#there are so many ways to inflict it and to experience it and to see it in another...

[qqueenofhades]

so I've been watching a lot of videos abt food that's uniquely Hong Kong and y'know with all the changes happening there I had a thought like hm is this preservation and documentation of cultural foods that are at risk of being lost?

and then I thought gosh this sounds familiar likkke everywhere we see violent colonization occur not only are lives and freedom lost but also language culture food

and then I wanted to ask you as a historian: has this always been the case? have people always had low key anxiety about culture "loss" or did they think of it a diff way? is this framing of colonization and cultural loss a recent one?

I'm realizing this is a big question and we are all le tired from les recent events, so pls view this as a no pressure ask, I just uh figured you're the only historian I have real access to haha

This is an important question that I don't currently have the mental wherewithal to answer in great depth, but I think it's important to speak to briefly. And I'll put it this way: yes, human beings have always felt that their culture, their way of life, their present existence, their friends and family, and the forces at work against them are tenuous, uncontrollable, and prone to sudden and violent destruction. I'd say it's one of the key themes of being human. I'll cite the famous example of the 8th-century Old English elegy The Ruin of the Empire, known usually as The Ruin:

This is what many of us would consider the dark and distant past, wherein an unknown person in Anglo-Saxon England is observing the ruins of the Roman Empire in Britain and reflecting on how fragile and frightening the present day feels, as if all the glory has faded into the past, as if things will not be "great" anymore, and the present is just moving inexorably toward darkness:

Bright were the castle buildings, many the bathing-halls, high the abundance of gables, great the noise of the multitude, many a meadhall full of festivity, until Fate the mighty changed that. Far and wide the slain perished, days of pestilence came, death took all the brave men away; their places of war became deserted places, the city decayed. The rebuilders perished, the armies to earth.

And yet... that was the 8th century. That was a very long time ago. A lot of history has happened since then, and despite everything, it's still here. People have always looked at the danger and fragility of their present situation and yearned for the perceived stability of the past. Indeed, the reason we have the myth of the "Dark Ages" is largely thanks to the 14th-century Italian humanist Petrarch, who looked at the (also objectively very, very crappy) 14th century, which is similar to now in a lot of ways, and built the shining myth of the Greco-Roman era as a bygone golden age that society needed to reinstate if it was going to save itself from self-inflicted destruction. This in turn gave rise to the Renaissance, which was intensely a cultural project to reclaim and re-instate a seemingly "better" past in the face of present-day chaos and uncertainty. This included a strict reifying of gender roles (etc. etc. Was There a Renaissance For Women?) and turn toward "purer" social ideals.

Anyway: these concepts have been shaped and articulated differently in various historical periods. But yes, the basic feeling that we are losing ourselves somehow, that the past was better and more stable, that the present challenges can be solved by insular reactionary politics, and so forth, is a very, very common human experience. For better or worse: both tangible and intangible artifacts have always been lost, destroyed, subject to violent sociopolitical conquest attempts, written out of history, and used for oppressive political and cultural processes. Part of the reason the right wing is doing so well worldwide right now is because they are tapping into a very, very old "put the strongman in charge and everything will go back to how [good] it used to be" mythology that is also as old as dirt and time, and which humans just keep doing when things feel existentially scary. This "weaponized nostalgia" is even more of an issue in the age of rampant disinformation, AI, and fake-news bubbles which can totally create what is accepted as reality, very often to the benefit of illiberal, right-wing, authoritarian forces. That is very hard to deal with and overcome, and I don't think we're anywhere near doing it.

That, therefore, is the bad news. The good (as it were) news is that at least these cultural processes and human instincts are not new, and indeed have continued for a long, long time. And even when these old things are destroyed, new ones emerge as well. So yeah.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 11 - The End

"How are they, Tess?"

"I've treated Roman's injuries and he's resting now. I've also given him antibiotics and painkillers, so he should be comfortable...as much as he can be, given the circumstances."

"As for Evelyn, I've done all I could for the moment, but we'll have to wait for the morning change before I can perform a full examination. Her wounds seem to be healing remarkably fast though."

"Is it because she's a werewolf?"

"Yes, although I do want to take a closer look at that bite, in case it's at risk of becoming infected. I admit I don't have any experience treating demon-inflicted wounds."

"They are prone to infection."

"I still can't wrap my head around the idea that anyone would do something like this! To their own child, no less!"

"It shocked me as well."

"You took such a risk in confronting her, Fiona! The inhabitants of the Hellplanes are not to be trifled with!"

"I'm aware of that, Dad. Would you rather I'd let Jacob and Evelyn go in there alone?"

"Of course not - what you did was very brave - but we can't help worrying. The whole thing could've gone so much worse."

"Well, it worked out fine, so you can let it go now."

It was Abby who brought the conversation back on track.

"Is Roman going to be all right?"

"Physically? Probably. He had a number of deep gashes that needed stitches, several broken bones including two ribs, a bruised lung, plus the...runes carved into his back, which will be uncomfortable for a while. Assuming there are no complications, these should heal in time."

"Mentally, it's a different matter. I'm not an expert, but I don't think the kind of trauma he's been through is something he'll be able to just shrug off. Speaking to therapist might help him."

"May we go in and see them?"

"You may, but just for a little while. Jacob is with Roman already; he hasn't left his bedside since I brought him back to the ward."

"Mr Stigfinnare is with his wife as well. He's been worried sick about her, prowling around the waiting room like a caged wolf."

"I'm surprised he didn't kick the door down."

"He might've done, if I hadn't let him in."

The trio - together with Ulf, who refused to be parted from Evelyn - gathered around Roman's bed.

Roman was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget, but he forced a smile on his face as he looked at each of the people who had risked their lives to save him.

In truth, he could hardly believe it.

