#due to some serious overstepping on here. so that might also explain why i come across as more cool and distant than i want.

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 6

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

ONE WEEK LATER

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE COURTYARD

Swinging the wooden blade with a firm grip, Sigurd sent Edric stumbling backwards as the other man lost hold of his sword and collapsed to the ground, bringing their fight to a close.

At the moment, they were engaging in a friendly spar in the middle of the courtyard and spending the morning away from their noble duties, hoping to catch a minute of peace.

Things had calmed down somewhat ever since Sigurd first arrived at Forangal, and most of the people seemed to have finally accepted that their new friend wasn’t going anywhere soon, but Edric feared tensions would only rise again with the upcoming visit of one of the local thegns.

Due to the surprising increase of Dane activity in Wedenscire recently, Ealdorman Aegenwulf had called upon one of his old friends -- a man by the name of Raedan -- and summoned him to the castle for an official meeting.

Apparently, Raedan was one of the strongest thegns in the shire -- in addition to being one of the most respected -- and held quite a reputation for battling his fair share of vikings. He resided in a peaceful corner of England’s countryside nowadays with his wife and two children, but his sword was never out of arm’s reach.

The man sounded like a warrior just based on what Edric had told Sigurd so far. He may have been an Anglo-Saxon at heart, but it was clear that he didn’t share the diplomatic methods of his fellow thegns. 

He often favored taking the more aggressive approach when it came to confronting vikings, and considering how much this war was taking a turn for the worse, Sigurd only assumed that Aegenwulf had called for his aid out of sheer desperation.

Was there another clan he wished to wipe out? Did he plan to carry out a second assault? Or was there something else brewing beneath the surface, waiting to erupt? He supposed only time would tell.

“Ah...!” Edric panted, worn out from the fight. “You beat me again! I knew Norse warriors were strong, but... my goodness. You fight with the wrath of God Himself...!”

Sigurd smirked, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “You do yourself a disservice, Edric. For a man of your age, you are not so gentle either.”

The nobleman chuckled. “You are kind, but it’s evident to me that I must polish some of my skills. The trainers we have here in Forangal -- they’ve taught me nothing of true battle. Most of them treat me like a doll. They fear that I’ll break if they hit me too hard.”

“Then they are also doing you a disservice. Real war will not coddle you. They are only setting you up for defeat.”

Edric nodded in agreement. “I suppose they are, aren’t they? Or perhaps they’re just afraid of what my father will do if they whack me over the head too firmly. I know plenty of them have received an earful from other lords whose sons ran crying to them when they ended up with a black eye. Well, fortunately for me, I have you here now. Maybe you can change things.”

Sigurd reached a hand out. “I think I already have. Unless, of course, your bishop is always this irate.”

The young man sighed deeply, allowing his friend to pull him up. “Hundwerth still hasn’t gotten over it, has he? I swear, you’d think the Devil himself pissed in his ale with how he constantly behaves. I hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sigurd replied. “I have dealt with many other Saxons like him before. I am no stranger to his type.”

“No, I imagine you aren’t. Still, I wish he’d treat you with more civility. You have yet to give us any reason to distrust you, and frankly, Hundwerth is only making things worse in the castle with his incessant arguing. But, I digress...”

Patting his clothes clean of any dirt, Edric retrieved his fallen sword and neatly placed it back on the rack, eager to have a rest.

“Thank you for training with me today, Sigurd. I know it’s not technically your decision whether or not you get to spend time with me, but I am still grateful for your company. I realize this past week has been difficult for you.”

The viking smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Out of all the people in Forangal, you and your siblings have been the most hospitable. It’s a great relief to have you around.”

Edric beamed at the compliment. “I’m glad to hear it. Though, I fear things will only get more difficult from now on, what with the upcoming arrival of Thegn Raedan.”

Sigurd crossed his arms. “Remind me, when is he coming?”

“If things go according to plan, he and his family should be here by tomorrow morning. They were supposed to be here today, but from what I understand, they were held up by some... ‘complications.’ Details are vague, but it’s pretty clear that Danes were involved.”

“What makes you say that?”

Edric took on a more serious tone. “Keep this between us, but I overheard Raedan’s messenger say that they spotted a group of Danes lurking in the woods north of Agenbury. They didn’t attack anyone, but their presence was enough for Raedan to delay the journey for one night. It doesn’t sound like anything urgent -- yet -- but I’d be lying if I said the news didn’t have me on edge.”

Sigurd paused for a moment. “Agenbury? That’s just outside of Forangal. Is it normal for Danes to be so close?”

“Apart from you? No. Sometimes, we’ll get the occasional straggler wandering about these parts, but it’s rare to see an entire pack of them traveling together like that. And unlike your situation, I didn’t get the impression that these Danes were here by accident. It makes me wonder what they’re really doing here.”

The viking furrowed his brow on thought. “I agree, that does sound odd.”

Edric shrugged in a casual manner. “Well, if we do end up having any trouble with them, perhaps you could try to smooth things over. I realize that not all Danes are bound by camaraderie as some Saxons would believe, but still, it’d be a better chance than one of our people approaching them.”

Sigurd wasn’t so sure. “Hmm. Possibly. Or... it could just make things even worse.”

“How do you mean?”

“Many Danes have a mutual hatred for your people,” Sigurd explained. “They would treat you with the same animosity that Hundwerth has treated me. If they see a Norse such as myself defending you, they might see it as betrayal.”

Edric nodded in understanding. “Ah. I see. I suppose that’s to be expected. Danes have a strong sense of loyalty, do they not?”

The Norse grinned at the understatement. “Oh, yes. We do, indeed. Especially among our clans. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for our own people, and that gives us strength.”

“What about your clan?” Edric asked, bringing the other man to a halt. “I know you said you travel alone nowadays, but... you must’ve had one before, right? What happened to them? Why did you leave?”

Sigurd hesitated for a second, trying not to dwell on the grief that still racked his heart. 

“I... didn’t leave.” He clarified, his voice much softer now. “They were killed. All of them. Including my brother. It’s possible that some could have survived, but if they did... I’ve yet to find them. The rest of us have simply... scattered to the winds.”

Edric picked up on the man’s pain, suddenly feeling the urge to console him. 

“...I’m sorry.” He said, resting a hand on Sigurd’s arm. “It seems that the cruelties of this war know no boundaries. I only hope that, one day, we may see the sun rise in the morning without having to fear whether or not we’ll see it set.”

The Norseman shared his sentiment. “As do I. Perhaps then we will finally know true peace.”

