around the apartment but they were young, a couple of years older than him give or take. 

“You look just like your mother, you know that?” his grandfather said softly and yes, Ijin could see the resemblance. In her wavy gray hair and dark eyes, perhaps even her nose and the faint freckles that speckled her face. 

His father looked like Dayeon, with soft hazel eyes and neat brown hair. 

Their smiles were warm and vibrant, filled with so much love that it made Ijin feel hollow and cold in comparison. He wondered if anyone would look at him that way, to feel that sort of intimate emotion for him and he found himself pitying such a person. 

He would never be able to reciprocate it in the same way, never feel worthy of such emotion. Not when blood stained his hands and his sins weighed down on his every moment. He could pretend to be a normal, teenage boy all he wanted but he would never truly be that. 

There were many words that could be used to define him but normal had never been amongst them.

He wondered what his parents would think of him, what Dayeon and Grandpa would think of him if they knew the truth. He knew that logically, it wasn’t his fault. That he had done everything he could to survive those terrible days but….

The fluttering snow, the sobbing of a young girl, the terrified gaze of her mother, and the echoing crack of a gunshot. 

A warm hand covered his and Dayeon’s gaze was steady and reassuring when he looked at her, the tremors lessening as he tucked those dark thoughts away once more. 

They slowly flip through the book and Ijin watches himself grow from a wrinkly baby with a tuft of black to a young lively toddler with curly gray hair and a strange love for trains. Grandfather said he would listen to his dad– a railway engineer– ramble about the mechanics of trains until he fell asleep in place of a real bedtime story.

Dayeon appeared soon after that with a fluffy white kitten named Hia they had apparently grown up with. 

There were strangers in the photos as well; cousins, uncles, aunts with blond or gray hair and his grandfather revealed that their mother’s father was from Iceland. He wondered how many of them had grieved for him, if they even knew he was alive.

Ijin watched himself grow– his first steps, his first birthday party, his first day at school, his first fallen tooth– but the boy in the photos felt more like a stranger than anything. He looked just like him but that was where their similarities ended.

Ijin didn’t like stories or trains. He wasn’t the first in his class. He didn’t have a sweet tooth. He didn’t have parents to proudly show his accomplishments to with a wide, toothy grin. He didn’t have a crybaby sister who hid behind him when anything scared her. He didn’t catch beetles and fireflies during the summer because he thought they looked cool.

He barely knew what his own likes and dislikes were, indifferent to everything around him so long as the people he cared about were safe and comfortable.

Tearing his gaze away from photos as his grandfather’s words washed over him, he brought the untouched cup of hot chocolate to his lips and took a sip. It was too sweet, with melted cream and marshmallows only adding to the rich, chocolate flavour. 

But it was warm, spilling into a frozen hollow in his chest and filling it to the brim with a toasty sweetness that made his eyes burn with sudden emotion.

He blinked a few times when Dayeon giggled all of sudden, glancing at her and then his grandfather in confusion when he saw the laughter dancing in their eyes. His gaze settled on the album where a photo of him and Dayeon drinking cups of hot chocolate with a mound of cream and large marshmallows, cheeks stained a rosy red as they smiled into the camera.

Hot chocolate was smeared across the lining of his upper lip and he abruptly became conscious of the matching smear on his own face, heat rising in his cheeks as he hastily rubbed it away.

This action only seemed to make Dayeon giggle more.

“Do you like it?” Grandpa inquired when his sister’s laughter died down a bit, his eyes twinkling with melancholy as Ijin nodded hesitantly. 

“It’s sweet,” he uttered quietly. “I don’t really remember it but I… I think I used to like the bigger marshmallows?”

Grandpa chuckled. “You did. You’d eat them all before you even started your drink and then beg your mother for more. She only ever made it for you during the winter because you and Dayeon would go out and play in the snow nearly every evening. You loved the snow so much.”

Did he?

He picked the book up, skimming through a few pages in search of coming before he came to a stop and turned it towards the pair of siblings. It was a simple picture, blurred around the edges as if the person behind the camera wasn’t holding it steady. A younger Dayeon was wrapped in their mother’s arms, laughing as she rubbed snow into her hair. 

“You took this picture.”

His grandfather’s voice sounded strange, almost far away the longer Ijin stared into that photo, a faint ringing echoing in his ears.

His smiling mother, bundled in a warm jacket. 

That fearful woman, dressed in tattered clothing.

His laughing little sister, cheeks stained with a bright blush.

That sobbing little girl, red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears.

The click of a camera.

The explosive crack of a rifle.

Flakes of white fluttering to the ground and clumping together into a blanket of pure snow.

Red bleeding into white, a halo of blotchy crimson blood staining the snow.

The icy wind that bit into his skin and settled deep within his bones.

Something wet spilled from his eyes, running down his face and dripping onto the table. A knot formed in his stomach as he wiped the liquid away, pulling his hand back to examine it

Tears?

He stared at the clear liquid blankly and the knot in his stomach tightened, constricting to the point he felt he couldn’t breathe. 

“Ijin?”

There had been an order to kill them. His mother– no– and his sister– no, Dayeon is– and he’d killed them, hadn’t he? A shot to the head each and they had fallen over into the snowman they had built together, blood spilling from their wound– no!

His dad was screaming and fire crackled around them as 001– my name is– chased after him. His blade sliced through his flesh, blood spraying from the wound as he screamed with agony and–

“Ijin!”

A cold hand grasped his bicep and his skin burned at the sudden contact, twisting his body away and retreating to a corner of the room as blood roared in his ears and every breath felt as if someone was taking a sledgehammer to his chest. 

The absence of a weapon by his side left him feeling strange and off-kilter, like the creature born in that forest with broken nails and sharpened teeth scrambling to survive. He was vulnerable but his opponents were full of openings he could exploit– NO!

Opponents?

An elderly man and a young girl. The man is speaking but his words don’t register in Jin’s– Ijin, my name is– head. The girl is holding her wrist and blinking a lot– in pain?

Did he hurt her?

Panic sparked in his chest at the thought.

An elderly man and a young girl.

An elderly man and a young girl.

“Ijin! They found your family! You have a grandfather and a little sister!”

Major Kang. Korea. Grandpa. Dayeon. 

His parents had died in the plane crash. His sister was alive. There was no fire. No red snow. 

He hated the snow.

Inhale. Exhale.

The tension in his body slowly bled away as he fell out of the instinctual fighting stance he had taken. He closed his eyes, sucking in a shuddering breath as the fog of mismatched memories that had fallen over his mind lifted and his attention finally focused back on the present.

He could see the damage he had done now, in the pinched expression on Dayeon’s face and the protective manner in which she held her wrist. The mug of hot chocolate had been knocked over, the contents spilling across the table and dripping off the edge onto the floor. The chair he had previously occupied had toppled at some point during his panic.

“Ijin? Are you okay?” Grandpa said softly, painfully cautious as he called Ijin’s name.

This wasn’t right, his life before and now shouldn’t mix this way. He shouldn’t have tried to remember, he should’ve let it go. He could’ve hurt Dayeon and Grandpa– could’ve killed them.

He was compromised. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to croak before he was out the door, ignoring the man as he called his name. 

He hurt Dayeon.

He hurt his sister.

The thought made him sick to his stomach, something terrible and acrid curdling in his throat as he turned to take the stairs. Most of the residents in their building were elderly so they usually took the elevator. 

He needed the silence to collect himself. 

He needed to call Major Kang.

Ijin slowed to stop near the fourth floor, out of breath despite the fact that he had hardly strained himself. He simply breathed for a few minutes, focusing on every inhale and exhale the way he had taught himself to back at the camp.

He settled down on one of the steps, pulling his phone out and clicking Major’s contact. It rang once, twice before it clicked and the man answered.

“Hello?”

“Major Kang,” he greeted, closing his eyes as relief bubbled in his chest at the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Ijin? What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“I…” Ijin trailed off, unsure of how to begin, how to explain the sea of complex emotion he was suffocating under. But Major was always patient with him, he listened when Ijin tried to sort through his hazy memories and taught him things he’d never gotten to learn or experience as a child. 

So he explained the girl and her mother, the last two he had been ordered to kill as 001. He explained the snow and the blood, the fire and screams. He explained the photos and the hot chocolate. 

“I don’t know if I want to remember,” he finally whispered into the empty stairwell, his quiet words echoing faintly. 

“Ijin,” Major sighed softly. “Your family loves you. They don’t know everything but they love you, memories or not. They’ll still care for you when you make mistakes or you need help. You were a kid back then, and trying to remember those things now will hurt. I told you back then, didn’t I? Take it slow and don’t be so hard on yourself.”

His nails dug into his palm. “I know but I… Dayeon and Grandpa aren’t like you guys or any of the numbers, they can’t defend themselves if I hurt them.”

The pained look on his sister’s face and the cautious look in her eyes as if she expected to be hit again– it made him sick.

“Adjusting to regular life after everything you’ve gone through is tough, Ijin. You’re traumatized and dealing with it is never easy, especially with missing memories like yours. My old man was hard as nails most of the time but even he got like that sometimes.” Major paused, the faint sound of a pen clicking making its way over the line as the line stretched. “Having someone you can lean on in those moments helps so give your family a chance, kid. They’re stronger than you give them credit for so trust them to help you regain your memories.”

He remembered his grandfather’s tears when he first got back, those gentle hands that cupped his face and the glistening eyes that looked at him as if he were more than an asset or a weapon. 

He remembered the worry and relief in his sister’s eyes when she saw that he was okay after she and Yeona had been kidnapped, putting his safety over her own in a way that was entirely foreign to him. 

“It doesn’t change how I view you, Ijin.” 

“Okay,” Ijin agreed, something thick lodging itself in his throat as a tentative hope bloomed within him. “I’ll try. Thank you, Major.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” the man grumbled petulantly before sobering up. “But seriously, Ijin. I’m here anytime you need me.”

“I know. I’m here for you too, Major.”

“Who’s the adult here, brat? It's late and a school night so get some rest.”

They hung up soon after that and Ijin slowly climbed his way back up to their apartment. 

It was quiet when he got there, carefully pulling his shoes off and placing them on the rack in a stall for time before he hesitantly made his way to the kitchen. 

The mess was cleaned up and the mugs were placed in the sink, still dirty and unwashed. 

Grandpa sat at the table, his eyebrows pulled a troubled frown. Dayeon was nowhere to be seen and he absently noted that his sister’s shoes had been missing when he walked in– had she gone out to look for him? 

“Grandpa?”

His grandfather whirled around to face him, shoulders loosening with relief before he got to his feet and approached Ijin. “Ijin! Oh, are you okay?”