"I don't know what to say. I owe you my life - no, more than my life. My soul. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough..."

"This is the second time I had to help save your ass, Turner! You'd better not make a habit out of it!"

Evelyn's cheerful tone helped defuse some of the tension, although Ulf kept his arm wrapped protectively around his wife. She was putting up a brave front, but he could tell she was hurting more than she was letting on. He hated it!

"It's over now."

"Maybe...maybe not."

"Fiona...? What do you mean?"

"The ritual circle carved into his back. The Nameless One may be have been banished, but those runes are magic. He's tied to the Hellplanes now."

"WHAT?!"

Roman sat up so fast that white stars burst before his eyes and his injuries flared painfully despite the medication keeping the worst of it at bay. He felt the cold panic rising like a tide.

"Are you saying it can come back?"

"Fuck. You're not, are you?"

"There are many doors between the planes, and things have a way of slipping through the cracks. That sigil is one such door; closed for the moment, but not locked."

"But you can remove it, right?! Or...render it inert, or something?"

"I...I'll do some research. Ask around."

Roman looked so crestfallen, Jacob's heart twinged in sympathy.

"Guys? Can you give us a moment, please?"

"Please try not to think about it, all right? If anything happens, my whole family are witches; they'll help. You need to focus on getting better."

Roman smiled humorlessly; it was hard not to think about the interdimensional door to Hell itself he carried around on his back, but he was so very tired. Sleep beckoned, demons or no demons.

But first, there was something he needed to say to Jacob.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to come to my rescue. Considering how things are between us..."

"Look, just because we broke up doesn't mean I don't still lo- care about you. Besides, I didn't actually do much, it was mostly Evelyn and Fiona."

"Still. Facing down demons and witches when you're just a regular person with no special powers took guts."

"I did have an axe."

Something happened then that Roman did not expect: he burst into laughter. Which hurt, but it was worth it, and his heart felt lighter for it.

"I think I'd like to sleep now..."

"Yes, you should. I'll be back to see you in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

As Roman sank into the cottonwool depths of drug-induced sleep, a smile fluttered on his lips.

The End!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!

[actualaster]

I know media does it to most easily showcase how much pain a character is in, but you don't actually need to be in so much pain you're screaming from it for a limb to give out from pain.

Sometimes it's just a white-hot flash of agony so sudden it takes your breath away and the next thing you know you're on the ground/bed/back in the chair/whatever.

It's so abrupt and intense and quick that it's over before you have even a chance to make a sound and all that's left is the deep, lingering ache of it.

And sometimes it's not even pain! Sometimes a limb can just... Stop working and down you go. The pain comes after.

(That's what happened to my knee where I ended up needing to be wheeled around because I couldn't walk--just gave out and hurt after it stopped working)

There's pain you cry out from, for sure, but there's plenty of pain--pain that can be literally debilitating--that you don't scream from, either, but that doesn't make it less of an impediment. Depends on the person themselves a lot, as well as the type of pain itself.

[psychronia]

I've been rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender because why not and I'm losing my mind at Zuko's proper introduction. I don't know if it's hindsight, shifting characterizations, or just me not watching this in a long time, but this was amazing.

We start off showing he's an impatient and very angry kid. Reasonable, and the sort of flaw we might expect to see in a villain. Kinda funny that he expects to go up against an adult and fully 4-Element realized Avatar, but the kid is desperate and Iroh clearly expects his nephew to get the banishment-denial kicked out of him.

What's important here, though, is Zuko's introduction to the Southern Water Tribe.

Here, we have a very intimidating entrance where his entire ship just sails through the ice right up to the village's front door. It's quite ominous and this is our first proper introduction to how the Fire Nation interacts with a foreign people.

Sokka charges, I'm assuming fully prepared to die, and Zuko casually knocks him out of the way. Okay, so clearly the Water Tribe are entirely outgunned.

He asks "Where are you hiding him?" and the people of the Water Tribe go silent. I assume they're either just too scared to talk or actually protecting Aang.

Whatever the case, it's important to note that the Southern Water Tribe know the terror the Fire Nation can inflict. We have a whole episode dedicated to tracking down a division of raiders. Sokka was able to not only identify the ash-mixed snow as signs of an incoming attack, but estimate how many ships the amount of ash measures to. These are a people who have experience being terrorized and are probably expecting something terrible to happen.

And then, after they don't answer, Zuko grabs Gran-Gran. There was a horror sting to it, and everything the tribe knows about the Fire Nation suggests that Zuko is about to threaten or straight up hurt her to get answers. Classic "terrorize the elderly" bad guy stuff.

And then...

He goes "He's (the Avatar) be about this age and is a master of all four elements!?" and lets her go.

And all of a sudden, the tension that was built up is shattered as Zuko went "I know, I'll give them a reference for the person I'm looking for because clearly they're confused and I wasn't specific enough."

This went from a show of villainy to a show of Zuko being totally socially awkward and misreading the situation entirely. Not helping is that when he does try to menace them a moment later, his fire is slow and angled quite safely.

It still worked on the Water Tribe because they're understandably scared, but all I could think of is that this was the equivalent of a playground bully trying to make someone flinch with that fake-out lunge thing.

Because the fact-and something we'll come to learn-is that Zuko is TERRIBLE at being a Fire Nation oppressor. He's capable of doing morally dubious things and is a competent fighter. But he's lousy at terrorizing people and cruelty-that's kind of the point of his banishment.

And while we can see the story paint this picture of Zuko's true character as the story goes on with hints of good and conflicting loyalties, here we get to see just how bad he is at being "the bad guys". He's still unambiguously being the villain of this scene, and it makes no real difference to the oppressed themselves, but there is a comical gap between where Zuko thinks he is, where he actually is, and somehow it still puts him on the same page as his victims just because of how terrible the Fire Nation's influence is on everyone involved.