Trailing off into silence, Sigurd placed his sword down and stared blankly into the distance, mindlessly gravitating towards Edric’s comforting gaze.

He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something... new in the nobleman’s eyes; a subtle glint of fondness. He seemed to be drawn to his viking counterpart and looked at him in a manner similar to the way Randvi once did, and if Sigurd didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Edric was... infatuated with him.

But... no. He had to be mistaken. Sigurd knew how much stricter the Saxons were when it came to men fancying other men, and even though Edric had butted heads with Hundwerth in the past, it was still quite clear that he lived his life according to God’s word. There was no way he would’ve allowed himself to develop such feelings.

Though, despite his reluctance to admit it, Sigurd couldn’t hide the fact that a part of him shared Edric’s affection. The nobleman was rather handsome in the viking’s opinion, and with every day he spent accompanying the young lord around the castle, he found it harder to deny how he truly felt.

But even then, Sigurd was aware that he had to control his thoughts. He was nothing more than a servant to Aegenwulf and his family, and it was not his place to engage in such a relationship with one of his masters. He had just started to gain the ealdorman’s trust after days of keeping his head down, and he did not wish to besmirch himself now.

“I, um...” Sigurd said awkwardly, clearing his throat, “I think we should... return to our duties.”

Edric snapped back to reality and swiftly pulled his hand away, suddenly wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries.

“Oh, right...!” He blurted out sheepishly. “Of course. Forgive me.”

The young man turned away from Sigurd, knotting his hands together in embarrassment.

“Erm, p-perhaps we could retire to the kitchen for now? I hear that Nelda’s in the process of making a fresh batch of soul cakes. You should try one. I think you’d like them. They’re quite good at this--”

“--Lone Wolf!”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, both Sigurd and Edric turned to the side when a third voice abruptly barged into the scene, shattering the calm nature of the courtyard with their gruff bellowing.

“...Algar.” Sigurd said lowly, glaring at their guest. “What do you want?”

The housecarl dismissed the viking’s question and approached Edric, throwing a nonchalant smirk at him.

“You ought to teach your new pet some manners, my lord. He doesn’t learn his place soon enough, he’s bound to get hurt.”

Edric crossed his arms, instantly switching to a more assertive temperament. “Sigurd is not some dog to be led around on a leash, Algar. He is a man, just like you and me. And I expect him to be treated as such. Now, I believe he asked you a question.”

Algar chuckled at the young man’s defiance and brought his attention back to Sigurd, pointing a finger at him.

“You. Come with me. The ealdorman wants to see you.”

“What for?”

Algar shrugged. “Does it matter? Just come along.”

Sigurd didn’t budge just yet. “Forgive me if I’m somewhat hesitant. I only want to make sure I’m not walking into a potential execution like the last time you dragged me around the castle.”

Edric joined in. “I would also like to know the reason. Is everything alright with my father?”

The housecarl sighed, resting a foot on a nearby stump as he spoke. “There’s no need to worry your pretty little face, young lord. Ealdorman Aegenwulf merely has concerns about the Dane activity in Wedenscire, and wants to know if your bodyguard here is connected to it.”

The nobleman glanced at Sigurd. “...Are you suggesting he’s betrayed us?”

Algar shook his head. “In order for one to be a traitor, one must first be a friend. I don’t think Sigurd can exactly call himself that yet. Do you?”

Sigurd stepped between Algar and Edric, tired of the housecarl’s games.

“Enough running around in circles. If you have questions to ask of me, ask. I have nothing to hide.”

The other man smiled darkly. “...You sure about that, Lone Wolf? I suppose we’ll see soon enough, won’t we? Well then, right this way.” 

Removing his foot from the stump, Algar promptly turned on his heel and began making his way out of the courtyard, beckoning Sigurd to follow him with a simple wave. Before the viking could leave however, Edric quickly grabbed the man’s arm and held him back for a moment, whispering a few words of caution in his ear.

“...Be careful, Sigurd. I don’t like where this is going.”

The older man nodded. “Have no fear, my lord. I won’t let my guard down.”

“Good. Don’t. I’d like for you to return to me in one piece.”

“I’ll be alright, Edric. Do not worry about me.”

A light laugh escaped the Saxon’s lips. “A task much easier said than done, I’m afraid. But I suppose it’s out of my hands now. If my father has summoned you, it’s best not to keep him waiting. Go on. I’ll see you afterwards.”

Deciding to let it go for now, Edric released his friend -- albeit somewhat reluctantly -- and allowed the Norse to follow in Algar’s footsteps, leaving him alone in the courtyard. 

He didn’t know if the housecarl’s intentions were sincere, or if there was some sort of ulterior motive lurking in the background, but regardless of whatever the case was, Edric had to admit that he felt uncomfortable leaving Sigurd alone with him.

The man was a snake. Everyone knew it. Despite his gargantuan size, Algar often clung to the shadows like a thief and slithered his way around words, twisting people’s minds as if they were nothing more than toys for him to play with. He molded people with their own fear, and broke them to the point of no return.

He was technically bound to Aegenwulf’s command, but Edric had no doubts he would harm Sigurd if he felt it necessary. Algar seemed to operate based on his own code, and that put the nobleman on edge.

Letting out a sigh, Edric returned to his duties and pushed his thoughts away for the moment, deciding to carry on with his morning. Even though he was concerned about Sigurd’s well-being, he knew it was no longer within his control to determined what happened to him. That man’s fate was in Aegenwulf’s hands now, and Edric would just have to hope for the best.

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

ALGAR’S CHAMBERS

Stepping into the dimly-lit room, Sigurd felt a sense of alarm settling into his chest as he followed Algar into his quarters, flicking his eyes around in nervousness.

Contrary to what he expected, Aegenwulf was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs that the ealdorman had been there recently, and just based on the housecarl’s laid-back demeanor, Sigurd assumed he wouldn’t be showing up anytime soon.

He glanced around the room and placed his hands on his hips, shrugging at Algar.

“Where’s the ealdorman?” Sigurd asked in an accusatory tone. “I thought you said he wanted to see me.”

The other man scoffed, shutting the door behind them. “Aegenwulf is irrelevant to this conversation. This... is between you and me.”

“...So you lied.”

Algar strode over to his end table and grabbed the pitcher that sat on its surface, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“I did only what was necessary. I knew Edric would never free you into my grasp if he was aware we’d be alone.” 

The Saxon turned to face Sigurd, taking a sip from his goblet. “It seems the young lord has grown fond of you. I have to admit, that’s an outcome even I wasn’t expecting.”