“I… I’m fine. I’m sorry I scared you, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, Ijin,” Grandpa interrupted fiercely. “I know we don’t know everything that happened to you these past ten years but I know they’ve been hard on you. I was being too hasty and should’ve been more conscious of how delicate memories are. I’m sorry, Ijin.”

“It’s not your fault,” he disagreed, dismayed at the insinuation that they had done something wrong by trying to share their memories of his missing past with him. “I was… I remembered something wrong and I hurt Dayeon…”

Grandpa shook his head. “Your sister’s fine, Ijin. It was just a little spilt of hot chocolate.”

Oh. He didn’t… 

Relief slammed into him like a freight train at the realization that he hadn’t hurt her. His hands trembled a bit and his eyes burned with unshed tears that he hastily tried to blink away but they kept stubbornly coming.

His grandfather pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his neck with a warm hand as tears spilled down his face and stained the fabric of his clothing. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

The biting cold within him thawed as he stood wrapped in these welcoming arms and for the first time in years, he was warm on both the inside and out. It was foreign but not unwelcome and if he had to put a name to it, Ijin thought–

He thought it might be hope.

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Look at my baby, he deserves everything. I like exploring his trauma and what he thinks of his past self and parents

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

ultimately something i think i'll just never get over re: the loki series is the fact that the time travel theme afforded so many opportunities to delve into the most core facets of loki's history and character (aka the things that formed the basis of literally every loki plotline and all his ~villainous deeds~) and allow him to finally reckon with that history - loki's jotun heritage, odin's manipulation/emotional abuse of both loki and thor, loki's suicide attempt, everything with thanos - and the creators were just. fundamentally and inexplicably not interested in any of that

[askshivanulegacy]

SHIPPING MEME!! 2, 3, 4, 5 (>.>), 14, 15, 26!

THANK

2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.

HMMMM. I'm going to include platonic ships in this, and they're all ships I've RP'd. Also, there are definitely more than 3 super important ships, so these are definitely NOT all of them.

(Platonic) Zack/Angeal/Genesis/Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7. My first-ever set of online RPs. Really how I got into RP and art and writing! Still love them. I want to pick up the new games at some point, and I still have old fics on my to-do list.

Blakk and Saare-ha. An unplanned ship, but so good. the RP here is how I got into SWTOR. Still my canon storyline and I hope to finish some day!

Blakk and Ahuska. One of my current major ships and responsible for a few other most excellent ships, as well as some most excellent projects. >3

All of these ships and ones I haven't mentioned are of course responsible for hooking me up with my most bestest online friendships. What could be better than stories and fandoms and friends? ♥♥♥

3. What’s your current OTP?

I have several ships with Blakk that I love: Blakk/Ahuska, Blakk/Der, Blakk/Zim, Blakk/Zim/Der/Ahuska. Ofc, as my main OC, I love all my ships with him, even if they aren't listed. ♥

ALSO, I love Watcher Five/Cipher Thirteen/Crow aaaaand whoever else may or may not get wrapped up into that. 8) Cipher 13 is my newest trash child and he's amazing. >3

4. What’s your current NOTP?

Ahahahaha ... Shuri and Namor (Wakanda Forever). There's SO many things about this ship that I find extremely disagreeable.

Namor's entire arc starts with a gaslighting trip ("it's your fault I'm attacking you because you won't join me in worldwide genocide"), followed by the lovely murder of Shuri's mother. Despite his supposed agreement to stand down from his warmongering ways, he ends the movie with a renewed commitment to beat Wakanda the moment he can find a way to do it. Not once does he express remorse or any genuine desire to co-exist with Wakanda. As long as they refuse to be his tool to take over the world and/or commit mass genocide, they are his enemy. Shuri certainly (and rightfully) showed no interest in him in the whole movie. She's honestly got better things on her mind, not the least of which is her mother's murder. It's a sign of her own character growth that she even let him live after his murder spree. But at the end of the movie, Namor had no character growth: he's the same as he was at the beginning, except beaten.

I look at this ship and all I can ask is WHY. Maybe there's room in a future movie for him to develop as a character (after all, this was Shuri's story, and not his), but right now it's a ship I just can't stomach lol. It's such a weird ship. It doesn't recognize anything that happened in the movie. I appreciate a good bad guy ship, but there's nothing compelling in Namor even as a character to achieve that the way he was portrayed. And the funny thing is that it's not even presented as the random OOC ship it is, or even a solid hate-ship, it's presented like there's a basis for Shuri and Namor to actually have a loving relationship ... and there isn't. She's a child. He's a centuries-old child throwing a temper tantrum that nobody else in his entire underwater kingdom probably understands. He murdered her mother and said it was their own fault. Just nope.

People can ofc ship whoever they want, but this is the first ship I've seen that I've been so opposed to even seeing the art on my dash. These tender, loving glances between Shuri and Namor?? Wot??? Like, did we watch the same movie?? Doesn't seem like it, lol.

5. Do you have any poly ships?

I DO IN FACT. 8)

(SWTOR OCs) Watcher 5/Cipher 13/Crow +/- Ulfran is a CURRENT FAVE. Ahuska floats around on the fringes. 8)

Derrick/Blakk/Zim/Ahuska is another fun one, and I've had a couple others over the years. >3

14. How do you feel about will they/won’t they?

An excellent trope, especially in slow burn action. >3

15. Have you ever “shipped at first sight”?

Not that I recall, actually. The characters have to reveal themselves first, along with their motivations and how they tie into the story. I don't ship just anyone, and I don't do it just based on the appearance of characters. I'm also not a super frequent shipper either. I default to canon relationships all the time with zero desire to change it and zero desire to delve into fanfiction. I have to really connect to the characters and want to see more of them before I think about shipping.

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?

Now that I think about it I GUESS THERE IS.

I seem to lean strongly into angsty bad boy + heart of gold, or angsty bad boy + power figure. Honestly, as long as there's a stabby, desperate, angst bucket, my shipping radar boots up. XDD

[hsvh-hp]

Erised 2024 Fic Rec List!

I wanted to put this forward before @hd-erised reveals to maximize the blindness of my recs for this year’s fest!

These were my favourites among those up for offer, in order of posting (note, this is fic only - every single piece of art was gorgeous and is worth looking at it): 

✨ Runaway Train (18k)

This is a cool fic. I can’t think of a better word to describe it. Right from the get-go, the reader is strapped in alongside Harry and we are on a journey. The title fits the feeling of that perfectly. I was not expecting the end result of the mystery, and I mean that in a way that left me with a sense of wonder. It’s so incredibly original. 

I also love a Draco who isn’t afraid post-war of appreciating old magic. There’s nuance in his separation between that which is bad and good! Also, I’m a sucker for when the conflict or tension in a Drarry fic is Harry and Draco versus something else, not them against each other. They make such a great team when allowed! 

✨ At Night All Birds are Black (51k)

This fic put a lump in my throat at the end. The first thing I think about when I consider this fic is the resolution because it brought everything together so beautifully. 

I don’t want to spoil since this is a case fic, but it was just so captivating! The lore and worldbuilding were just incredible. 

✨ Body and Soul (22k)

I find myself rather fussy about both soul mark and creature fics. This one explored the comorbidity of two such things in such interesting fashion that it hit the notes for me! There was also just enough angst to hurt, and the happy ending made it very worth the pain. Bonus points for magical/Healing theory and using framing as a narrative device!

✨ The Pain From an Old Wound (30k)

When it comes to magical theory and case fics, this one continued the trend of me being fed this Erised season. The nature of inheritances and wizarding culture are more tropes that I am very picky about, although this fic did it in a way I enjoy. 

It delved into other tropes that I thoroughly enjoy but don’t see very often in fic, like including things about Malfoy Manor, a bigger role for Narcissa, and (because I don’t want to spoil) THAT SOLUTION to how Draco solves the blood curse placed on Harry. Also, I must mention that I very much enjoyed Ron as a socialite! 

✨ A Soft Place to Fall (142k)

Although the word count on this one was initially daunting, I became very quickly glad that it would take me multiple days to savour and enjoy this fic. It hit so many notes for me that I don’t even really know where to begin. 

The magical theory (again, fed) was incredible, and how it tied in with trauma and healing for Harry. I found it subversive in the sense that it touched upon trauma post-war that I don’t usually see, focusing more on his childhood than the war itself (although of course that is not forgotten). 

It also features a Professors-but-not-Professors AU, with Healer Draco and Harry teaching physical ed. I always enjoy Healer Draco anyway, but I loved seeing the non-explicit ways that he has changed his life since the war. He’s great with the students who end up in the hospital wing. He had a hand in physical ed being offered at Hogwarts, as well as the fact that Muggle sports were incorporated. When he realizes that something is off about Harry (following an incident), he puts aside their initial tension in order to fulfill his Oath. It’s completely organic that he truly begins to care. That is never brought into question for the reader (Harry takes some convincing, but what do you do lol). 

Other things I loved: ZACHARIAS SMITH (it’s possible!), the students (they are so cute), and Harry’s relationship to his trauma and how he learns to love himself. And, of course, it goes without saying, how Harry and Draco grow together. This will be a go-to comfort fic for me, in future. 

✨ Seven-and-sixpence (35k)

There are some tropes that are very difficult for me, infidelity (although it is NOT between Draco and Harry here) and open endings among them. HOWEVER, sometimes a fic will come along with those tropes on offer and I will be pleasantly surprised! 

This fic was that for me. There was something about Harry having such a deep need that going to Draco regardless of his current relationship that really spoke to me. And as for Draco, this is pretty much the only way I like him portrayed when he doesn’t feel worthy of Harry. He’ll still take him, and he’ll build him up, and then his sense of inadequacy only increases because if he didn’t deserve him to start, he certainly doesn’t now. I really enjoyed the complexity of that. 

✨ Prescription (2k)

In contrast to the previous one, very sweet! Also a perfect bite size. Draco is Harry’s favourite Healer, and they go from there. ❤️

✨ Old love don’t rust (20k)

A case fic, although the case (however interesting!) is merely the backdrop. I thoroughly enjoyed the non-linear narrative, and how Harry and Draco’s history was gradually built while they’re dealing with coming back together in a tense, high-stakes sort of way.

I struggle generally with ‘getting back together’ fics, since I have a hard time seeing them letting go of each other once they have a hold, although to me it’s very understandable that life gets in the way, especially when you’re young and just getting started. This was handled in a satisfying way to me. 

✨ Equipoise (88k)

More magical theory! And another case fic! I love case fics when magic itself has something to do with the solution, as well as magical creatures being included. The way magic itself as a quantity is handled in this fic had me spinning up theories and hitting Next Chapter through to the end. The secondary plot, based on a creative play with Unbreakable Vows, was also a nail biter. Poor Harry, but thank god Draco was willing to help him out. 