[shu-of-the-wind]

i read somewhere that grey whales can live upwards of 150 years, and that there are likely grey whales out in the oceans today that were alive and saw the massive whale hunts of the 19th century that inspired herman melville's moby dick.

to be clear, i have no idea if this is true. it could just be apocryphal, or something someone made up. but even if it isn't true, i think there's a something to read into that in terms of trauma and repair. if there really are whales on this planet today that are alive after seeing so many other creatures like them slaughtered and dragged out of the water by unknown hands for an unknown purpose, then those whales know the dangers and flee from them even after the people who hunted their kin have been over a hundred years dead. and they taught their calves to flee the same way. and those calves taught their calves.

150 year old whales teaching younger whales who teach younger whales who have no experience with the reasons why they must avoid boats, but know in their blood and bones that their safety relies on it.

something something trauma long outlives the people who inflict it. something something trauma transforms how generations grow.

[solarbird]

“Are we willing to fight for it?” Crowd: “YES!” “And when we fight?” Crowd: “WE WIN!” — Kamala Harris to campaign staff, 22 July 2024

That’s right, the “if we fight we win” isn’t from me this time. It’s from Kamala Harris, and I am kind of in shock.

One of the things I most feared about the “replace Biden” movement was the donor class yanking the party right again and hand-picking an all old white dudes ticket and absolutely tanking every chance we had of winning this election and stopping Trumpism for good.

Politically active Black people I know personally were expecting that to happen, because that kind of shit has happened so many times. And when political Black people talk about this shit in the Democratic party, you better listen, because their history on this stuff is solid.

I mean, that’s not the only reason I feared it, I have plenty of my own experience watching this same shit go down. But it’s a big one.

That – and all the many money and organisational problems I have described which would result – was about the biggest problem I had with replacing Biden. Particularly once it was clear the money people were moving on it so hard. I was so sure they’d do again what they’ve always done, slide the top of the ticket back to the “right,” repudiating so much economic and climate good the Biden administration has done, trying to haul us back to Clintinesque neoliberalism which would fail more spectacularly than ever before.

That’s also why I was an instant loud and dare I say it strident pivot to Harris when Biden actually did drop out – it was all to stop that money move from happening. That’s why I was out Sunday as loud and long as I could be, shouting, “WHITE PEOPLE, GET HER THE NOMINATION. FUCKING DO IT” while various usual clowns and dilettantes wibbled on demanding an ‘open convention’ and nattering about a ‘flash primary’ and going off about ‘not voting for a cop’ and the wretched spectre of Joe Manchin dipped a skeletal toe into the race.

None of that was an option. It’s still not an option. It had to be her; it has to be her.

And that speech I’m quoting shows why.

I’m still stunned. I never expected to hear a presidential candidate echoing my own words back at me.

I mean, Biden understands exactly what we’re dealing with – fash propaganda aside, he really is still all there, and his words show it. But he’s not able to frame it that way, it’s just not who he is. To see a candidate frame it like this… exactly like this… that’s something new. And I did not expect it.

I am so rarely truly surprised in politics. It has been a while since I have been surprised at all.

This has surprised me.

Another political writer I follow described her as the first Generation X candidate, and maybe that’s why. Technically she’s like two months too early for GenX, she’s in that transition zone, but y’know what? If she wants to grab that label I am fine with that, because those are some words from someone who fucking gets it. From someone who has figured it the fuck out.

Go watch her speech, particularly, oh… the “I know Donald Trump’s type” section starts around 19 minutes in, but the part after that, that’s where it really starts to matter, at 21:45. Here, I timestamped for you, hopefully it’ll work where you’re reading this and if not, just skip ahead:

I’ve been saying – this is the turning point year. The peak year of a fascist movement weakened but not destroyed by self-inflicted wounds of COVID, the last year of the backstop, the year after which we can start to win.

But still I expected that this year that we’d still have to fight under the old rules, playing the old games of the Baby Boom, even if I knew that one final year of holding would shatter it all, and let us make and play by new rules in ’26 and ’28.

Hence, one more year of the bulwark, one more year of the hold.

Until two days ago, on Sunday, July 21st, 2024, that was exactly how it was playing out.

Then a political miracle happened. Biden left the race and the donor class didn’t get their push to the right, and some of them apparently didn’t even want it because they dropped money again the moment Harris announced her campaign.

I guess maybe those rich bastards finally learned a thing or two about not throwing elections.

And that means…

…maybe we don’t have to wait ’til ’26 and ’28.

Maybe it’s not one last hold after all, before the spring.

Maybe the rules can change now.

Maybe Millennials and Zoomers are going to seize the moment this year.

If they do – if you do, if you go in, if you mean it, if you don’t waver and trip yourself up in details and personality and propaganda and purity tests and and and all of it…

…then…

…this year won’t just be a hold.

This year will be the fucking landslide we have needed for eight years now to wipe Trumpism and its like off the map for a century.

Wanna make that happen?

France and England have shown us the way, and christ, I want to make that happen.

How about you? You up for it? You ready to do the work?

Let’s go, then. Everybody.

All in.

104 days remain.

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

The thing about how Laudna deals with the many terrible things that have happened to her throughout her life is that she (and tbh many of her fans) acts as though she has uniquely suffered in such a way that no one else possibly could understand her pain. But several of the other members of the Hells share experiences similar to hers.

Had suffering inflicted on her for the sake of something she wasn't involved in that concerned people greater than herself? Orym experienced that when the Vanguard murdered Derrig and Will as part of a test, to see if the theory that Vax would appear to protect Keyleth was true. And sure Orym didn't die that day; he wasn't murdered as a part of this the way Laudna was. But this did serve as the impetus for him to leave his home and start wandering Tal'dorei, the same as being murdered and waking up on the Sun Tree did for Laudna.