Sigurd leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. “You didn’t expect me to survive Ravensthorpe either.”

Algar grinned. “True enough. I suppose you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

The viking grew impatient. “What is this about, Algar? Why have you brought me here?”

The housecarl remained silent for a moment and simply drank more of his wine, allowing his thoughts to realign themselves before firmly setting the cup back down on the table.

“...Who did you tell?” He finally asked, leaving Sigurd in a state of confusion.

“What? Who did I tell about what?”

Algar shot him a fierce glare. “Oh, spare me the act. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told someone about the attack on Ravensthorpe, didn’t you? Well, who was it? Who was your contact? Where are they now?”

Sigurd shook his head in frustration. “You’re spewing nonsense, Saxon. No one in Forangal besides you and Aegenwulf knows about Ravensthorpe. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The housecarl prowled towards the Norseman. “Is that so? Then explain to me why there’s a group of Danes in Wedenscire at this very moment investigating the ambush. I assume you heard about Thegn Raedan’s delay? Well, he postponed his journey because of these Danes. And coincidentally, they happen to be near Agenbury. The same town you first visited.”

“How am I supposed to know? Not all Danes have a connection with each other.”

“No, but as I said before, they are specifically investigating the ambush in Ravensthorpe. And on top of that, my scouts also report that they originate from East Anglia -- one of the kingdoms allied with your clan. You expect me to believe that this has nothing to do with you?”

Sigurd sighed, already growing weary of the man’s obstinacy.

“How would I even get the word out? I’m trapped in a castle full of Saxons who would see me dead if they knew my true identity. What, you think I just strolled up to someone and asked for their aid? Don’t be foolish.”

Algar formed his own conclusion. “Well, if you didn’t tell anyone, then that means someone outside of Wedenscire knows about the attack.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in resentment. “Perhaps you weren’t as thorough as you thought. There could be other survivors.”

The housecarl narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose you expect me to believe that these ‘survivors’ have yet to try to reach you?”

“What I have to say means nothing. You’ve clearly made up your mind.”

Algar let out a breath, deciding to drop the subject for now. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to get any information out of Sigurd with this method, and unlike other prisoners, he didn’t have the option of dragging him to the torture chambers. He’d have to think of another approach.

“Fine,” he said plainly. “Keep your secrets, Norse. I will learn the truth eventually, whether you like it or not. In the meantime, see to it that you stick to your duties. If you give me even the smallest reason to suspect betrayal, I will not hesitate to strike you down.”

The Saxon walked over to the door and yanked it open, gesturing for Sigurd to leave.

“Now, get out of here. I have much that I must attend to.”

Pushing himself off the wall, Sigurd gladly removed himself from Algar’s chambers and headed for the exit, eager to take his leave. 

Just before he could step through the entrance though, a sudden thought crossed his mind and stopped him in his tracks, causing him to glance over his shoulder as he asked one last thing.

“Before I go,” he said despondently, lingering in the doorway, “I need to know -- what exactly did you do to Eivor? How... how did my brother die?”

Algar’s signature smirk returned upon hearing the question and he leaned against the frame, causing the wood to creak.

“Still hurting, are we? You need to let him go, love. He’s not coming back.”

The viking glowered at him. “You think I don’t know that? I know he’s dead. I know my home is gone. But I need to know what happened to him. I need to know whether he died a warrior’s death.”

The Saxon tilted his head in a taunting fashion. “...Your brother died gracefully, Sigurd. He died in a bed of flowers surrounded by his family, and asked me to tell you that he always loved you. We shipped him off on a boat of fire, and soon after, the Valkyries brought him to Valhalla. Now, he feasts and drinks in your name at Odin’s side, waiting for you to join him as he prepares for the Twilight of the Gods. A true warrior’s paradise.”

Sigurd clenched his jaw in hatred, having to restrain himself from attacking Algar right then and there. He knew the man was only trying to rile him up, but the pain of Eivor’s loss remained deep in his heart, and he couldn’t help but feel a certain rage boiling inside him.

“...Your time will come, Algar,” Sigurd practically growled, his voice barely above a whisper. “And when it does, I’ll be there, standing over you and smiling down at your mutilated corpse as the light flickers from your eyes.”

Algar was hardly fazed by the threat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lone Wolf. Run along, now. I’m sure Lord Edric is eager to see you.”

Calming himself down, Sigurd simply turned away from the housecarl without saying another word and stormed off into the distance, not even bothering to acknowledge the prying eyes of the Saxons who stood outside.

He knew it was unwise to let his anger run free in such a manner, but in spite of all his attempts to stifle it, Sigurd’s wrath only seemed to burn brighter with each passing day. There was a feeling of hopelessness that he just couldn’t shake off, and with Algar constantly fanning the flames of his grief, part of him feared that he would no longer be able to contain it.

He was only human, after all, and he had his limits just like everyone else. But for the sake of not jeopardizing his relationship with Aegenwulf and his family, Sigurd forced himself to hold it back.

He was already short on friends in this godforsaken castle, and considering the fact that yet another thegn was soon to be in their midst, Sigurd knew it would be foolish to betray the ealdorman’s trust at such an early time.

The Nornir put him on this path for a reason, and regardless of any struggles he may have had to endure along the way, Sigurd decided to put his faith in their judgement for now. 

They were the only ones guiding his hand in this obscure land, and he did not wish to defy their plans.

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT EVENING

IN THE WOODS OUTSIDE FORANGAL

“Gjuki!” Broder called out, walking over to the man as he observed the distant castle. “The disguises are ready.”

Gjuki kept his eyes on the walls of Forangal and studied the guards’ routines, meticulously searching for an opening.

“And what of the Saxon thegn?” He questioned. “Any updates on his whereabouts?”

“He hasn’t reached Forangal yet,” Broder answered. “Our scouts say he plans to arrive tomorrow morning at the main gates. Everyone will be there to welcome him, including the ealdorman.”

Gjuki seemed pleased with the news. “Good. Then everything should go smoothly.”

“The plan is still the same?”

The bard looked away from the castle, slowly making his way back to their camp. “Yes. At dawn, we’ll catch up with Raedan’s personal guard and sneak into their ranks. From there, we’ll follow him all the way to Forangal and infiltrate the castle’s walls.”

Broder shrugged. “And then?”

“...Then, we keep an eye out for Eivor’s brother.”

The other man remained skeptical. “You really think Sigurd is still alive? You heard what Eivor said. The man was shot twice before he fell into the river. Chances are he drowned, or died before he even hit the water.”