✨ Victory Lap (4k)

There’s a lot of story here for under 5000 words! The Wizengamot case that Draco was sequestered for is HELLA interesting, and seeing as I’m always a hungry sucker for Established Drarry, Draco and Harry’s reunion was a lovely (and hot) read. 

✨ As Luck Would Have It (12k)

I am very weak for canon divergence Drarry, especially in 6th year. Do you want Half-Blood Prince, but Draco and Harry are weird and unable to stay away from each other? Do you like it when the canon plot is changed in interesting and creative ways, and comes up to an exciting conclusion? Well, I do, so I loved this fic, and if you do, you’ll love it too. 

✨ Storm’s Eye (12k)

The chemistry is on point here, the lore/theory intriguing, and the race against time palpable. I’m a sucker for Draco being protective of Harry, and of calling him ‘love’ and ‘darling’ so naturally. I melted every time (and so did Harry lol). Extremely satisfying. 

✨ Kiss Me, Fuck Me, Love Me (5k)

Yay, more non-linear narrative! This is another thing I am being fed on this year. 

The fic balances being sweet, hot, and funny perfectly and creates an explosion as Harry and Draco ride out the last night of their mutual pining and the first night of their relationship on New Year’s Eve! I realized while reading this that my favourite kind of Drarry mutual pining is when it’s their friends who are suffering, not so much them, lol. Pansy and Ron’s individual theatrics about Harry and Draco was hilarious. 

So those were my favourites! I'm very excited for reveals to find out who the authors are! ❤️💚

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

[breathlesswordsbloodyknees]

Narrative Doom

Introduction

I've been playing around in and exploring this space where Sauron as Halbrand was genuinely seeking redemption, trying not to manipulate events but merely nudge them.

In my view, at this point he's in survivalist bed-rotting mode post-goo-form when he meets Galadriel. (I think he's more of an opportunist than a schemer in this era. Not that he doesn't have those schemes, but I think he's pushing those bad bad urges down. I have a web of scenes that I consider in this view for some other day)

I’m building much of this piece on these previous work: (link) (link) (link)

It's led me down some interesting philosophical rabbitholes, and I'd like to share.

Now, important to note, Sauron is a Maia—not a 'human' by any means. He's an ancient spiritual being who doesn’t feel the way us teeny tiny mortals do.

But on a broader scale: Tolkien’s work, like fiction as a whole, reflects and explores the human experience, so we’re riding that train.

All this with the framework of not absolving him for anything that came before or comes after. I plan on expanding into his evil alongside Morgoth and his actions in Season 2 at a later date.

But right now, we’re just exploring this blip of a moment where I consider Sauron could be genuine in repentance.

This is more an analysis of Sauron, but I feel like it has a lot to explore for Haladriel fans. There's some critique of Galadriel's choices here, but I want to make it clear: I'm not assigning blame. More just digging into the complexities.

And, well, I don't think this ship would be as compelling if it didn't have complexities.

Spoilers:

All of TROP S1

Vague themes/lines in TROP S2, mostly from S2E1.

The Good Place spoilers for overall theme and a few season 4 lines, but nothing outright about the plot.

Trigger Warning:

Be warned, I’m going to delve into some dark themes in a very personal way. Including but not limited to abuse cycles, personal trauma, harmful behaviors, and empathy within all of that.

I won’t lie, this work was hard for me. Painful to untangle. I would encourage you to have empathy and compassion for yourself, as well as me, while you read. I tried to put warnings before I go into these themes. Please take care of yourself.

---

To start

Sauron’s narrative, at its simplest, is a cautionary tale: If you let your ambition and drive for power go too far, you turn to evil. Higher values over sinful pleasures. Pride goeth before the fall.

But on a deeper level, being solely a cautionary tale, an overarching villain, a lesson to learn, what does that mean for the complexities of Sauron in The Rings of Power?

Charlie Vickers puts so many layers and so much emotion into his character. Yet he keeps it to a lot of imperceptible movements that, I found out last night, get almost completely lost in low resolution. I can see that being a part of some of the stricter interpretations of Vickers' Sauron. But there’s a vulnerability there that touches on some deeply raw thoughts.

—

So the relentless question in fandom: Does he mean any of it with Galadriel or is he just the Great Deceiver?

I'd like to ask, how much of it is just some deeply relatable ‘human’ behavior? Deflection, defensiveness. Half-truths, twisted truths, fibs.

Because as he says on the raft, he did tell her the truth, that he had done great evil in service of Morgoth. He never lied to her.

(An aside: I personally don’t give the “my ancestor” thing much weight as a true lie, I mean it’s his backstory and he had more reason for it than the Darkling did imho)

But really, who doesn’t try to hide and smooth over the worst ugly evil nasty bits of themselves and their past? We want to shine in the eyes of others—it's a fundamental desire to most.

—

On the other side, touching on influence and ambition:

Aren’t we all trying to sway events and leave an impact in whatever way we’re capable? Don’t we all attempt to sculpt the world like clay? Isn’t that really all we can do in this world?

And don't we often tell ourselves that we’re doing it for a better outcome? Even actions deemed ‘good’ and ‘heroic’ create ripples that have negative impacts, if only just for the orc babies.

I’ve been thinking a lot about orc babies.

—

Galadriel, from their first conversation on the raft in S1E2, backs him into a corner. She’s relentless in her quest for revenge against him and he’s whoops—sitting right there, doing the side eye meme. He’s gotta be self-preservational. And that rings true to me more than outright deceit. (At this point)

But I think over the course of the season, playing as Halbrand, “Lost King of the Southlands”, he’s trying. Trying to be “the hero she seeks”. Trying in the only way he knows how, which is…well, not great, he really toes the line. But he’s trying to ‘choose good every day and choose it again tomorrow’, while he’s on the path she set him on. So it’s a step by step journey towards the light, but the path is ever slippery.

And inevitably, as we know, he fails.

—

TW

So what does that mean for those of us who feel like we’re trapped in the narrative, hurtling toward a doomed end through harmful behaviors we can’t escape? Tied onto the train tracks, staring down what feels like an inevitable fate.

When all you’ve known for ages is subjugation and torment and abuse, what do you become? (Which makes Mairon even more painful, with his origin of beauty and light. Like a whisper of I was once admirable too)

I keep coming back to the image of grooves, well worn. And well, under the influence of an abuser and beyond, I too have done evil.

Holding the good you’ve aspired to and the evil you’ve done in one space; it’s a sharp, heavy feeling like holding coals, like touching a hot pan, something to run and hide from. And looking at my deeply ingrained behaviors from childhood, along with trauma that’s happened throughout my life...I see those grooves echoing in jagged bloody ways that feel comforting, even natural.

For a long while, it’s been the only way I knew how to self-soothe, these behaviors that can cause harm to myself and others. So I’ve been twisting around the question: Can we ever truly be free of the evil we’ve done? If it’s all we’ve ever known, baked and beaten into our bone marrow?

In Sauron’s case, the answer is no. His story unfolds the way it was written. The bad guys perish, the good guys win.

(though there’s the “they meet in Valinor” after canon theory, hope ever shines through)

—

That all brings me into The Good Place and that show’s moral thesis.

Spoilers for The Good Place:

More or less, the show states “people improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don't?” and “What matters isn't if people are good or bad. What matters is if they're trying to be better today than they were yesterday.” (S4E8)

Scanlons’ What We Owe to Each Other and the rabbithole of contractualism that I haven’t fully delved into.

I resonate deeply with what The Good Place says. All with the understanding that you have to put on your own air mask before you help others, don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

But I do believe we should help each other in what ways we can, rather than writing people off entirely.

So, I struggle with Galadriel’s moments of “shutting the door” being considered wholly empowering. Light prevailing, resisting the allure of darkness and the draw of power. It is indeed all those things, especially for her journey. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame her.

But there’s an itching here for me and I have to scratch it.

—

In S1E8, if we’re assuming he’s genuine, he put it all out there in the raft illusion. It was his biggest, his all, his hope. A leap of faith. Real vulnerability with an internal truth that was like holding coals.

He did what was ‘right’. He reached for support, for understanding, for community, What We Owe to Each Other.

(though we can’t ignore the scene before that where he’s wearing Finrod’s face. But I haven’t followed that thread yet).

He made a play for a better future.

And she—light and goodness and holiness in her hair, denied him.

“You are Morgoth’s friend”, “There is no such future.” Boiling him down to his worst parts, reinforcing his worst fears.

Is that all we ever can be?

---

TW

When do we write off people like Sauron, with all his history of wrongdoing? People like my abusers or even myself? When does the potential for redemption become irrevocably lost?

How much empathy should we show, and what are we obligated to offer? What do we owe to each other? All of this while carefully balancing the line of not condoning or becoming an apologist, along with taking care of yourself first.

It’s mind-boggling.

---

The answers are out there: self-compassion, self-forgiveness. Change comes from within. Balance. But it's the same way people say go outside, exercise more, drink more water to fix depression. When you're in the throes of darkness, those words feel hollow, trite. And that glossy sunlit path is more than treacherous when you walk it, especially alone.

So again, I say, I scream: Should we not still help each other?

It's not just internal and external separately, we need both. I have to believe that. Internal change and external support.

—

Conclusion

In the end, I'm really only left with more questions. This barely scratches the surface of what I've been brewing on, I could go round and round for days. I mean, that’s what I’ve been doing this week.

Regardless, all the typical takeaways feel hollow. Choose light, choose hope, every single step, no matter how hard.

It’s never quite that simple, on a very visceral level. And for some of us, like Sauron, it never materializes.

It all just eats and scratches and twists inside me. Ultimately though, I think Caitlin Seida said it best about hope and redemption and the struggle in her poem, Hope is Not A Bird, Emily, It’s a Sewer Rat. Which I greatly hope you’ll read and find what I have in it. (link)

So I guess we keep being scrabbly little sewer rats, hoping to claw our way out of the dank dark cave. And y’know, it may not mean much, but I’ll be here, down in the muck. Right there with you.

Maybe that’s all we owe to each other.

Follow-up

[reidsrambles]

Something More and Second Chances

Chapter 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader // Second chance

Description: You're stunned when your former friends with benefits shows up at your new job—and nearly a decade after you ghosted him. It turns out, he works in the same building, and he definitely hasn't forgotten about you. Will your apologies be enough? What happens if he does forgive you? Does time truly heal all wounds? (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, friends with benefits, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, condomless sex, IUD birth control, mention of abortion (in the context of being on the same page prior to sex), riding, soft dom M, praise kink F.

This fic is quite emotionally heavy, and both Spencer and Reader delve deep into past traumas. None is current. If any of these topics may be triggering or upsetting to you, please skip this one: child abuse, child abandonment, attachment issues, foster care, adoption, CPS, bullying, trust issues, mental health issues, misunderstandings, ghosting, and Reader mentions that she possibly committed emotional infidelity in the past, thinking about Spencer while with another partner.