Wandered the world for decades unable to make meaningful connections or really properly settle in one place because of something traumatic that happened in her past? Chetney's family all left him without a word at the start of the Icelost Years; he lost both his home and his family in one fell swoop, the same as Laudna. He then spent decades wandering the world afraid to make sincere connections in case those people left him too. He also can understand what it's like to be scorned and rejected specifically for the kind of creature that he is: Chetney's a werewolf in a world where such people are considered monsters by many.

Has the voice of some powerful, dark force whispering in her ear telling her she's nothing without her and needs her power to protect those she cares about? Dorian had that exact thing with the Spider Queen. Lolth preyed hard in his insecurities and feelings of inadequacy in order to try and convince him to put on the Circlet of Barbed Vision and become her Champion. She specifically leaned into the idea that he needed her power to protect his friends in much the same was Delilah is leaning into the idea that Laudna needs her power to keep Imogen safe. The message from both was: "You need me to protect that ones you love."

Laudna has experienced and continues to experience some very terrible things, but those experiences and the resulting pain aren't unique to her in the world of Exandria; they aren't even unique within her own personal circle. But she focuses so heavily on her own trauma that she doesn't notice this, and in fact specifically holds up her own trauma as greater when the pain of others is brought up ("Don't speak to me of loss"). It means she loses out on the wisdom the others could give her in dealing with her own life: building up a new life after a major and pointless traumatic event from Orym, learning to truly trust and open up to other people again from Chetney, and pushing back against the literal voice in your head telling you you're shit from Dorian. Instead she wallows in her own trauma blind to what it's truly doing to her and to the people around her.

[sorcerous-caress]

Faux Innocence | Halsin

[Smut, purity kink, slightly toxic Halsin, Durge reader, nb!reader]

Halsin has developed a false impression of who you are. Despite being a bhaalspawn, you were the picture of purity in his eyes and he let his urges to corrupt you take over.

If someone were to ask Halsin what true purity was, he'd merely point in your direction.

For how could anything else compare to you? How could the petals of a budding spring flower compete with you? Not even the sweet nectar of a honeysuckle rivals the sweetness of your innocence.

Is what he sincerely believed, constantly preached and defended with vigour against any conflicting view or opinion someone had of you.

He might have not gotten to know you much, but from what he has seen and through all the troubles you went through to help him and his grove, to help cure this land from its curse and save a child of nature, he has a solidified view about you.

A maniac? A murder? A bhaalspawn? Halsin will soon believe that the sun was blue rather than these blatant lies. You couldn't hurt a fly if you tried, you were the picture of a meek newborn deer in his eyes.

No matter how many times your companions attempted to tarnish his glass stained picture of you, it would never shatter.

Yet you accepted his advances, his proposition in broad daylight. Halsin was sure of one thing that day, and it's that you might have been even more naive than he thought you were, to allow a man you've barely known to bed you so easily.

It almost felt sinful of him to wait for you in the woods that night. His neglected cock throbbing and aching against his clothes, tip leaking pearly white droplets at the thought of your wide eyed stare and sweet smile when you finally arrived.

He was gentle, he really tried to be as gentle as he could. The most careful and delicate he has been in his entire lifetime, a stark contrast to his wild nature and usual intense sexual experiences.

Speaking slowly, softly. Allowing you space and asking you if you're sure multiple times in an almost condensing way. The man would coo at your endearing enthusiasm as he patted your head, amused by your innocence.

Your companions really don't know you at all huh? Spinning false tales of you allowing a priest of loviatar to whip and inflict pain on you so publicly, claiming you were flirting with the devil women after Wyll. They even had the audacity to imply that blood and gore turn you on!

These thoughts only make him chuckle, he has never heard anything so bizarre in his life before.

Halsin picks you up, you fit perfectly into his big arms. The urge to protect you, keep you in his embrace from this scary world that would devour you at the first sign of weakness. It's a miracle that someone as sweet and innocent as you managed to remain pure for so long.

As much as he wants to push you against the tree, he fears its bark might be too harsh for your delicate skin. He only wishes for your utmost comfort as he trails up your neck. Giving your forehead a tender peck before pressing his lips against yours, his tongue politely and wordlessly asking permission for your lips to part.

The kiss is slow, tender, and drives him crazy. He is using all of his self restraint, burying every depraved perverted instinct of his deep down being so careful not to tighten his grip around you.

You're like a fragile fledgling of a hummingbird that entrusted him with its delicate wings.

He asks permission before removing your clothes, swallowing down his saliva at the idea of finally seeing your naked body.

He interprets your casual nod as a sign of being embarrassed, what a timid shy thing you are. May Silvanus grant his soul mercy and give him strength for he is barely holding back. His cock painfully hard and left ignored for the sake of you.

The night is warm and calm, the perfect atmosphere to slowly strip you down. The moonlight illuminating your breathtaking figure as his large hands glide down your soft body.

You belong in a soft bed with featherly pillows, he thinks, covered in silk and veiled by white lace. Maybe even a nest of wool or cotton, as delicate and as precious as an egg, you deserved the same protection.

When he reached between your legs, his breath stopped for a second. Eyes drinking in your most intimate parts on display for him. How he longed to drink you up, swallow you like honey down his throat.

You deserve a hot wet mouth to grind into each night, both to wake you up in the early morning with his head between your legs, and to put you to sleep late at night with your thighs above his shoulders.

Before he realises it, his lips are already on you. Sucking and licking against your heat with the hunger of a dying man. You tasted like pure ambrosia and he was getting addicted.

Nothing could pull him away from you at that moment, no one could convince him to let go before you had your orgasm. How sweet your moans sounded as he drove his tongue further in, as he sucked and swallowed.