Gjuki wasn’t convinced. “Do not be so quick to dismiss the unlikely, Broder. It happens more often than you think. Even though I am not yet certain if the fisherman in Agenbury was speaking of the same man, I do believe it is possible at the very least. The Dane he rescued from the river matches Eivor’s description perfectly, and the timing of his arrival is somewhat suspicious.”

Broder decided to humor him. “Fine. Let’s say we do find Sigurd. What then? How are we supposed to get him back home?”

Gjuki sighed, chewing his lip in thought. “I’m afraid I do not yet have an answer for that. If Sigurd is in Forangal, it’s most-likely that he’s under heavy guard. Possibly in the dungeons. If we find him, we’ll report it to Eivor first. I think we’ve left him in the dark for long enough, don’t you?”

“Whatever you think is right, Gjuki.”

The bard smiled. “Good. Then we should focus on getting some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and if everything goes according to plan, we’ll be surrounded by Saxon forces soon enough. I don’t want any of you letting your guard down.”

Broder gave him a firm nod. “Understood.”

“Come, my friend,” Gjuki beckoned, guiding the other man with a hand on the shoulder. “The day is young, and our bellies are still empty. Let us drink to our good fortune, and pray that the gods favor us in the times to come. Odin knows we’ll need it.”

[zacharyleigh316]

Radio Silence

Here’s a little Destiel (au) ficlet inspired by this post. I wasn’t initially sure whether I was going to make this or not (due to lack of motivation, etc.) but here it is! So @mychemicalobsession514 and @fandomtrash2405 this one is for you. Hope you enjoy!

Dean loved being a cop. It was everything he hoped it would be and then some. There wasn’t one thing he hated about his job; he got to protect people, save lives, uphold the law (most of the time), and work with amazing professionals, most of whom did what he did for the same reasons, all while putting the bad people away. Being a cop made him feel good. Knowing that what he was doing everyday, what he was getting paid to do everyday, but more importantly what he chose to do everyday, made a difference in the world, was extremely fulfilling. Even if only slightly, and the world was better off for it? So yeah, he loved his job.

Though, given the most recent events, he might have to re-evaluate that statement.

“Mornin’ brotha’.” Came Benny’s Louisiana drawl from the coffee station. “Chief wants to see you, in his office when you get the chance.”

Dean nodded, making himself a cup of coffee, black, as usual. (Even though he didn’t quite understand why any of the officers continued to get their coffee from the station, including him, seeing as it tasted like absolute shit all the time.)

He looked over to his partner and raised a brow, Benny looking like the cat who caught the freakin’ canary, “What’s got you lookin’ all smug? I’m not getting reassigned are something, am I?”

“Oh no, nothin’ like that Dean. Besides, that wouldn’t be desirable for any of us.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t explain why you got that stupid look on your face.” Benny just chuckled, tossing his empty cup into the trash.

He slapped Dean on the shoulder when he passed, and paused, meeting his eyes with a shit eating grin. “Just wanted you to know that I love you too brotha.”

Dean brows furrowed in confusion, watching Benny’s retreating back just as clueless as before. Not that he minded Benny’s terms of endearment; the guy was not only his partner but basically his best friend. He was comfortable enough with himself and his sexuality to actually quite enjoy being affectionate with his friends. So it wasn’t as if that was the weird part.

No, what was weird was all the smirking and the chuckling, as if Benny was enjoying some one-sided inside joke that only he was privy to. In fact, now that he thought about it, everybody else was being weird too.

Dean winced at the piss poor excuse for coffee when he took a sip, and made his way over to Chief Singer’s office. He was just about to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open, and Dean was being accosted by one of Garth’s hugs.

“I love you too Dean. Never forget that. I know I won’t. It made my day. Thank you.” Garth gave Dean a squeeze before pulling away, the latter more confused then ever.

Garth held onto Dean’s shoulders for a moment after the hug, just smiling at him, and though he admit he didn’t mind open affection, Garth had this way over overstepping boundaries that sometimes Dean wasn’t aware of.

“Uh, Garth, buddy? Mind stepping back now?”

“Of course Dean. You’re a good man.” He nodded, more so to himself than to Dean, and walked away with a skip in his step.

Dean shook his head and knocked on the doorway, stepping into the office at Bobby’s gruff, mumbled “come in”.

“What a weird guy.” He said in disbelief, chuckling at Bobby’s snort of affirmation.

“Anyway, you said you wanted to see me?”

“I did. Take a seat boy, we gotta talk.”

Dread immediately consumed Dean, his head already rapidly flitting through a million ways to say sorry about hundreds of possible scenarios of shit that he may or may not have done, when Bobby rolled his eyes.

“You can stop that right now, ya’ idjit, you’re not in trouble or anything.” He relaxed, and the Chief shook his head.

“Remember, you can’t hide nothin’ from me boy, I may be your boss, but I’m also like your daddy.” Dean raised a brow, curious as to where this was going.

“With that being said, I hope you know that even though I don’t say it as often as I probably should, I do love you. You and your brother.”

“Me more though right?” Bobby shot him an unimpressed look.

“Right sorry, I love you too, and all that. But seriously Bobby, where is all this coming from? Not that knowing everybody here loves me is a bad thing, but why are you all saying it all of the sudden?”

“You tellin’ me that you don’t know?” Dean shook his head.

“Obviously not. I wouldn’t have asked you if I did, old man.”

“Watch yourself boy,” Chief Singer said fondly, “I’m not against hitting you. That or firin’ your ass.”

“Yeah yeah. Both you and I know you’re just talk.” He smirked at Bobby’s responding huff, and leaned back against his chair.

“So you were saying?”

“Right. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing when this happens, but your radio codes in from time to time, before you come in, and you’re always saying that you love us.”

Dean both paled and somehow colored simultaneously. “Wh-what?”

“Which is why I was saying earlier, or attempting to say rather, that I uh...love you too of course, but the radio ain’t for that, son.”

“Oh my god.”

“What? You look like your trying to pass a kidney stone.”

“Are you freaking serious? You gotta be joking with me, right?”

“Why in the hell would I joke about something like that?” The Chief glared, at Dean, who ran a hand through his hair, and dragged it down his face.

“You okay? It ain’t that big of a deal, Dean. That’s why I’m letting you know now.”

“Oh my god.”

“There something you wanna say?”

“Even if there was, Bobby, I’m too humiliated and embarrassed to even...god, I’m a dumb ass.”

“Okay, well, I’m sure that it ain’t that bad. You have a tendency to over exaggerate, princess.”