Names used: Baby, good girl

Words (this chapter): 4,638

Words (total): 12,462

Spencer… a fed? Law enforcement is the last career you would’ve expected Spencer Reid to end up in. Researcher? Yes. Professor? Yes. He mentioned nothing about the FBI. He never seemed to have an interest in policing. Without the gun at his hip, you would have mistaken him for IT coming to fix that one printer that’s been broken all week. Is he even allowed to shoot that thing? Well, he wouldn’t be in this building with that badge otherwise.

Walking into the quaint coffee shop in the late evening—one of the few non-chain shops in your neighborhood that stays open late—you’re glad that you picked the location. It’s familiar. It’s safe. 

You greet the lone barista as you walk to the table Spencer has secured in the far corner. Steven always works the night shift.

“Hey,” you whisper as you walk up to the table. Any louder would be inappropriate given how silent the cafe is. The only other customers are a group of college kids on their laptops up front.

“I got you a black tea. I hope that’s alright,” he says, gesturing to it. “You used to drink black tea like it was water, so I figured it was a safe bet.” 

“A safe bet, indeed.” 

As you take your seat across from him, you mindlessly dip the tip of your pinky into your tea to check the temperature, finding it to be near perfect. The small bead of tea spreads between your lips as you place the finger against them, sucking it away. Spencer looks at you, biting his cheek to suppress a smirk.

You roll your eyes at him with playful exasperation. “Sorry, I know you always hated when I did that! I know you have your whole germ thing.”He laughs, throwing his hands up to proclaim his innocence. “It’s just funny, all the little habits that haven’t changed over the years. You used to do that with every tea I’d buy you.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to check the temperature!?”

Laughing, he says, “By feeling how much heat is radiating off it, like a normal person? And, I’ll have you know, my ‘whole germ thing’ has gotten a lot better since college!”

With only a few sentences between you, you’ve already fallen into comfortable back-and-forth, again. 

“But a recent study did find that there are an average of over a hundred and fifty bacterial species on the palm of the hand. The underside of the fingernail would presumably harbor even more bacteria.”

“On the plus side, I don’t get sick very often.”

He laughs his adorable, infectious giggle, and for a moment, all is right in the world. For a moment, all you can think about is being under the covers with a 21-year-old Spencer, cuddling and laughing about whatever movie you’re not paying any mind to. He was always more interesting. His mind and body; both, a frequent fascination of yours.

Spencer clears his throat. “So, do you live around here? Is that why you picked this place?”

“Yeah. I moved here after I finished my English Lit degree. I got my MLIS at Strayer. Having my rent grandfathered in is the only reason I can afford to live in Arlington.” You take a sip of your tea, realizing that you’ve already been neglecting it. The temperature is utterly perfect now. A blink lasts a beat too long as you savor the taste and the warmth of it. 

“Do you live in Quantico?” you ask. “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad. I probably should have asked instead of just picking a place. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“I live in the East End of D.C., actually,” he winces. “The long commute isn’t ideal, but it was only a 14 minute drive here, at least.”

“Oh, good. That’s not too bad.”

You should say more. You should start apologizing. Just say anything of any substance. But staring down at your tea, you just want to take a long sip to avoid having to say anything for even a few seconds longer.

Spencer shifts in his seat. Your lips feel so dry. Would it make it even more awkward if you ruffled around in your purse for your lip chap? 

You throw your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to gather the strength to have this conversation, as if you haven’t had it a million times already in your head over the years. 

“Sorry,” you breathe “I know what I need to say, but I’m just procrastinating.”

“Do you want me to…?”

Spencer’s always been rather direct. You aren’t even sure what he could be alluding to, but you don’t give it more than a second’s thought before you start.

“Where to begin?” you ask yourself aloud, trying to maintain your poise. “Let’s start with my mom, I guess. Remember when you met my mom, because she came into town for the weekend as a surprise?”

He nods. “She showed up that one evening while we were eating dinner.”

By that point, a few months after meeting him, the lines of your relationship with Spencer were already pretty blurred, and he was staying the night more regularly. It was just more convenient that way, you’d told yourself. You didn’t want to kick him out in the middle of the night after fucking him, and it wasn’t like you absolutely hated having him around, or anything.

“So, you met one of my moms. I have two.” You rapid-fire, wanting to get as much as possible out at once. “They’re married. Neither of them is a biological parent, though. I don’t remember either of my biological parents. I was adopted when I was 7, but I was in foster care for 3 years before that. Apparently, CPS workers didn’t find me in the best environment when they came to pick me up.”

The building you survived in for the first years of your life wasn’t a home; Calling it a house would’ve been a stretch too. The situation was downright neglectful. It was abusive. You were only a child, dirtied by the filth of your environment. Marks in shades of red and yellow and purple dotted your body. 

Every sentence is difficult to get out, but you’ve worked to unbury the details of your early life for years. It's not like you'll ever completely heal from that, but you’re more at peace with your origin story than you’ve ever been. Still, every time you’ve shared the stories of your childhood, you’ve had to fight the icky feelings that arise.

You swallow hard, looking down at your hands as you mindlessly pick at the skin around your nails. “Okay, it was really bad. My biological parents were really, really abusive, and my foster mom said it amazed her that I survived it.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see that he’s resting his chin against clasped hands, subtly nodding as he processes the bomb you just dropped. You’ll look anywhere except directly at him. You’ve gotten a lot better at opening up, but you feel like crawling out of your own skin when someone gives you a pitying look. 

“Do you know what my job is at the FBI?” Spencer asks.

“No, but I know you carry a gun, so that limits the possibilities.”

“I’m a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

Now it’s your turn to nod and listen.

“I’ve combed through every memory that I have from those eight months more times than I probably should have. Y/N, I know that I don’t need to tell you what childhood attachment trauma is.” 

Spencer leans back slightly in his chair, his mug clutched between his hands. Though nobody is in the vicinity, he speaks in a hushed voice as he continues. 

“We had a case in recent years where a young girl was murdering the parents of her school bullies.” He tips his head to the side, his raised eyebrows emphasizing his words. “And she had a number of bullies.”

Spencer’s soft, warm tone contrasts his story.

“The local PD probably should have made the connections sooner, but it was a small town. Everyone went to the same elementary, middle, and high schools, so all the victims having kids at the same school wasn’t a factor they even considered until we brought it up. It was one of the first things I noticed when I read the case file.”

“Spencer, are you judging their detective work?”

Your face quickly falls flat. Why the hell would you crack a joke when he’s detailing such a horrific case? Shit.

“It’s hard not to when the patterns they miss are so clear and lives are lost due to their incompetence.”

You can’t even begin to imagine what Spencer sees and deals with at work. You notice—whether because of that realization or to the cafe’s dim lighting, you aren’t sure—that Spencer’s skin is rougher than it used to be. Small, barely noticeable scars mark his body. His boyish glow has faded, replaced by an air of perpetual exhaustion. 

“Anyway,” he says, “as we profiled and uncovered more about this girl’s life, I kept being reminded of little things you did or said that I never paid any mind to.” He brings the mug to his lips, drawing back a sip. He licks the moisture from his lips. “Her parents were fully cooperative. When we brought them in, they described how horrifically abusive her childhood was before her adoption. Her birth parents were in jail for the neglect.”

You push down the memory of the time your biological mother tried to call you from federal prison. How she got that call approved, you’ll never know, but you can only imagine that she paid someone off or slept with them. 

“Her mom said she’d always had trust issues,” Spencer continues. “She used to hide anything that was meaningful to her, even from her own parents. She would wake up in the middle of the night in a panic at least a few times a week. When she’d make a friend at school, she’d sabotage the relationship. As soon as she’d start succeeding academically, her grades would worsen.” 

He could keep listing things, but when his eyes meet yours, the deer-in-headlights look you must have going on makes your recognition clear to him.

“So during that case, you realized that away from you because of my attachment trauma?”

“Well, I didn’t know for sure, obviously, but it became the top contender of my theories.”

A pang of guilt rings through your chest that Spencer has wasted any thought for you since you left, let alone to the extent of multiple theories as to your disappearance. It’s hypocritical to feel guilty, though, when you’ve regularly wondered how he is, stopping short of looking him up or reaching out. You knew he’d be accomplishing exceptional things, but digging into his life would have just made the guilt even worse. It took years before you didn’t feel nauseous anytime he entered your thoughts. 

“Well, now you know, I guess.”

The sense of feeling wholly too well-read is bringing your inner younger, vulnerable self out, causing a prickling heat to bite behind your eyes. You take a moment to practice your calming strategies, mentally repeating your affirmations of safety, and taking deep belly breaths to calm yourself. The pressure in your chest subsides. The warmth drains from your face.

Again, Spencer waits, altogether unphased. You aren’t sure how many seconds pass, but you know from experience that your tone and body language would have clearly read as guarded and closed-off to the layperson, let alone a profiler.

“Sorry about that.”

Sternly, but absent of anger, he says, “There’s nothing to apologize for, and you know that.”

You do.

“I almost forgot that you were never one for forced pleasantries,” you joke.

He simply lifts the corner of his mouth in a half-smile, re-searing the memory of tracing that one dimple into your brain.

“Can you tell me what you felt when you began to shut down?” he asks. “Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

Without missing a beat, you say, “I felt like I needed to crawl into a shell; like my chest was hardening into a plate of steel to protect myself.” 

You didn’t need to reflect on what you felt, because you’ve felt it so many times and used those exact descriptors with numerous doctors and therapists.

“But I’m sure you already know that,” you say.

Spencer sets his mug down on the table again, not letting go of it as he adjusts to sit forward, forearms against the table.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me,” he says softly. 

“I mean, I kind of owe it to you after what I did.”

He looks up at you from the table, a twinge of concern painting his face. “First, you never owe anyone that information. Secondly, you do know that how things ended between us isn’t entirely on you, right?”

When you just sit there, growing more confused as to what he could be referring to, he continues. 

“You had a lot going on in your head at that time—that, I was well aware of—and instead of just asking you about it, I clung onto you like a leech. Are you forgetting how many times in a day I’d call you? How many emails I sent you? How often I bugged you to come over?”

Honestly, you had forgotten, until now; until he spelled out those exact memories again. For so long, you didn’t want to think about that time in your life at all. Every memory of Spencer was thrown into a box and locked away in some corner of your head. 

“Y/N, neither of us knew how to effectively communicate our feelings. We were friends first, and then we started hooking up. When you proposed a,” he air quotes with his fingers “‘friends with benefits arrangement’, I agreed, knowing that I was going to fall for you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to shut my feelings off, so I chose to shove them down instead because I didn’t want to lose you being a part of my life.”