And when you held his hand, when you entangled your fingers with his instead of pulling on his hair, he almost came untouched. This simple innocent act of holding hands while he devoured you on his knees, while he shamelessly let his gluttony take charge, it drove him mad with lust.

That hand could never hold a knife or a dagger, he thought, there is no way these delicate fingers could handle a weapon. They were made to be held, to be kissed and to be pinned down.

The melody of your moans echoed through the night, getting louder as you approached release. Halsin felt a sense of pride when he saw the hints of tears at the corner of your eyes, what an intense experience his simple act must have been for someone as pure as you.

“Halsin…please” you breathlessly said, “I'm close, I'm…”

Your next words, asking his permission to cum, were his last straw.

For your orgasm never came. Halsin pulled his mouth away with a wet pop as his primal urges took over. Picking you up again and bending you against his chest, your legs over his shoulder as he kept you in the air.

“Please bear with me, I deeply apologise for this.” you felt something large prop your entrance, his eyes were glazed over.

He's an awful man, he thinks as he plunges his cock into your wet hole. He couldn't resist, he couldn't control himself, he couldn't not be greedy and selfish against your temptations.

The sudden intense change of position, the sudden insertion and the large cock pumping in and out of you with a trail of precum painting your walls, was more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your previous denied orgasm coming back twice as strong. Halsin kept fucking you through your release, pace never slowing down as you cried in pleasure and and your insides squeezed him fist tight.

Drool slipped from the corner of your lips, pleasure clouding your brain and making everything look hazy. Halsin lapped it up with the look of a hungry wolf about to devour its prey, kissing you again and pushing you down deeper onto his cock.

He wanted to ruin you, to steal your purity so it's his forever, to share his filthy fantasies with you until you're as much of a pervert as he is. To fuck each and every one of your holes, to fill you with his cum and bulge your stomach.

Apology after apology were whispered against your lips between each kiss, his brutal pace sending you into overwhelming sensitivity from your fresh orgasm. You could only hold on to his strong chest as you were used like a flashlight, fucked and made to cum so easily by the arch-druid.

The idea of keeping you on his cock forever stirs something dark inside him, to have you warming his cock each moment of the day. To stretch you out on it and bounce you slowly until you cum yourself to sleep, have you all pretty and ready on his lap to be fucked. He would protect you, he would treasure you and he would show you what's your true purpose.

Instead of having to worry about you each time you went out on these adventures, never taking him with you and coming back covered in blood courtesy to your careless companions no doubt. How could they let someone so meek and innocent even see the sight of blood?

You're crying his name, hugging him closer to you. Moving your hips as much as you can to match his pace. Even now you're indulging this selfish man's desires? Fucking yourself against him so he'd give you his cum faster? You really are a sweet thing aren't you. The most adorable person he has ever met.

He was never one to abuse his authority or power, but something tells him if you were a cute fresh druid in training in the grove, he would've made you his personal assistant since day one. Gave a million excuses and reasons on why it should be him to train you, to hold you and show you the proper positions to cast spells, to give you the permission to visit the arch-druid chambers any time.

But maybe even nature is too brutal for you. The sight of that bloodied brutalised squirrel just above the elevator still confuses him to this day, apparently animals can still be hostile whilst in a safe sanctuary like the grove. At least he fully assumed it was another animal that had taken its life.

And Halsin will make sure you never see that side of nature, only the most soft and cherry picked ascents. Have you tending to the flowers and caring for the baby bunnies. Maybe, feeding the kittens seems much more your style.

Your cries pull him out of his fantasy of what a different life with you could've been. There are tears going down your eyes from the intense pleasure and the most cute hiccups and pleads for him to please fill you with his cum, to please push his cock deeper in.

How could he ever say no? It would be criminal to deny you anything.

Halsin was already on edge for so long, it only takes a couple more kisses against your neck, a touch of your curious fingers against his pointy ears and he's spilling his seed inside you. Marking you with his cum and filling you the brim.

His cock pulses inside you as it empties itself, he keeps it plugging you and not allowing a single drop of his cum to escape.

Looking at your eyes, he wonders what you're thinking about in that pure mind of yours. Completely unaware to the depravity of gore inside, to your wandering thoughts about snapping his neck, to your dark urges for him to choke you with his large fists as he fucks you against the harshest tree.

No, instead he kisses your forehead. Smiling as sweat glistens on his skin, he keeps you on his lap.

[haine-kleine]

I think enough time has passed that we can finally talk about how utterly useless and disappointing the final act of Dabi's arc ended up being.

The most disappointing thing of all is how fucking cool almost every setup was. Enji finally seeing the full extent of the damage he did to his son, his mind almost gone and his body about to blow up, and deciding to sacrifice his own life. Dabi developing an ice quirk, like his mother's. Rei coming there using her powerful ice quirk to save both Touya and Enji's lives, because she felt responsible for her part in driving Touya to this point. Fuyumi and Natsuo following Rei because they couldn't sit idly, while their family members are risking their lives. Shouto going above and beyond his limit to save Touya's life and then praising Touya's natural talent the way no one ever did.

This picture. The eerily happy what could have been, what both Touya and Enji wanted, a happy family where they both are accepted and loved, where Touya is healthy and doesn't hurt himself. Except he is missing an arm now, a new self-inflicted injury transferred from the real world, where the family is as far from happy as they could be. Enji is also missing an arm, the mutual self-sacrifice which was payment to getting Enji to finally fully see Touya and accept him, accept his own role as the parent responsible for this child of his.