“Oh no, Bobby, I’m pretty sure it is that bad. I mean, how is radioing ‘I love you’ out to the whole precinct not that bad? This takes the cake on just the level of bad it is.

“At least this explains why everyone was being spontaneously openly affectionate today.” Dean sighed, burying his face in his hands.

“Minus Garth. He’s always like that.”

Bobby chuckled, “I’m gonna take a gander and say, judging by your reaction, that this wasn’t intentional.”

“Christ, of course it wasn’t!” Dean flailed. “I wouldn’t friggin use my radio for that! Hell, I probably wouldn’t even say it in person unless they said it first.”

“Well, you seem to know exactly why this has been happening.” Bobby raised a brow. “Do you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Care to explain?” Bobby prompted, when Dean didn’t elaborate.

“Not really no.”

“Fine then, you’re dismissed. Keep your secrets boy. I’ll find them out eventually. And just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sure thing, sir.”

With that, and a nod from the chief, Dean left Bobby’s office and went to work, which, to no surprise (Dean was very rarely ever that lucky), sought out to personally torture him for the entirety of the day.

Officer Jody Mills and her partner Officer Donna Hanscum called in during lunchtime to profess their love for him, which okay maybe wasn’t so bad, because he did love them back, enjoyed their company immensely, and thought of them as surrogate mothers. Then Charlie, the computer tech, and regretfully also one of his best friends, personally came to his desk, dragging the other tech, Kevin, along, to talk about LARPing, and comics, and game night, and just as Dean relaxed, when they got off their break, the redheaded monster that was his Queen expressed her strong platonic love for him, letting him know he was safe from no one.

When the day was finally over (it hadn’t even been that exhausting, but when every single person you work with takes the time out of their own day to tease you because of one little colossal mistake—that you may or not have made—it begins to take its toll on you) Dean couldn’t wait to get home. He was starting to regret not only his choice of career, but also ever being excited to work with his friends.

He packed up quickly and clocked out, letting out a sigh at the prospect of home. Though, of course the day wouldn’t be over without one final ‘I love you’ from another coworker.

“Didn’t want to you leave with saying I love you, man. Stay safe out there, honey.” Dean snorted, snapping a glare at Detective Henriksen.

“Very funny, Victor. Go fuck yourself.” Victor laughed, and Dean flipped him off on his way out, making the detective laugh harder.

“Whatever you say, darling!”

Dean rushed out of the police station, never more grateful to see his beloved impala waiting for him in the parking lot. At least she couldn’t tell him she loved him, thought he didn’t mind that it was certainly implied.

Yeah, he hated work.

Dean pulled into the doorway shortly after, ready to put the whole day behind him, forget about it all with a nice, cold beer and some television.

He pat Baby’s hood as he got out, and gave the same treatment to the golden Lincoln Continental parked beside her, when he passed it on the way to the front door.

“Dean.” Cas peeked his head out of his office with a smile on his face, and met Dean at the door.

“You’re home, how was work?” He went in for a hug, before being stopped by Dean’s hand on his chest.

His brows furrowed, and watched questioningly as Dean went and switched his radio off.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, s’fine. Just, the last time we hugged, your shoulder must of hit my radio and it called dispatch.” Cas’ eyes widened in surprise.

“So basically the entire precinct, meaning every officer on duty, heard me say I love you when I left the other day. I didn’t even know until I got into work this morning, and everybody started tell me they loved me.”

Castiel’s eyes widened further before a smile broke out onto his face again, and he started laughing.

“Yeah, laugh it up sweetheart. But I would be nice to the person who cooks for you and makes sure you eat.”

“I’m sorry Dean. Work must of been interesting.”

“Tell me about it. So now whenever we hug, I’m going to make sure my radio is off. Who knows what else they may have heard.” His boyfriend rolled his eyes and opened his arms expectantly.

“Well now that it is, may I get my hug now, you drama queen?” Dean snorted, choosing not to think about how Cas sounded both like his brother and Bobby just then, and instead gathered him up into his arms for a hug.

Dean gave Castiel a squeeze, and pulled away slightly, smiling down at his boyfriend. “You’re so needy. Like a pet.”

“Mm, love you too.” Dean chuckled, and joined their lips, bringing Cas closer by his hips.

He hums into Dean’s mouth, and reaches up to cup his face in his hands. (Yeah, Dean prays to anything and anyone who’ll listen that his work buddies didn’t hear something like this).

And then, of course, (once again showing just how unlucky he was) his phone decided to ring, making Cas pull away. Dean whined, and pulled his phone from his back pocket, answering it in the hopes he could will the person who called to hang right back up, just by the sheer amount of glaring at it he did. Cas rolled his eyes, but hey, Dean really didn’t feel like being interrupted at the moment.

“What?” He snapped, holding the phone up to his ear. “This better be pretty friggin’ important Sammy. You better be dying or some shit, or I’m gonna kill you myself, bitch.”

“Jeez, Bobby said you would be home, jerk, so I assumed you wouldn’t be busy. I wanted to call you now rather than later. Guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah, you were wrong, now what do you want?”

“Just wanted to jump on the bandwagon, and send you some appreciation is all Dean, relax.” He could hear Sam’s bitch face through the phone.

“What?”

“Well you’re my brother, and you’ve done a lot...you do a lot, yet I don’t say this often when I probably should so I-“

“No. Nope. You were not just about to tell me you loved me!” Cas chuckled silently to himself, and smirked up at Dean, who was having another meltdown.

“Wha-Dean what’s so bad-“

“No Sammy. Do not say that to me! Seriously dude, I’m freakin serious. After all the people telling me that today, I don’t want to hear another person say those words in the context of me for a week! Actually make that two.”

“Christ alright. No need to be so anal about it. I guess I’ll talk to you later then.” Dean sighed, and visibly relaxed, ignoring his boyfriend smug expression.

“That goes for you too you ass hat.”

Castiel snorted, now ignoring Dean. “Bye Sam!”

“Bye Cas.” Dean glared at their easy rapport, as if nothing was wrong. “Tell Dean to stop being grumpy.”

“Will do.”

“Well he’s still right here, and currently wishing his Sasquatch of a brother would hang up already.”

“Whatever you say, Dean. Love you!” Sam hung up quickly after that, leaving Dean to stare at his phone dumbfounded.

“Son of a bitch!”

[evartandadam]

Hello! I’ve read some of your analysis on the akatsuki and i really love how in depth you go into their characters! It really makes me appreciate them more! So that’s why I wanted to ask (sorry if you answered something like this already) but who out of the akatsuki do you think is the most mentally unstable/stable and who is more mentally guarded and who isn’t?