“And then I left…” you nod.

He lowers his head. “I just assumed that I had pushed you away.”

“Spencer, I’m so sorry that I made you feel that.”

“I’ve come to realize over the years that there are many reasons, most of them having nothing to do with you, that I jumped to that conclusion. I’ve always been made to feel like an annoyance or an inconvenience. Teachers, peers, coworkers. You were the first person in my life, besides my mom, who asked me to talk more. To share more. You listened to me, Y/N.” His eyes soften and the corner of his mouth upturns into a forlorn smile. “I’m sure that my dad leaving so early in my life didn’t help my clinginess and sensitivity to rejection, either.” 

He blows out a long sigh, as if deflating his lungs will soothe the emotional wound he just jabbed.

He’s so much more confident and mature now. It’s oddly comforting to know that he’s still fighting his own insecurities and self-doubt. 

“Spencer, I was never annoyed by you. Not once. In my mind, everything that went wrong between us was because I realized that I was in love with you, too. I self-sabotaged because I didn’t know how to have a secure relationship with anyone, not even my own moms. 

“When I was a teenager, I was downright verbally abusive towards them. I was a horrible child, angry at everything and everyone. My parents never wavered, though. They truly loved me unconditionally and always told me so. And I still treated them like shit because I was terrified that if I let myself feel entirely safe with them, they’d leave me. If my own flesh and blood couldn’t love me, how could they?”

This is the most you’ve opened up to anyone, let alone all at once. 

“I truly apologized to them for the first time at 24 years old, and that was only after I got myself into therapy. The therapy I had as a kid didn’t do much. I was too volatile; downright hostile sometimes. I’m amazed my parents never institutionalized me,” you quip. 

Spencer doesn’t laugh or smile or at all react to your half-assed self-deprecation. 

He removes his hands from his mug and slides them ever-so-slightly forward on the small table. Subtle enough that an onlooker wouldn’t notice, but you do. 

You want to touch him again. That much, you know for sure. With your tea gone, your hands feel frigid, and, though it’s probably in your head, you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

Before you can think yourself into a spiral, you push the fear of rejection down and embrace the trust in him that you’ve found tonight. Sliding forward a few inches, Spencer’s waiting hands take yours. 

Your eyes flutter a moment—from the soothing heat of his hands wrapped around yours or the shock of the contact, you aren’t sure.

He doesn’t comment on the temperature of your hands. He just softly rubs them, the gesture causing your brain to go blank. It feels so right.

“What’s going through your head?” he asks.

Your hands tense with a jerk at his question, and he loosens his grasp, allowing you to pull them back if you need to.

Looking into his eyes, you still don’t sense any judgement or hesitation. No apprehension or alarm at your jumpiness. 

As you relax again, Spencer resumes the soothing rubs.

“Did you know that this is the most I’ve opened up to anyone in a long time?” Your chin dips with a wistful smile, and Spencer lightly squeezes your hands in response.

You continue with another question that doesn’t require a response. “Did you also know that you were my only friend in college?” 

Spencer smiles softly and laughs. “Ditto.”

“I actually have a really good group of friends now, and it’s something I’m really proud of. It took a lot of self-reflection and a lot of inner work to allow myself to be honest with them. I got really lucky, and I found some incredible people who supported me, knowing how difficult it is for me to share. They embraced me with open arms whenever I opened up, a little at a time.”

Your voice, a mixture of hope and sadness, thickens as you speak. “I’ve thought a lot about what my life could have looked like if I had been able to trust you; if I could have let you in and not shut you out.”

Spencer responds, “I studied psychology, and it wasn’t until working with the BAU that I actually started to really understand people’s behavior. Even still, being personally involved in a situation blinds us to the things that are easily observed in hindsight. You couldn’t have fully trusted me back then, regardless of how much you wanted to, and we both know that.”

“I just want you to know that I do take responsibility for the way I left you. I don’t want this to come across as some sob-story excuse,” you frown.

Spencer huffs out a soft laugh.

“Isn’t it kind of ironic that we both thought that we were the reason things ended between us? Y/N, if it helps to hear it, then I forgive you for anything you did back then. But I don’t think you need forgiving. At least, not from me. We were both 21. Of course, we’d do things differently if we could go back. We often tell victims suffering from survivor’s guilt that they did the best that they could with the resources they had at the time.”

That sentiment resonates with you a lot. It’s also applicable to basically every guilt-laden memory from your youth. You were dealing with a lot. You were surviving, but you never hurt anyone on purpose. 

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You fight the urge to ask what for, choosing to accept his gratitude instead.

The kids have gone home for the night; when, you don’t know. You don’t glance at your watch, but it must be about ten. Usually, you’d be crawling into bed around this time. With the lights dimmed, you’d be flipping through a book, occasionally getting so absorbed in it that you forget about the tea to your side. 

You’re familiar with how quiet it gets in here at this time of night, especially on a weeknight. In college, you were downing so much late-night coffee in here, especially around exam season, that they started to regularly slide you an extra one, on the house. But this silence is heavy. 

The weight of the guilt you’ve carried for so many years is gone, and everything that you came here to say has been said. This silence should be calming, but it’s crushing. 

Speaking now is like taking a sledgehammer to a sheet of plate glass, but the longer you wait, the worse it’ll get. “Are you—” you blurt out.

At the same time, Spencer says something that you don’t make out, before he cuts himself off with a fumble.

You apologize, wishing you had never even started, but Spencer insists.

“No, please. You go first.”

You pull your hands from his, crossing your arms in front of your body.

Again, unable to meet his eyes, you ask, “I just figured I’d shift to a lighter topic and ask if you were seeing anyone these days? That’s all it was.” 

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you add, “Sorry, that was probably way too forward—”

“Y/N, I’ve been single for a long time,” he laughs. “One-night stands aren’t a particularly desirable concept. I went on some dates, but none of them developed into anything.”

“Really?”

“You act surprised.”

“I am.”

“What about you?” Spencer asks. “Are you seeing anyone?”

His voice is slightly huskier and free of any gaiety. You haven’t heard his voice like this since… probably since that morning you left. It stirs you at your core. The conversation is innocuous enough, but your body says otherwise.

"I’ve, uh, been single for about three years now? I just haven’t had the energy to put into going out and meeting people. I’m not 21 anymore. Bars and clubs aren’t really my scene. I did one speed-dating event, but it was a disaster.”

“How so?”

“I was the youngest one there, and all the guys were over 40. As you’d expect, none of them had any tact about it, even if I had been considering a fifteen year, plus age-gap relationship. Which, to be clear, I wasn’t.”

Spencer tries to suppress a laugh, and you follow suit. 

“Maybe I just picked the wrong event,” you add, “but it definitely turned me off of ever doing a speed-dating event again. I wore a low-cut top and a push-up bra that day, and the percentage of men who commented on my ‘nice rack’ was above half.”

It’s nice to be joking and laughing with him again. Even though you’re wearing the same modest long-sleeve turtleneck you wore to work and Spencer’s firmly keeping his eyes above shoulder-height, you can sense the attention you’ve drawn to your chest. But you want him to look. You want him to touch you again. 

Memories of sleeping with Spencer have faded with time, but having him in front of you, in the flesh, again has brought some clarity back.

Memories of his soft, hot mouth sucking at one nipple while his fingers pinched and rolled the other one. His hands are rougher now, but you can remember that hand trailing down your bare stomach, the featherlight touch of his fingers causing you to ache with anticipation. Those eyes. Seeing that hazel brings back memories of Spencer’s face, begging you to let him cum. It was your favorite way to see him; feeling so good that he was pleading for a release. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

Well, that’s fucking embarrassing.

“Sorry, yeah. I was just a bit distracted.”

A smirk crawls up his face. “Oh, am I boring you!?”

“No, of course not!” you quickly spit out. “I’m sorry. That was so rude to just check out like that.”

The glimmer of laughter in his eyes and the grin lighting up his face only add fuel to the fire of your desire. 

Shit. You actually want to fuck him again, don’t you?

 “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have teased you about it. What was on your mind?”

Are you really going to do this? This is probably your best shot, right? 

With a slightly lowered voice, eyes locked on his, you say, “You, Spencer.”

He seems… surprised? A bit startled, maybe? 

You grasp on to the fleeting bravado, trying to avoid letting any embarrassment cross your face. The ball is in his court now. A blush blooms beneath your skin, heating your cheeks and chest. The hand in your lap is shaking, so you clasp your hands together under the table, squeezing as tight as you can.

You’ve come onto guys for hookups before, but this isn’t just flirting with a random guy at some bar to try to take him home. This is saying, “II’ve shown you all the ugly parts of me and of my life. Do you still want me? Because I want you.”

When the initial shock wears off, Spencer blows out a puff of air and runs a hand through his hair.

His eyes aren’t returning to yours yet, though, and he hasn’t said a word. Have you been reading him wrong? Maybe he was just being friendly? Is he unattracted to you now? Maybe it’s deeper than any of that. You already broke his heart once, and then, while apologizing, you explained just how messy your life is. Not exactly boner material.

Trying to keep your tone steady and failing, you add, “It’s totally cool if you don’t feel the same way, just so you know. My feelings won’t be hurt.” Lie. “I literally just dumped all of my trauma on you, so this was probably poor timing on my part. I just thought you should know that I’m still very much attracted to you.”

This turtleneck feels like it’s choking you. You bring your hand up to the collar and scratch underneath the fabric, trying to free yourself of at least one excruciatingly uncomfortable sensation.

You shake your head. Unable to bear it any longer, you say, “I’m sorry. We can just talk about—”

“Y/N…”

Your heart stops and every muscle in your body freezes in place. You catch his knuckles white, then flushed pink as he releases a clenched fist on the tabletop. He straightens again and leans closer to you, over the table. 

His face is closer to yours than it has been all day. His gaze finally lifts from the table; first to your lips, then to your eyes, before falling back to your lips.

His lip quivers as he opens his mouth. Speaking barely above a whisper, pain tinges his voice. “I need to touch you.”

Besides being more turned on than you thought possible while sitting in a cafe, the sheer relief of not being rejected further emboldens you, fueling your next question. 

“Do you want to come home with me?”

Not taking his eyes off of your lips, he asks, “Just to clarify, you mean—”

Leaning in, you cut him off and whisper, “Yes, Spencer, for sex.”

He swallows hard and nods dumbly, eyes still firmly planted on your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[aingeal98]

Hi, so I was reading some of your Stephanie Brown meta & kudos, serious props yours is excellent. I also noticed you seem to be among those who picked up on the worrying undercurrent of Stephanie's relationships with older men. So double kudos for that.

Especially as its one of those things that tends to get glossed over in fandom & I am unsure at times if some writers even grasped what they were doing. Though that may say more about how girls tend to be treated/viewed as adults rather than children, teenagers or victims, save when its convenient to judge them as such.