This was the exact moment. That first frame is such a masterpiece it's much more thought provoking than the entirety of what followed. Look at your son's disfigured face. See the monster that you created. The fire that you have ignited. It's hotter than your own Hellfire and it won't ever stop burning, as long as either of you is alive. There's no end to this hurt. It's been hurting him since he was a child, and now it has spread to you. You did this to yourself.

And one thing I can tell for sure is that these chapters are going to go hard as hell in the anime. These surrealistic frames, followed by blockbuster-worthy action sequences. But what comes after that? And then nothing. It's like Horikoshi made these chapters specifically to work well for the anime adaptation. Because there is no resolution or even conclusion to any of the things that happened here.

Enji and Dabi losing their arms had so little meaning Horikoshi himself forgot about it and gave Enji the missing arm back in chapter 425. We never get to see the state of Touya's body after the war, so him losing his arm also loses his meaning, as he is covered in a full-body metal restraining jacket. Did they provide him with a prosthetic? If not, are they going to? Is he even going to notice the missing arm, or did it truly not matter? Or perhaps he somehow grew his arm back, the same way he grew his melted eyeballs back? Who even knows.

What about the family? Rei clearly cared a whole lot, enough to risk her own life to attempt to save Touya from certain death because she knew there's no point to rely on Endeavor , but now that the heat of the moment is over, how does she feel about what happened? Does she insist on getting to visit Touya more often? Does she reflect on her own experience of spending ten years in isolation and try to give Touya his freedom? Did Shouto share the story of Touya coming back home after his death with her and his siblings? How does she feel about it? How do they feel about their dearly missed brother willingly choosing to abandon them?

On that topic, how do Fuyumi and Natsuo feel about Touya at all? We do get to hear about Fuyumi's desire to talk more with Touya, but what does she want to talk to him about? Does she want to share her own life with him, to tell him about her old job and the kids she was teaching? About the many family dinners she had been organizing for their family despite it falling apart? Or does she want to ask him about his life? Is she at all curious what he had been up to? Does she want to know how he ended up a villain, why did he keep burning himself despite almost dying from it as a mere child? Would Touya himself want to talk to Fuyumi, or does he still think his sister will never understand him? If so, will she try to push through and repair their sibling bond, try to show him that mending their family is possible and she wants to see him a part of the healed Todoroki family, eating dinner with the rest of them?

Natsuo... I don't even know where to start. Todoroki Natsuo when he first appeared in the manga and Todoroki Natsuo from Dabi's dance onwards are two wildly different characters and the development that made him change so much is skipped entirely in the story.

The entire point of Natsuo's character conflict was being unable to let go of the past, when the rest of the family was demanding he puts the past behind them and looks towards the future. Why exactly was he so fixated on the past? Two reasons. One, his father's neglect of him and abuse of his brothers. He is indignant about what Enji put Shouto through, still angry about Shouto being isolated from his siblings despite the younger freely interacting with him and Fuyumi for quite some time since before the manga plot had started. He outright says that his father had killed Touya. And that's the second reason, his close bond with Touya. While the rest of the family, even their mother, have been able to grieve and let go of Touya, Natsuo has been haunted by him ever since the day of his death.

Their relationship was a toxic one, that is true, Touya was traumadumping his extremely unhealthy feelings on a little kid who was too little to process or sympathize with what the was going through. But from the way Natsuo talks about Touya after his death it's obvious that Natsuo cared a lot about him, still cares. He is indignant about the unfairness of what happened to Touya precisely because he knows the most out of all family members about what his experience was like. It's pretty clear that the reason he stubbornly refuses to forgive and accept Endeavor the way his mother and siblings did, despite genuinely believing himself to be a bad person for it, is not just because Enji was neglecting him as a kid but because since he was a kid he was exposed to the horror of what Touya's life was like. He was watching a person begging to be helped hurt himself everyday and he didn't know how to help him or stop him. Hell, it's pretty straightforwardly implied that his career choice was impacted by his inability to help Touya, who was covered in burns at all times, and Rei with Shouto.

So with all of that in mind, Natsuo's resolution feels fairly... bizarre. As far as his reunion with the dead brother he was bitterly mourning for 11 years, the one who showed up back from the dead expressing the exact same sentiment Natsuo has been trying to express to his family, 'The past never dies', goes, it's this:

This wouldn't even be so bad if there was some followup to this. Natsuo was highstrung with nerves, he was terrified at the thought of both of his parents and his brother dying for real this time (except it's Fuyumi who gets this line). Natsuo apologizing to Touya for saying this, after the climax of the battle is behind them. Anything. Because this framing with no followup at all makes it seem like Natsuo's feelings about his oldest brother is just being annoyed at him for constantly causing trouble to others, because he was venting to him so much when they were kids. If his were any other character, this claim would hold some weight, after all the dynamic was genuinely toxic, but all Natsuo did for the entirety of the Hellish Todoroki family subplot was causing others trouble by his inability to cope with his feelings. You know, the same thing Touya is doing right now, was doing as long as he was in the Todoroki household. Hypocritical much?..

Then we get to look at the final pages of the Todoroki family's conclusion, and it's all about Natsuo once again disrupting the fragile family harmony and peace by announcing he never wants to see Endeavor again. Also he is getting married. For someone who was so held back by the past for 200+ chapters, this sure is a big leap of faith into the future. What caused this development? Touya reappearing back into his life? Did Natsuo make his brother the symbol of that past that was holding him back and decide to abandon him, never see neither him nor Endeavor again?

Maybe so, maybe not. Does he hold hard feelings against Touya, because the real living Todoroki Touya is too different for him to accept as the brother whose ghost had been haunting him for a decade? Is it being a villain that he can't forgive? Or is he simply unable to cope with everything right now and puts off the conversation with his brother because that would be too hard right now? Isn't that the same thing Rei and Enji were doing for Touya's entire childhood?