What a great question! I will take mental stability to mean lack of turbulence and a ground on reality.

Mentally Unstable:

1) Obito

Obito is definitely the most mentally unstable. It is never made clear what Obito’s issues actually are- How much of him was Madara and Tobi, and how much was himself?

Tobi is never really addressed much, but I assume it’s a result of the White Zetsu in his body. Tobi is a very goofy personality, and if Obito was even partially in control of himself during this time, he has a disorder.

Practically mult-personality disorder, except he remembers everything he does as both Madara and Tobi. So it’s more like he gets wayyyy too invested in pretending to be what’s he’s not. I mean, the personality shifts are crazy.

I really wish more was explained with Obito’s mental state, because it was very interesting and not much was done :/ But there is definitely something wrong. Obito has some serious issues with accepting reality, and doesn’t cope with trauma AT ALL. Therefore, I think he is the most mentally unstable.

Also, Obito really didn’t have the emotional capacity to be a ninja in war (especially at that age). A perfect contrast to Kakashi, who is great at handling trauma and moving past it, Obito simply could not handle trauma this well. This is fine- it’s doesn’t make him wrong or a bad person. It’s like when Might Guy tried to join the Anbu to be there for Kakashi- it didn’t suit him at all. And Gai is awesome! But some jobs go against a person’s sensibilities, and I don’t think Obito had the mental and emotional constitution to deal with war trauma. This is shown in how Kakashi and Obito deal with Rin’s death. Kakashi holds steady with his core beliefs, but Obito totally loses it. This is because they are different, and have different reactions. Anyway, my point is that Obito was less suited to being in a war as a kid than Kakashi, but he was put into this situation anyway, and it really screwed him up. Like, really bad. I don’t think I need to really make my case here, I think everyone can agree Obito is a little… excessive.

2) Sasori

This guy replaced people with puppets to give him the love he desires. He takes people apart and makes them into puppets. Classic sociopath, but extra screwed up because of the added puppet aspect. Sasori can come across as very normal in conversation, due to his intellect, but he is living a lie. Obsessed with death and collecting people… We can all agree he is messed up. And I have written a lot on him! Here and here are some rants!

3) Nagato

Nagato can be tied with Sasori. Nagato has a full on god complex. He completely goes berserk after Yahiko’s death. You can basically pin point the second he snaps. Nagato uses his best friend’s corpse to walk and talk in, and… that’s not something a stable person would do. It is likely a strange way of “honoring” him, keeping him involved in their plans. But he is not considerate of Konan, who has to watch her lover’s corpse move around everyday, animated by her best friend.

Nagato believes he is better than everyone else- he knows best. And he has no problem mowing through innocents right and left to obtain his goals. He is an extreme person, and takes things way too far, much like Obito. He is a narcissist- and is therefore manipulated by Obito with ease. This dude is seriously unhinged.

4) Hidan

Hidan is mentally unstable but doesn’t think he is. To be what he is, he has to be a little off. People who join cults are vulnerable and looking for a place to belong- Hidan was this type of person. Hidan values strength over all else, and blindly accepted whatever this cult had to offer him. So he’s not the most mentally stable person. But he is very sure in himself, and is not turbulent in any sense. He has a very consistent, stable persona. So he’s not nearly as unstable as Obito. And he isn’t in denial about death, so he doesn’t live in rationalization like Sasori.

Stable:

Itachi, Kisame, and Konan are pretty mentally stable. They are consistent in the way they think and know how the world works. Deidara has bursts of crazy ideas, but part of that could be contributed to his age. Deidara still blends in with “normal” people (watch Naruto SD and see how cute he is with Team Gai). Kakuzu is also pretty stable, other than his anger issues. All of these characters would fit into a semi-normal category. You by how they interact with others. They are capable of reading others, and responding accordingly. (Sasori can interact with others well if he makes an effort but it doesn’t come naturally to him. Same with Hidan, who oversteps boundaries). 

Emotionally Guarded:

As for who is the most emotionally guarded, that would be Konan, Itachi, Sasori and Kakuzu. (in no particular order)

1) Konan

Konan is all about obliterating her emotions and protecting herself from others. Konan lives with guilt from a traumatic past, and to cope, she makes sure no one else gets in. It would take A LOT to make Konan trust another. She is very careful, and suspicious of other people. She views herself as a tool for Nagato, and is willing to do anything for him. But she is not like this at all with others. Nagato is familiar, and they share the same burdens. She also feels guilty for Yahiko’s death. Essentially, Konan is filled with regret, and has no interest in allowing more harm to come to her emotionally. She is a great example of an emotionally guarded person.

2) Itachi

Itachi is living a lie, and pretending to be everything he hates. In order to even begin to deal with the emotional toll of this, he would have to essentially disconnect himself from others. Itachi doesn’t want other people to get to know him or understand him, in fear that they will find out too much. He also lives with tremendous guilt, and “preserves” himself just so Sasuke can kill him someday. He lives his everyday life not actually living- in his mind, he is already dead, and awaiting the moment his destiny is made real. Itachi is the most emotionally guarded out of all of them, since it is a conscious effort. Itachi is emotionally guarded both unconsciously and consciously. Trying to get him to open up his feelings to another person is like trying to talk to a brick wall.

3) Sasori

Sasori claims he has no emotions, but that is very untrue. Sasori admits to Sakura and Chiyo that he failed- he is neither dead nor alive, and he is an incomplete puppet. He’s referring to his inability to completely eradicate his humanity. But he only admits this at the end. Sasori is extremely stubborn, and his entire life philosophy is centered around a fallacy- that he doesn’t need others, and he can live forever. Sasori seeks to fix the emptiness he feels, and thinks the solution is to get rid of emotions completely and become a higher being. After all, emotions have never done him any good. So Sasori is very deluded, and it’s a delusion he crafted around himself, one brick at a time. He is extremely emotionally guarded, even against himself.

4) Kakuzu

I would say Kakuzu is also emotionally guarded from living a long, harsh life, and would like to avoid caring for others as much as possible. Kakuzu was burned by the people he cared for most- his village. And they betrayed his trust. After this is probably when he became cynical about humanity and relied on something material and emotionless- money. I remember replying to an ask on how Kakuzu would fall in love, and I said Kakuzu would be very tricky to catch feelings. He takes his job seriously and caring for others isn’t on his priority list. He probably did this to protect himself and decades later, it’s just natural to him to block others out.