Sorry not sure where I am going with this, but I think your stance it from that "Five ships that won't happen" section of the Steph ask as well thought out and covered a lot, so third kudos just for tackling that heavy topic so deftly and efficiently.

Ah thank you! Stephanie's relationship with men is so fascinating to me because she's been hurt so many times and the dissonance between her canon and fanon versions are pretty grim yet interesting. Like in early canon she was the Faith to Ariana's Buffy, the Veronica to the Bettys that were Tim's other love interests at the time. And various writers had various ideas about why she was the way she was, a common theme being that she had difficult relationships with the men in her life and had been hurt in the past. Be it a villain, a friend of her fathers, Cluemaster himself, or a shitty clearly too old guy named Dean. I don't think it was meant to be a pattern, more likely just individual ideas about trauma Steph suffered in her past that ended up turning into a consistent trait.

So you've got an abusive father, at least two cases of SA that I can remember (her babysitter and Black Mask), a pregnancy with clear subtext that the father was older than her, and the general way Batman treats her.

Not to mention she was a minor when all this happened. Like Steph has so many issues that she deserves the chance to unpack but instead they've just kind of... softened her down. Like her Batgirl run was the first chance she'd gotten to be the actual hero instead of The Girl in a story written by sexists, and she deserved every second of that. There had been too much injustice done to her character and her Batgirl run did a good job at setting the baseline for giving her a decent narrative. But afterwards, the New 52 could have delved more into her psyche instead of leaning into her waffles and sparkles fanon characterization. But because the New 52 is the worst, it didn't. And now here we are.

It's one of the reasons I'd really love to write a story about Steph realising she's bisexual, because I think in some ways her view of men are due to feeling trapped by heterosexuality and the patriarchal society. It's hard to explain fully without going into a whole other meta but the way she reacts to Tim showing her bare minimum decency is heartbreaking. Like yes men are awful and have been awful to her but she still likes them, she's going to settle down and marry one eventually right? She just has to find the right one, and Tim didn't treat her like complete garbage so he might be it for her!

And then for her to realise that no, she doesn't. She can marry a man if she wants to but if she wants romance there's also women... I really think bi Steph could be so much more than a simple "Oh hey I like girls now cool lol." Like it would shake a significant amount of the misogyny she's internalised and directed towards herself, it could alter the view she's taken of the world, and it would allow her to see her past trauma through a different lens, maybe with less subconscious self hatred.

Sorry this turned into a giant ramble haha, but thank you for the ask!

[distressxox]

DARLINGGGGG GUESS WHOS BACK FROM THE PYSCHE WARD!!

im currently brainrotting over agito as you can see..can you write how you think he would meet reader and how their relationship would develop into romance with him? like actually i sat at work for like 15 minutes trying to think how but i actually cannot cook anything up.

(Also I'm seeing the ghost stuff and I'm interested...gonna have to do research for dis one☝️)

sorry if i keep sending you silly asks😞

—🪡 anon

JOIN US WE HAVE SEXY POPES WHO DOUBLE AS FRONTMEN AND FREAKY GHOULS. Listen to them, I highly recommend listening to the meliora and prequelle album before delving any deeper. Watch some YouTube videos abt the lore. PLUS THEY HAVE LITTLE EPISODES <3

Time for some more Cakemaster 9000

Phew, this took a while

Kanoh Agito: How does he fall for you?

• Like what I mentioned in one of the headcanons, you work for Katahara. While Agito doesn't directly work for him apart from beint his representative fighter, he's technically his family AND The Fang.

• However, you two hardly see eachother when on the job. BUT-

• You two visit the same coffee shop. He loves his morning Latte, and you love (insert your favorite Cafe drink here)

• When you first started working, you were surprised to see the Kanoh Agito at a small coffee shop.

• He usually greets and addresses you formally, not interested in any small talk.

• "Sheesh, what a stick in the mud" It's not that he was trying to be rude, but he did come off a little condescending when he greeted you. (He has tone issues)

• One day you woke up late and didn't have time to stop and get your usual.

• He notices your absence. "They can't be sick, they showed no signs of it two days ago"

• Long story short, he picks up your order and goes looking for you. Once he finds you, he stiffly hands it to you. "You were late I presume. I picked this up for you"

• Everyone in the room was shocked. The cold hearted Fang buying someone a drink? You smiled warmly and looked into his eyes "Thank you, this was very kind of you"

• His breathing hitched, and he felt speechless. Was he....flustered? "Don't let it happen again, you work for the Chairman afterall"

• You obviously didn't let it happen again....buuuttt it was super sweet how he seemed to care about you enough to get you something.

• To return the favor, you arrived earlier and got him his Latte. Listen, he was speechless before, now he was in shock. He didn't show it though. In his lifetime no one had ever bought him anything or returned a favor. There was a first time for everything.

• You saw through his attempt to hide the baffled expression on his face. It was kinda- cute.

• "Why have you done this?" "Why not? I'm just repaying you" "I-" "Shush, just take the drink, it's burning my hand"

• He has to get there before you now to ensure that he sees you. He's a bit friendlier with the greetings, too. Don't expect a smile though, just a softer glance in your direction.

• When he was around you, he didn't feel like he needed to be The Fang of Metsudo. You didn't hold him to any higher standard when you chatted, you didn't bother holding back a few curses. He felt as if his soul was on Earth instead of hanging in the balance.

• On one of your off days, the two of you get coffee and sit down for once. Finally having a slower paced discussion. It lasted a few hours, you did most of the talking while he had a response to almost anything. There was a lot he didn't know about pop culture.

• Coffee dates became your thing, even though it wasn't technically a date. More like two friends hanging out. Discussions got into deeper topics like pasts and whatnot.

• Agito decided that he could trust you, so he opened up about the Human Gu Ritual. He didn't know what trauma was, so you explained to him that his feelings and memories about that time in his life would be very traumatic.

• "I'm glad you could tell me that, but are you okay? If I had something like that on my chest I'd cry" "I'm quite alright, I'm not fazed in the slightest but I had no idea the caliber of the topic. I hope I didn't ruin the conversation"

• You tapped your cheek and sighed. "Have you ever been hugged before?" Agito thought for a second. The embracing gesture? The only physical contact he's hand was a pat on the shoulder or when he's fighting.

• "No, I don't think I have" "Well today's your lucky day, bring it in"

• He froze as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into you. His heartbeat raced as he thought of what to do. "Just tell me if you don't like it" you squeezed him gently. He awkwardly put his hand behind your back and rested it there.

• You let go after a few seconds, but he didn't want you to. "How was it?" You smiled.

• "I'm not sure" He smoothed out his suit, trying to relax himself after what just happened.

• A few days passed and you haven't seen him anywhere. He wasn't at work or at the coffee shop. You start to worry. Did you drive him away? Was the hug too much? Oh god was he dead?

• All the while Agito was keeping an eye on you from afar. Not letting you see him, but he could see you. He felt very fragile after that day, he almost felt ashamed. He wasn't good at managing his emotions. And what happened moved him in a way that frightened him.

• He summons the courage to talk to Katahara Metsudo about how he felt. He was the only parental figure he had in a sense.

• "You are a grown man. Is this really a difficult concept to grasp?" Katahara looked out the window of his office. "I'm inexperienced, these feelings are foreign to me"

• 'He's not referring to himself as we and us anymore, this must be serious' Katahara turned around. "To put it simply" he laughed "Tell (Reader) everything you told me"

• "I have a strong regard for you" Agito came clean. You know how I said there was a first time for everything? Well he had a hint of red on his cheeks. This beast of a man, blushing? Utterly adorable

• "So you're saying you love me?" That's the word. Love. He nodded. "Well. Say it then. There's nothing holding you back"

• He pauses for a moment, he's not exactly fond of eye contact. But this was for (Reader)

• "I love you"

• You wrap your arms around his waist again. "That's all I needed to hear"

• His lips curled into a smile as he looked down at you. You parted from the hug and tilted your head to the side. "Wanna go out to a restaurant sometime?"

• "Are you asking me out on...what is it that they call it...a date?" "Yes" you stated bluntly. Beating around the bush or teasing wouldn't get far in this situation.

• "We can talk about plans later, I have important matters to attend to" he look your hand and grazed his lips on you knuckles. Planting a small kiss on it.

• "Now where did you learn that?" "It's a romantic gesture they do on television" you bite your lip from calling him a dork.

• "I'll meet with you later about this date. Until we see eachother again" He leaves, and you're alone again.

• Man, you're already falling for him. It's not like you'd hate dating him. But you didn't want to be head over heels just yet. You looked at your knuckles and sighed "Ah what the hell, being love isn't that bad"

[the-dixon-effect]

Daddy Issues

words: 1.1k

Nobody knew about your past.

Not even a bit. Your presence in Alexandria was regarded by the suburbanites as the disposition of a survivor, someone who had really been shaped by the cruel world outside the gates. Even the members of your own group, your family, didn't dare delve into the rocky landscape that was your life before the fall.

Despite the distinct mystery that followed you wherever you went, some could still sense the trauma you had ensued before. It was in the way you walked, the way you carried yourself, in your defensive impulses and your kind nature. And by 'some', this meant a certain archer who you had taken an interest in since the start.

Daryl Dixon was a man of few words, but since the beginning, you knew there had to be something else underneath his thick skin, a hidden treasure of sorts. And how right you were. You two remained by each other's side at all times, never once leaving the other in fear of losing them. If Daryl had lost you, oh God, he would have lost the one thing keeping him going, the light in his life, the oasis in the vast desert that was this harsh world. You had been so kind to him, and seeing you and your perfect smile was like medicine, and of course, he couldn't help but fall for you. He practically knew everything about you, or at least, he thought he did.

"Ya' alright?" he spoke. The two of you sat side-by-side in the front of a truck, heading out on a run. He had noticed your quietness and how it differed from your usual animated, cheerful manner. He rested both hands on the steering wheel and looked over at you. It had not been long since your father had died, out on a run, not unlike your current mission. Eaten alive by walkers, it was a terrible sight to witness for all involved, especially you, who remained silent for days after.

"I'm fine." Quite the opposite. Such a strange feeling, the man who had abused you your whole life, emotionally and physically, trapped you in the ghetto of Atlanta, and forced you to humiliate yourself to make a living, died at the hands of the new natural world? Did he get what he had coming? Did he deserve it all along? Were you supposed to be grateful, or satisfied? You always imagined that your father's death would feel like a gratifying weight lifted off your shoulders, but for some reason, you were never able to shake the trauma, the anxiety of it all. It was as if the world couldn't let you go, and you were being held hostage in your own dark memories.