That's the thing with this ending, you can ask a million questions and make up endless interpretations but you won't get any answers or reasonable conclusions to any of these character's stories, save for Endeavor.

And what is his ending? It's this.

He has moved on! Doesn't matter what happened to his original family, because he's got himself a new one. He is moving towards the future, surrounded by love, support and acceptance. It's the same thing as this picture!

Minus the inconvenient and explanation-demanding children subplots. That would require too much space and effort and the story needed to be finished asap. So? Why resolve the Todoroki family mess when you can give Enji a whole new family of his own? What happened to the other, original children? Who even knows. Who cares? Definitely not Enji, he has new ones.

What about Touya? Well, he was already accepted by his father once, that's enough for him. About his family? As far as we know, they left him all alone, crying, dying. About his missing arm? About his ice quirk? About his relationship with his siblings? With the League of Villains? The living villains, Spinner, Mister Compress, his cousin Geten, Skeptic? Who even cares. Definitely not this story.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

fun things to inflict on a pilot who bases his value on how useful he is to others:

temporary blindness >:3c

141 accidentally pierce an old mustard gas canister during an operation. Nik takes the brunt.

cw: injury, temporary blindness, distressed character.

Price paced up and down the base hospital ward wringing his hands as he waited for news, his heart in his throat. The mission had gone south so bloody quickly, and no matter how many times he retraced their steps, Price couldn't pinpoint the exact action that had caused such a monumental fuck up.

Old world war one bunker. Old old. The perfect place for a terrorist cell to store chemical weapons, or at least a lead to them. They had jumped early that morning with Nik because it was in east Germany and he had the knowledge they needed to break through the security systems. The USSR had used it as a base of operations during the Cold War, so without Nik, getting in would have been like chipping away at granite with a toothpick.

They got in. They secured the intelligence - no bloody weapons though - and were on their way out. A small detachment of enemy combatants had infiltrated through a different entrance that hadn't been recorded on the schematics they were working from. There had been an exchange of fire. A stray bullet caught a canister and...

Nik ignored the most fundamental rule of chemical warfare. You sort your own fucking mask first. But no, the stupid wanker grabbed for Gaz's first, because he was closest to the explosion and had only a split second to react.

Nik had been too slow with his own as a result.

Holding Nik in the casevac had been one of the most difficult experiences of Price's life. The skin lesions across his face had been like second degree burns, his eyes swollen shut, streaming. Anywhere there was moisture, the old gas had attacked. Despite the wounds, Price had seen the terror on his face as he tried to wrench the damp gauze off. He couldn't see.

"John, ya nye mogu videt! John... gdye ty? Gdye ty!" His usually calm, sombre voice, with its laid back drawl, broken and cracked in desperation.

In the end, Price had taken the decision to sedate him in the heli, one of those big hands clenched in his to keep him anchored as the drugs brought his heart rate under control and soothed his panic. He had lashed out at Gaz blindly - "otyebis ot menya!" - but between them they had managed to get the sedative into his thigh.

There were other wounds; bumps, scrapes, but none as serious.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Gaz had rasped, chucking the needle back into the bag. "This is my fault."

"No," Price had shaken his head. "Not your burden to carry. G'won, go eat somethin'."

The door at the end of the hall opened and the doctor summoned him with a flick of the head. "Well?" Price demanded, ignoring the pursed lipped irritation he got in return.

"It's temporary," the doctor said, his arms folding. "The gas was old, degraded. Still potent enough to cause damage, but with the right treatment, he'll get his eyesight back."

"How long?"

"Difficult to say. Four to six weeks for the skin lesions to heal. His body will decide on the rest... uh, captain," the doctor reached out a hand as Price tried to walk past, "there is a risk of long-term dyspnea, respiratory problems, awful stuff mustard gas, it attacks the central nervous system too, it can cause changes in mentation, and I understand from his file that he has a medical history of--"

"--I know what's in the file."

"We may be looking at more damage here than just his eyes. But only time will tell."

When Price stepped through the door, Nik startled, looking in his direction even though the heavy bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing. Price spoke softly as he closed the door at his back. "S'just me, Nik. Easy."

Price nodded tightly, walked by and shouldered his way into the next ward. He found Nik's room but hesitated outside. Nik was awake. He was trying to grope around the table in front of him, searching.

"Captain, it is... well, I would say good to see you but..." He gestured vaguely at his head, his wry smirk shaky, and then that hand returned to patting around the table.

"Did they explain everything? Did you..." ...understand. Fuck, Price didn't understand half of the medical jargon, so he wouldn't be surprised if Nik struggled in his fourth language to parse what they were saying. Fourth out of eight. Asking felt like an insult to Nik's intelligence. The doctor's comment about mentation lodged in Price's throat like a shard of glass.

"Da. It will heal but there may be some future complications, I..." Nik suddenly slammed his fist against the table, anger twisting his mouth into a snarl, "..blyat, where is my phone? I need.." Nik's voice cracked and his chin tilted down with the shame of it, trailing off into miserable silence.

Price reached for him and tried not to let the resulting flinch shred his heart. Once Nik realised it was Price's hands and not whatever phantom his mind has conjured, he relaxed. Price sat down on the edge of the bed. "You don't need t' do anythin' but heal. We've got yer covered."

The way Nik's jaw twitched, teeth clenching at the back, his shoulders rising a little towards his ears; Price could see the clawing discomfort without needing to see his expression.

"You're gonna have to trust us, Nik. I need yer to trust me."

"I do," Nik croaked. "It is... This is not your burden to carry."

"Even if you weren't who you are, you still got injured in one of my operations."

"I let you down. And now I am useless." Nik's other hand clenched into a fist at his side, making the finger monitor creak under the strain.

"Temporarily out of commission. Not useless."