Most Unguarded:

All of the Akatsuki are emotionally guarded, in a way. But Kisame seems to still enjoy talking to others and cares for people He is very loyal and thoughtful. Deidara, despite his philosophy that nothing lasts forever (including happiness with others), always seeks out comradeship and is willing to talk about himself. Hidan is an open book. Like wow. He would probably tell you anything just to have someone to talk to. (Hidan can still be guarded on some topics if he doesn’t trust you, but I think to a normal degree.) Nagato is more open with himself than Konan is, since he was willing to talk to Naruto about his problems. Tobi/Obito is not as open as Nagato, but does love to talk when it’s appropriate. He isn’t too guarded with his feelings- he’s just tactful with them.

[rottweilerrr]

ROTTWEILER;

     + DOMESTIC ABUSE

I've already talked about this subject on several instances (especially regarding his co-dependent relationship with Mark, gender roles, personal boundaries and helping others, and a drabble describing his upbringing), but was recently reminded that I’ve actually never made a concise post about it, which is what I’m going to do now.

I.     Rejection and withdrawal of parental affection

One of the most formative experiences of his early childhood is the lesson that seeking out people’s affection is not only unwelcome, but also punishable – be it emotionally (through intentionally hurting him, such as mocking, name-calling, insulting or humiliating him, and the latter especially and purposely in front of other people, or denying his existence altogether) or physically (such as pushing him away or slapping him, usually accompanied by some sort of verbal degradation as well).

Ultimately, this has lead to largely inhibited social behavior: He finds it difficult to form relationships (and especially friendships) and almost never approaches anyone first to do so, and if so, only very hesitantly. It also means that if he’s rejected once, there is little chance that he’s going to try again since it would mean exposing himself to the same kind of humiliation again. This especially applies to instances where the nature of the rejection resembles the examples above, regardless of whether or not it only happened in jest.

II.    Susceptibility to further abuse

Now, exactly because he craves affection but at the same time knows that it is unattainable to him, he is not only incredibly sensitive to rejection (which evokes strong feelings of sadness, shame, despair and powerlessness), but also vulnerable to emotional manipulation and blackmail. In the past, this has lead to him being gaslighted repeatedly, most notably by his ex-girlfriend. She, among other things: used to constantly switch between dismissing and demeaning him and demanding affection, only to deny him said affection as soon as the initiative came from him, accused him of cheating while openly flirting with other men herself, “kept tabs” on him and insisted he let her see his phone, arguing that “if he didn’t have anything to hide, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about either”, spread rumors among his friends and acquaintances that he was either physically abusing her or otherwise involved in serious crimes, thus trying to alienate them from him and rally them against him, and lied about trivial things just to make him question his own perception.

After he finally broke up with her, she started harassing him via text and often called him drunk, insulted him on the phone and even showed up at the pub multiple times specifically to wear him down; he never did anything about it except changing his number.

His mother tends to fall into similar patterns, though less consciously so. Most of her aggression toward him started developing after her husband’s death when she found herself in the situation of having to raise a child all by herself that she was overwhelmed with to begin with.* And without his emotional support – and they were extremely close; the way they treated their children is not at all reflective of how they treated each other – and a child that she was, at this point, almost completely estranged from, things fell apart very quickly. In her own helplessness (and a good portion of denial that she and her husband were, in fact, largely responsible for the current situation), she eventually started shifting the blame of how he turned out on him and Mark, one of his few trusted people at that time, which alienated him even further.

After he moved out and contact ceased almost completely, she began clutching to him instead and often tried to enforce that by guilt-tripping him and generally making him feel bad for cutting ties (i.e. “How could you do this? I’m your mother!” or “I don’t have anyone else but you.”). Besides being highly manipulative, those attempts are not genuine either: She doesn’t want him to “come back” because she’s actually interested in making amends and rekindling their relationship, but to keep face. Additionally, she expects financial advantages from staying in touch: There have been several instances where she called him under the pretense of just wanting to chat, but then subsequently asked for money and immediately turned on him once he turned her down or said that he couldn’t spare anything right now (and mind you, he’s still in debt, too).

The outcome of those events is almost always the same: Either he doesn’t defend himself at all or he simply tries to shuffle himself out of the situation, usually by hanging up or leaving the house. There have only been very few instances where the situation actually escalated into a legitimate fight, which raises the question how and why he reacts to certain things in the way that he does.

III.    Fight or flight?

Though previous elaborations might indicate otherwise, his passivity in cases like the above (post-breakup and post-moving out) does not stem from the hope that they will change or maybe still like him back if he only behaves compliant enough, but from the conviction that “there is simply nothing to be done about it” as help outside of his own capabilities virtually does not exist. If you cannot help yourself, it cannot be helped at all. This also means that there is no one you can really trust or rely on but yourself, which most significantly shows in the way that he often does not make the distinction between mocking or teasing someone in jest and doing so in earnest. Due to his experiences, he interprets both as “saying one thing but doing the other” and acts according to it. (Though it needs to be said that this primarily applies to people he doesn’t know well; he has a higher tolerance with those he actually considers his friends or feels comfortable around.) Hence his trust, as easily as it can be won through the right measures, can be lost again just as quickly.

Now, apart from either victory or defeat as a last consequence, his reaction to situations as described above (e.g. attempts at manipulating him, taking advantage of him or degrading him) varies strongly: It can range from silent withdrawal to avoid further hurt to open confrontation and aggression. But as a rule of thumb: The more he feels treated unfairly or attacked/provoked out of the blue (particularly by someone he doesn’t know well), the more likely he is to defend his boundaries and/or demand respect by lashing out. However, this usually happens gradually and follows a very specific pattern:

Verbal confrontation:  He reacts to the seeming unfairness or provocation either by mirroring it (= retaliation) or by pointing it out (= defense), whereas it may vary how obviously or directly he does that; however, the more something actually gets to him, the louder or more agitated he tends to be. He’s not very subtle in this regard.

Threat and intimidation:  Pretty self-explanatory: If you don’t stop, I’ll show you what happens and I guarantee you you won’t like it. 

Physical intimidation:  He’s a big guy and he knows it, so purposely overstepping people’s boundaries by physically invading their space (and thus giving them “a taste” of how it’d be to get into a physical fight with him) is one of his go-to tools when all else fails. He resorts to this very obviously here by literally leaning over their table and subsequently waving his hand into Ryan’s face, and here after Eggsy has gotten up from his chair and he makes it a point to not draw back.

Physical violence:  The severity of usually depends on the other person’s disposition, on how big or strong they are, whether or not they are a skilled fighter and how much he expects them to fight back. Violence for violence’s sake is rare since his main goal is “to make them stop” – now and in the future, which can, in certain cases, lead to excessive violence should he be under the impression that this is the only way to achieve that goal.