Daryl might have been the most observant person you knew. You really thought you'd be able to keep the truth from him and he wouldn't know? Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let it all out. After all, if you were going to confess to anyone, it would have been him.

"I can tell you're not, ya know," he drawled.

"You remember my dad, right?" you spoke, softly and quietly. Even with his eyes fixed on the road, Daryl could sense that you were frowning.

"Ya, I remember tha' prick. Shoulda knocked him out while I had the chance." He also remembered your strong feelings against him, and how he had made a scene in the prison once by ordering you around with a less-than-polite tone. Daryl had obviously stepped in to defend you, which practically began your friendship. You thought of this often, and couldn't help but see Daryl as your protector from then on.

"Well, it's just that- I don't know, it's stupid," you began. "Can't stop thinking 'bout him. The way he died. It just- It seems wrong."

"Shit. I'm sorry, I shouldn't 've said-"

"No, it's okay. He was a horrible man." He was indeed, and though everybody shared your feelings about your father while he was with your old group, not one of them was aware of what he had done to you before the fall.

"There's- there's things I haven't told you. About him, and, about me." Daryl furrowed his brows. Of course he knew there must have been something deeper within your relationship with the man, but he never expected himself to be one whom you would share it with.

"It's alrigh'," he drawled. "Take your time."

"He hit me. All the time. Whenever he was mad or depressed or drunk, or even happy." The words came so easily, and you had underestimated how good it would feel to release some of this pressure build-up, especially to Daryl. Still, you couldn't help but let your eyes glass over as the memories came flooding back. You weren't sure, but despite the horrific things you had endured, it felt right to let it out for once.

He simply stared at you, and even with his brown hair falling over his eyes you could tell he was in shock. How could someone do something like that to you, the most beautiful person, in all ways, that he'd ever met?

"I'm- I'm so sorry Y/N. I never knew 'bout any of it," Daryl was at a loss for words.

"You wanted to know what I did before the world went to shit?" you paused for a moment, understanding that right now, you could not take any of this back.

"I was a- I was-" tears began to stain your cheeks. "I had to- I was a hooker." Silence.

Shit. How could he maintain a friendship with you after that? You were in total disbelief at your confession. Things will never go back to the way they were, you thought.

You sat there, shaking in your seat, forgetting where you were and paying no attention to your surroundings.

It was true, every part of it. You had been a hooker living in the hood of Atlanta before the fall, and you hated it. Every part of it. But there was no escape from the ghetto, and the route you had chosen to survive was safer and steadier than a life of crime. Still, every day you dreamt of a man who could take care of you, love you for your mind and soul, somebody to treat you right. Had you been shaped by the apocalypse, or had you always been like this?

"It's okay. I'm gon' take care of you. Ya don't have to worry 'bout anythin'." Daryl's soft words came like the arrival of the man you had always imagined late at night. You didn't need a man, of course you didn't. But Daryl, maybe you needed him.

[gachagon]

This post delves heavily into Kaiser's backstory that was revealed in recent chapters of Blue Lock. The following content has graphic depictions of child abuse and neglect, so please don't click if that is something that is triggering for you.

I'll be honest and say that i was one of the few people who just originally assumed Kaiser was this rich pompous kid like Reo who's parents probably just neglected him because they were so rich, which is WHY he spends so much time trying to not only be the best but look the best.

But now that we know the truth, and that he actually had what is arguably the WORST childhood out of any of the Blue Lock boys, I think this backstory makes far more sense than what I originally thought.

Kaiser has always been one of the most egotistical players on the field, and I don't think he's ever had moments where he genuinely doubts himself outside of when he's trying to beat Isagi. But we never knew where that ego came from and why he's so hellbent on surpassing everyone. I definitely think growing up in a poverty stricken abusive household with a parent who cares nothing for you would definitely morph your sense of identity into something more than a healthy level of egotism.

And here we can even see an explanation for how Kaiser and Ness got such an unhealthy codependent relationship from the jump. It's not Ness that's the "problem" it's Kaiser (Shocking turn of events wow) Kaiser used soccer as an emotional outlet from the abuse his father subjected him too, but it's the only thing he really has to ground him since he has always been hyper-independent from early childhood.

Kaiser's backstory is interesting because unlike the other Blue Lock boys who's main issue was that they were either too good for soccer, or that the people they played soccer with couldn't keep up, Kaiser's issue was that he ONLY had soccer.

He had no one to compete with and no one to befriend, and his only way of dealing with his home life is by playing alone.

I think this really explains why he treats Ness like a grounding tool or someone to satiate his own ego and worries. He's literally not used to having friends like everyone else, and the one person he did befriend is just as socially stunted as he is. So their relationship just became toxic the more they obsessed over their own personal goals. Kaiser's goal is to become the best, and Ness' goal is to see Kaiser become the best, but when faced with road blocks in their goals they don't know how to handle it all and they immediately end up spiraling.

Kaiser also just doesn't have any healthy coping mechanisms outside of soccer because it is both his goal and his reason for living. So when someone like Isagi who's just an enigma to him stops him in his tracks from being able to succeed, he doesn't have anything after that. If soccer is his coping mechanism but it is also tied into his goals, he can't play it to 'feel better' because it'll just remind him of how he lost or how he's not as good as he should be right now.

I think this panel also explains his whole "choking" thing that Ness walked in on. Now that we also know the origin of the blue rose as well, I find it to be really sad that this symbol of the impossible has been revealed to be tied so heavily with the abuse he faced as a child. It makes the scene where he's choking himself seem less like him trying to "focus" more like he went to also punish himself for being "inadequate".

Even in the panels above where his dad is literally choking him for no reason, his father is telling him how he is worthless and useless etc. It definitely puts into perspective his mindset when he was harming himself.

All this to say that Kaiser has internalized his trauma to a dangerous degree if the current state of his mind is anything to go off of.

[perfecttragedyraspberry]

Personally I think they should add some kick, some drive back into the SMG34 ship. Like add some angst, trauma, fights that last over multiple episodes. So here is my rant.

Personally for me, I really want them to delve into SMG4's trauma with IGBP because there's no way in fucking hell he doesn't have struggles from that still. Or even just moments where he's pained wit what happened and what he did to people. Even if they have forgiven him, add some interesting angst to him. Or give him an obstacle that forces him to recollect IGBP or reface those very emotions he felt during that time.

Then with SMG3, as much as I love the silly character he is now. I want to see more of his struggles. In the movies he has been in it's not like he's had to like grow from his actions or in actions. Unless we count when he went to save 4 and Mario at puzzlepark, or 4 in IGBP. But even in smaller episodes it feels like when he does have growth it's not touched upon. And no I don't want them to spoon-feed fans characterizations, but I want more of a focus on a change on the characters as episodes go further. Personally I want a movie around him as his struggles and maybe have him do it with some of the nonmain cast. Put an obstacle in his way to make him get either a traumatic experience or something that makes it hard for him to act as he usually does.

SMG3 is such an interesting character if we want to look at him being a rival. I guess they aren't much anymore but normally the more angsty codes rival gets beat down on time and time again making them come to terms with some new emotions or trauma. We haven't really seen much of that lately in the last few years. As much as I love him being silly in the cafe, make it an apparent issue of why the cafe is something important to show how far he's come. Or anything else really. In a sense I kinda want him to get the shadow treatment but obviously not in the same way. Like why is it not covered more on why he feels lesser than 4? That is such an interesting thing to consider that the have not really delved into. And I really don't understand why they aren't. Its something they could really use to open up his character and then make him falter or face some obstacles. Why are they letting this go to waste? Please I just want him to get a little fucked over.

Maybe I'm just an English major looking to hard into characters, but fuck I want my favs to get some interesting stories again. Not that I don't like they're current stories, I think they deserve a little trauma as a treat.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

(Appreciate you not adding usernames, thank you) I wanted to know, if possible, if you have any insight on the experiences of Holocaust refugees from Poland after the war (specifically in the 1945-1948 period) who ended up what is now known as Israel. There’s just a lot of noise now that’s hard to parse. Apologies at how vague this is - I suppose I’m wondering specifically about reception there, their struggle to leave Poland, and how large or small of a demographic they are in the Israeli population? (I admit I have a personal interest too - my grandmother was one of the few who was brought to Canada after 1945, but a fellow survivor she became friends with did not)

Keep in mind that this answer is based on my readings of memoirs and histories which are not about Holocaust survivors in the Southern Levant, and tend to only delve into those issues in their final pages.

Before the Holocaust, the European Jewish population of Mandatory Palestine, or, the Yishuv, had a very...tough, machismo-type culture and vibe; very big into the language of pioneers and imagery of the American West (early 20th century Europeans were OBSESSED with the American West).

The leaders of the Yishuv were pretty powerless during the Holocaust, and failed to truly grasp the enormity of it. Thus, when Polish survivors starting rolling up in '45, the Yishuv thought that their trauma was "weak" and "feminine" and shameful. They didn't see the strength they so valorized in their own nascent national identity, and they couldn't grasp what right these civilians had to wake up screaming every night.

At the same time, they grasped at people like my girl Zivia--a leader of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising--and tried to make them into national symbols of Jewish valor, while still ignoring, and in some cases, enhancing, their trauma.* That's part of why Zivia and her husband Yitzhak founded their own kibbutz.

It's arguable that Israeli society failed to truly grasp the magnitude of the Holocaust until the Eichmann trial in 1961.

*See Yitzhak Zuckerman's A Surplus of Memory to read all about his feuds with David Ben-Gurion and Yad Vashem.

[stuffforme2]

Okay listen I lvoe the pjo books and series with all ym heart but.. everyone talks about them like they're perfect WHICH THEYRE NOT any problems are kinda brushed under the rug and I find thst kinda werid? Like you'll see other books and TV shows get dragged and canceled for the stuff in Riordan books and yet pjo doesn't?? So.. uhhHHHH yeah that's jsut something I noticed.

The weird relationshipd ynamics. Rick is like allergic to someone bring okay with being single or jsut aromantic like you can say Reyna but her having a crush kn Jason?? Yes she rejected Apollo but her relationship with Jason deterioted brcuz she had a 'crush' on the guy and that doesn't really amke sense to me (I can go into so much detail kn this)

AND LEO AND CALYPSO OMFG that is a toxic relationship. The age gap. The way calypso treats Leo. The fact Leo SHOULD NOT be with someone like this man hasn't dealt with his attachment and Abandonment issues like st all?!

The literal only black character in the pjo books being beckendorf.. then he dies. Then the Korean/Asian (I'm not sure sorry) character dies, Ethan. And like I understand Percy is hinted st being Hispanic (have seen many ppl talk about this dont mnow if it's common knowldhe) but it's never confirmed or added??? I know Rick fixes it later but it's still weird to me lmaoo

Rick unable to keep consistent personality. Woobigying Nico OH MY GOD NICO HE BECOMES GAY AND THSTS WHDT EVERYONE FUCKING FOCUSES ON AND HE SHOULD'VE NEVER GOTTEN WITH WILL ATLWAST NOT THAT QUICK it's not healthy. Their relationship was rushed and didn't make sense I felt like people only like ot becuz it's a gay relationship??