This dichotomy between withdrawal (= avoiding conflict) and confrontation (= seeking out further conflict) is actually exemplary for how he tends to deal with conflict in general: it either does not get solved at all or it gets “solved” through violence, be it verbal or physical. And this is a learned behavior. This is how they used to handle conflict at home and this is how he and the people in his surroundings handled conflict later in life, which, unfortunately, also means that he has barely any conflict resolution skills apart from that. It is incredibly difficult for him to just “talk things out” or even explain what bothers him, particularly so since he’s not used to actually being taken seriously in his needs or concerns.

IV.    Passing on the abuse

As I’ve already mentioned in II. and this meme, Rottweiler has a very strong mindset of “If you do not help yourself, no one will”, and combined with the experience that you have to fight for everything lest it will be taken from you,** this can result in situations that are difficult to understand from an outside view.

a)   Refusing to help

With the exception of his close friends (Gina, Donald, Poodle) and individuals who cannot properly defend themselves (children, animals), he does come to anyone’s aid despite his own experiences. On the one hand, this has to do with the overall attitude that it is better to not stick your nose into other people’s business or it might fall back on you, but also, and more importantly, with the fact that admitting that you not only need help sometimes but are worthy of receiving it, too, would mean acknowledging the actual extent of his own abuse and the injustices he’s faced.

And considering that he’s built his entire reasoning on those two principles – you are alone and responsible for your own misery – he literally cannot do that without a catastrophic loss of meaning in and of his life. Not to mention that it would increase already existing feelings of helplessness and powerlessness, which would make him feel at other people’s mercy even more.

Eventually, this is why his attitude toward Michelle and Eggsy on the one hand and (canon age) Daisy on the other is so vastly different: he considers them “old enough to take care of themselves” and if they fail to do so, then that’s their own fault. Which is the complete opposite of his stance toward Daisy, who he’d help in a heartbeat if she were to face the same abuse as Michelle and Eggsy.

b)   Trauma and abuse

Apart from the matters already discussed, there are other things that “trigger” traumatic events (respectively the memory thereof) and that he often tries to fight in a way that may be considered abusive as well but that he fails to recognize as such:

Avoiding him for no apparent reason (applicable only to people he actually sees more or less regularly):  Evokes the same negative feelings as rejection and tends to spill over into aggression quickly if he’s already on difficult terms with the person in concern. His solution usually consists of an attempt to force them into acknowledging his presence and/or telling him why he’s being shunned (i.e. confronting them when they’re alone, chatting them up even though it’s clear they do not  want to talk to him, generally seeking out their company), which, at least with other men, is prone to escalate into physical violence.

Not looking at him and/or ignoring him when he’s talking to you:  (see above). 

Talking over him:  (see above, though here the factor “disrespect” plays into it more strongly, so he tends to get angry rather than sad).

Touching him against his will:  He doesn’t mind being touched even without his permission – he actually enjoys physical contact a lot, platonic or not –, but he gets incredibly angry when people do it after he’s already told them no. 

In regards to the first two, this cycle of abuse is best broken not by telling him off, but by telling him off and why you do not wish to associate with him (even if its not actually the truth, he’s not going to question it anyway): It’s the uncertainty about people’s motives and intentions that makes him bounce off the walls, not the fact that somebody doesn’t like him.  So if he knows what’s going on, there is no reason for him to insist on his previous behavior, either. In fact, it is best to be very straightforward with him in general as he tends to struggle with picking up certain social clues.

V.    Social isolation and picking up clues

Whereas Rottweiler is good at recognizing people’s moods, he’s significantly less skilled at recognizing the cause of said moods. The reason for this has, again, to do with the  environment he grew up in, which demanded being able to see what mood people were in in order to avoid conflict, but at the same time made it difficult to grasp why people were in that mood to begin with – there was simply no one who actually talked about those things, so he was left in the dark about why people did what they did. On top of that, he was, for pretty much the entirety of his childhood and teens, extremely isolated from people outside of his own neglecting family, which impacted the development of proper social skills even further. It is still difficult for him up to this day to identify and distinguish the nuances of interpersonal relationships and interactions. Or put differently: If you want him to understand you, tell him clearly instead of dropping hints.

VI.    Last but not least: Displaying affection and other random facts

As inhibited as he may be in the beginning, he’s actually very affectionate and open with his feelings once he’s sure that they are being returned; he loves showing people that he likes them and that they are important to him, regardless of whether or not it’s only platonic. On the flipside, I doubt he’d mesh well with someone who doesn’t like that at all.

He doesn’t smile much, though, let alone laugh, and it takes a lot to make him so. It is therefore a bad index of whether or not he’s having fun or enjoying the current situation, so you might need to read between the lines.

He’s actually not jealous and trying to make him so tends to alienate him instead, as it resembles too much known patterns of emotional manipulation.

Similarly, teasing doesn’t really work, sexual or not. It has so be VERY obvious or with someone he actually expects this kind of behavior from for him to “get it” and maybe play along. 

He doesn’t hold grudges. His mother and the two guys who got Sheila killed are the only ones he’ll never forgive. Maybe the kids who bullied him in school, too. 

Having grown up in a both emotionally and physically violent environment where violence had exclusively negative connotations, he is very averse to any play-pretend of it, too. He may be kinky otherwise, but BDSM is not up his alley at all.

* Though there was personal selfishness playing into this (i.e. putting their own interests and needs above the ones of their child as the rule and not the exception, generally failing to acknowledge that they are not only responsible for this child existing altogether, but also have the duty to take care of it – or at least make sure someone else is –, hence treating it like a nuisance and very much making this known to him as well), they were also both in a state of lethargy and apathy even before they had children (which, by the way, were both unplanned). At least his mother was/is in serious debt pretty much since her early twenties and his father not only had frequent health issues (mostly due to smoking and drinking excessively for the better part of his life), but probably also got into trouble with the law more than once. On top of that, they generally struggled with getting by and everything that comes with living on the breadline, which made it even more difficult and personally taxing to look after someone who isn’t them.

** Especially during his early childhood, he has made the experience that everything can and will possibly be taken from you: They got seized multiple times due to his parents’ horrendous debt and simply not paying their bills and his mother pawned his Christmas presents and other of his belongings more than once. Additionally, the police showing up at their house was not only a frequent occurrence but also an incredibly invasive and terrifying one, even though he probably doesn’t even fully grasp that himself. Them eventually taking his dog and putting her down was just the final straw.