And oh mygods— Samirah. I am not Muslim and I am not an expert on the Nuslim religion but there is so much shitbthatbeas wrong in thst book that I even knew was incorrect and jsut weird to happen?! The AMOUNT OF TIMES HER HIJAB CAME OFF and I'm also like "yaayyyy representation" but it could've been as easy as one Google search. one.

Jason. Jason as a whole. He had the most potential out of ANYONE and personally I think he had more potential then Percy like his story is so INTERESTING and then.. Rick knocked him iut with a brick multiple times, didn't work kn his sotry or trauma at all, then KILLED HIM. Same with Ethan. I am so Vitter about these two.. HELL EVEN LEO AND FRANK.

Also the way he made Annabeth first quest (first quest SHE IS LEADING AND IS HER PROHECY) all about Percy. I was reading it and I was like "bitxh— this is Annabeth Quest?!" LIKE he it pissed me off that Annabeth was swept to rhe side as Percy's lvoe interest giving her knly enough personality and stary to make her jnteredting enough to eb loved but never delving jntk it into Mark kf Athena and even at Mark of Athena it all rounded back tk her and Percy's relationship LIKE JESUS CHRIST DO THESE MFERS PASS THE BELLDAN TEST?!

The low key incest at the beginning ricj writing that all the demigods had the same impish features at rhe start and then.. jsut.. CHSNGING IT?!

Not letting a virgin goddess who has no history of having children have.. children.. NOW you may be wondering 'but then how would we get Annabeth?'— JUST GiVE ATHENA HER FAVOURITE CHOSEN PPL LIKE SHE DID WITH ODYSSEUS let her stay childless. Jsut let her choose some children she'd like as hers wonce they're Bron and she then blesses them as her heroes, that's how she treats them any way and it also gets rid of the incest?!

Also the fact it's implied that Annabeth is only smart becuz she's a child of Athena.. Rick made a virgin goddess technically have children so he can have a smart women character and that's just.. EuGGHHhHHh JUST LET HER BE SMART IT NOT THAT HARD "Oh, no, I'm not smart because Athena chose me.. Athena chose me because I was already smart" Smacks you with common fucking sense.

Also Annabeth ALWAYS needing to eb saves and its always done by a man. OMFG AND GROVES GF DHE HAS NO PERSONALITY OUTSIDE OF BEING SOEM GUSY GF EVEN THOUGH HES GONE FOR MKNTHS AND BAREKY CONTAXTS HER?!

The whole apheodite cabin. The whole aphrodite cabin. The whole aphrodite cabin.

The fact it's clear Rick doesn't think girly girls cant be strong or into fighting or able to wield a fuckign weapon. The way he makes nearly every girly girl into a total mean bitch or ruins their characters.

[l-in-the-light]

New masterpost!

Welcome to my completely normal, not-Law obssessed tumblr! Oh who am I kidding, you're probably peeking here also for more Law, in that case, enjoy!

I usually write One Piece meta, because this is what I enjoy doing the most. So far I have these blasphemies yappings to offer (I keep this list mostly for myself, but it lists all of my analysis posts, answered asks and useful tags to navigate easier towards interesting topics):

Trafalgar Law and his fear of touch and closeness (analysis):

A very scrutinizing look at Law's traumas as a result of his childhood. Seems he has some triggers that kick him into PTSD reactions, especially relating touch:

Law's fear of being touched and touching others - I reccommend starting from this one, this is part 1

Law's closeness with Luffy

Law's closeness with Doflamingo's Family

Law's rare friendships (Kinemon, Heart Pirates, Wolf) - I recommend reading part 2 before reading this one, or right after. They're kinda complementing each other.

Law's reasons of avoiding closeness and friendships (a theory) - only read it after all the previous ones. It involves quite a bit of speculation that might spoiler you future manga developments. I might be wrong with my predictions, but feel warned!

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read:

The fish (scrutinizing analysis and interpretation of every Law and Luffy's interaction in the manga, I will prove my point that they're absolutely embarrassing in how much they like each other, you're free to interpret it as romantic or not):

Punk Hazard part 1 / Punk Hazard part 2 / Punk Hazard part 3 / Post-Punk Hazard part 4 / Dressrosa part 5 / Dressrosa part 6 / Dressrosa part 7 / Dressrosa part 8 / Dressrosa part 9 / Zou part 10 / Zou part 11 / Whole Cake Island part 12 / Wano part 13 / Bonus part - Law staring at Luffy

The fishing rod: (the tool theory allowing you to go and fish the treasure by yourself. And do go and fish, because I want to read even more embarrassing posts about Lawlu and other ships!)

About pirates and their treasure (a theory) - everything related to the theory is located in this tag: Love is a hurricane.

(more under cut!)

More character studies about Tragalgar Law:

About Law's rumoured bad manners and rudeness

Luffy and Law's similarities in expressions, behaviour and beliefs

Law didn't know about kids in Punk Hazard

Law's weakness for cute things explained (includes many examples and reasons for this softspot of his)

Law's poor self-esteem (with evidence!) and a bonus: Does Law think of himself as handsome or sexy?

Analysis of Law's quote "pirates doing good things repulse me" (fair warning, it's a long one, I delved deep into his psychology here, because I think it's fun)

Trafalgar Law and his surprising fondness of animals (mini-analysis)

Did Law drink this sake or not?!

Why is Law complaining about being ordered around in Wano? (very scrutinizing analysis of his dynamics with Kid and Luffy, and also small acknowledgment of Doflamingo's influence on Law)

Analysis of Corazon and Law's relationship (answers the question of why and whether Law is more dedicated to Cora-san than to Heart Pirates)

Why is Law so grumpy in Wano, can't he relax for a moment?! (short answer: he can't, he carries the whole raid on his back)

Would Law join the Revolutionary Army? (analysis of Revolutionary Army and how Dragon manages it, comparison between Law's and Dragon's possible goals and way of doing things. Since we don't know much about RA this counts as partial theory)

How would Law celebrate his birthday? (this kinda turned into meta fanfiction, enjoy, haha)

Analysis of Law's relationship with his Heart Pirates (100% Hearts appreciation post, I collected most scenes with them together ❤)

Analysis about other One Piece characters and relationships:

A funny tale (a short retelling of Shanks and Buggy going seperate ways in Logue Town from Shanks POV) - just for fun and feels tbh.

Analysis of Shanks and Buggy's talk about their future from chapter 19

Analysis of Katakuri and Luffy's similarities: part 1 (Luffy vs Katakuri and how they're reflections of each other) / part 2 (includes analysis of relationship between Katakuri and Brulee) / bonus thoughts

My various One Piece theories:

About the Red Line and the All Blue

About pirates and their treasures (probably not what you're expecting)

About Law's future development after Wano (warning for potential spoilers, in case I got it right)

13 Strawhats theory (just sharing hints)

About significance of Inherited Will (based on Japanese concepts of On and Giri)

Theory about future of Stussy after Egghead

Could Corazon be possibly alive? (this probably counts as a crazy theory, but there are some sus hints scattered around in the story and I shared some in this series of reblogs)

Link to my list of One Piece tags

My fanfiction:

Misadventures of Law with the Strawhats (slice of life, slight Lawlu but it's a "blink and you will miss it" category really)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (the final part)

Feel free to send me asks! ✨

If anyone wants to send me an ask, be it about some serious topic to analyze or something just for fun, please don't hold back! I promise I will do my best to answer thoroughly (it might take a few days tho or even weeks, if I get a lot of asks at once, but I will definitely answer every single one of them!). I reserve myself the right to not answer asks that are rude ofc.

You might want to check the my asks tag and Trafalgar Law's love life tag as well, because I might have answered the thing you want to ask about already (or simply peek there to get inspired what to ask me next :D).

[thesummerpetsalamander]

Don’t get me wrong, I’m living for Frenchie and Colin but I wish they’d explored a different aspect of Frenchies back story this season. like how he finally escaped from his dad (did he kill him in the end or run away?) or being homeless and having to become a prostitute to survive when he first came to the states.

I’m also convinced that Frenchies dad actually killed his mom but he’s blocked it out due to trauma. If they went down that route then that would have been an interesting way of linking his and Colin’s storyline.

THISSSSSSSS!!!!!!

when little nina mentioned his abusive father, and when he mentioned turning tricks’ in a flashback, i instantly wanted to know so much more about his backstory. those were two story arcs that were already set up for him to explore! but instead we get him and colin, which feels a bit rushed and kind of pointless anyway since we know nothing about colin. we know frenchie is going to lose colin, there’s no way this will work out. but we don’t care if he loses colin because colin has no emotional weight on the story. maybe if we got to see colin and frenchie’s relationship develop from the start we’d care more about them, but it was thrown at us just for it to be taken away immediately in an attempt to force the audience to pity frenchie. but we already know frenchie feels regret for his kills. i want to see how other aspects of his past shape him as a person.

we could still delve into frenchie’s guilt for being a hitman — but let’s explore what drove him to become a hitman. like you said, anon, did he have to kill his dad to finally be free? did this + turning tricks in america make him feel like the only thing he was good for was his body — his physical form, only made to please or hurt others, only made to follow commands. we see how he yearns for true individual freedom, but he struggles so much to actually free himself from those who hold the end of his chain. why is that? why does he not let himself to decide his own fate when that is all he wants? does he not trust himself — after a life of listening to others, does he not feel he can think for himself? does he think that if he tries to make his own decisions he’ll fuck up, so he only lets himself do what others tell him? or does he think he doesn’t deserve it — after killing so many people, does he think he deserves to be kept on a short chain for his sins?

frenchie is SUCH an interesting character, and they could be doing so much more with him. i’ve loved how they’ve explored his character over the past three and a half seasons, but i wish they would keep going further. clearly he has issues with his perception of his own autonomy. how did an abusive, controlling father affect this? anon, if your theory about his father killing his mother is true (it makes sense to me), how would that knowledge affect frenchie? how did turning tricks to survive in america impact his own self image and worth. how does selling his body for survival — first as a prostitute, then as a weapon — affect his perception of autonomy and identity? who does frenchie think frenchie is? these are all the paths i want to be explored with his character. if the writers wont do it, give me the pen.

all my kudos to the writers and the actor for creating such a great character. to leave the audience wondering more about your character like this is a compliment — it means we’re invested and we want to see more!!

also anon, feel free to message me to talk more about the show!! having the boys brainrot rn and id love to discuss it. or you can keep sending anons!