Nik turned his head away, refusing to hear it. They sat in silence, Price's thumb stroking back and forth over Nik's knuckles, giving him a point to focus on that wasn't his burning skin or the darkness of his vision.

"Nik, short of turnin' me over to Al Qatala, you could never let me down," Price said, finally.

Now was the time. Now Nik needed to hear it more than ever.

"You... mean the world to me. I..." he rubbed at his face, tugging at his whiskers, "...I love you. And when I saw you go down, my heart stopped for a second. The world stopped. Believe it or not, I was glad you were screamin' bloody murder in that chopper, cause that meant you were still here."

Nik drew a stuttering breath, but he didn't say anything. The man who had a one-liner or a bit of sass for every occasion sat in mute silence. It made Price ache in a way he never had before.

"'M not gonna abandon you, Nik. Wouldn't have even if this had been permanent. An' I know you don't believe me. I know. But... 'm gonna show ya. And you can grumble and cuss at me 'til the cows come home."

Nik's head fell back against the pillow and he sniffed, scowling with a muttered curse.

"You olrigh'?" Price squeezed his hand.

"Da. I am crying like little girl and it is stinging my eyes."

Price chuckled, patting their joined hands against his own thigh. "Soppy git."

That had to be a good sign. Tear ducts were what the eyes used to heal and maintain themselves, right? And he could feel the tears. Positive. This was positive. Price lifted Nik's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, lingering there to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nik swallowed, his fingers tightening in Price's grip. "If I had known that losing my eyes would have earned me John Price, I would have cut them out years ago."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," Price said incredulously, always somewhat taken aback by the intensity with which Nik expressed himself when it was just them. He sighed. "Yer've had me all this time. I just... I'm just not as brave as you are."

Nik huffed. "Bravo Six is the bravest man I know."

"Only for some things. Not feelin' particularly brave right now, and you're the one in the gurney."

Nik tilted his head towards Price, so desperate to see his face. Price was glad he couldn't. His damn eyes were watering. "Then, I will be brave for you. This, I can do without my eyes."

Price smiled and made sure Nik could feel it against his palm, promising him silently in that moment that he wouldn't waste a single second more of their time together on this bloody earth. "Sounds like a plan."

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Dragon Riders Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐲 — lady l: this turned out longer than I expected, but that's ok. I'm rewatching Race to the Edge and I ended up thinking about this. Hope you like it! 💛💜

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, unhealthy platonic relationships, mention of death and implicit torture.

❝🐲pairing: platonic yandere!dragon riders x gender neutral!reader, platonic yandere!dragons x gender neutral!reader.

How you met the Dragon Riders may depend. Maybe you were from Berk and grew up alongside them and thus became one of them. Or maybe you were from a far away place and met them by chance. Regardless of how you met them, you became part of the group immediately.

Hiccup was interested in you and invited you to become part of the Dragon Riders and his friends fully agreed with their leader. You were warmly welcomed and your members and dragons became close to you quickly.

Having your own dragon yourself, you had some fighting experience and knew how to deal with these beasts. So, you agreed to become part of the Dragon Riders and that was the beginning of their obsession.

Hiccup is the leader and is very fair, he has always known how to deal with everything his way and it has always worked out. He is gentle and protective, sometimes becoming suffocating. He just wants to make sure you're okay, always hovering over you and making sure you're happy and safe.

He's fair, but when it comes to you, that disappears quickly. Gods forbid if anything happened to you, he would be ruthless. You can break all the rules and you will get away with anything, Hiccup would never punish you. He is very soft to you and only you.

Toothless is an incredibly intelligent dragon, similar in many ways to his rider. He clung to you the same way his best friend did. It's very common to see him seconding you around, imitating you and just being protective. Toothless will live up to his title as "the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself" when it comes to protecting those he loves. And he loves you.

Very affectionate too, he loves receiving affection from you, lying on your lap, or letting you rub his scales. You swear you hear the dragon purring when you do this. Toothless would love to take you flying with him and Hiccup. Just the three of you.

Astrid was more suspicious at first, wary when you became part of the group, but soon all the mistrust and suspicion she had disappeared as she warmed up to you. She is extremely strong and takes what she wants and Astrid will have no problem taking you for herself as well.

She will love teaching you how to fight and practicing with you is one of her favorite things to do with you. Astrid is very possessive of you and tends to fight with anyone who spends more time than she would like with you. She will have no qualms about killing anyone who poses a threat to you.

Stormfly is very intelligent and protective, very reminiscent of her rider's characteristics. She's not that affectionate, but she shows her affection for you in more subtle ways, like gently bumping her head on your shoulder and allowing you to stroke her tail.

She likes it when you feed her chicken or play with her, as a form of training. Stormfly would never hurt you, however, it is quite common to see her burying you under the snow as a joke.

Fishlegs is extremely intelligent and uses this to his advantage, his limitless knowledge of dragons, science and history makes him very insightful. He was the second, after his leader, to warmly welcome you into the group, pulling you into a loving hug.

He is not that demanding of your attention, but he appreciates the moments you spend together. He would love to teach you all about dragons and meditate with you. He's a real teddy bear, a friend and you know you can trust him with anything. Fishlegs is the kindest of them all and would never inflict harm on anyone, at least not physically.

Meatlug is an especially affectionate and needy dragon, always wanting to receive as much affection and attention as she can get from you and her rider.

She is very gentle and likes to have her belly rubbed, usually lying down in front of you with her belly up to receive pets. Meatlug is very calm and would hardly hurt anyone unless it poses a risk to you or Fishlegs.

The twins are a double package, when one becomes obsessed, the other does too. It doesn't matter which one of them became attached to you first, as they will fight about it and claim you for each other. Tuffnut and Ruffnut are always fighting for your attention and often end up forgetting about other things when they are fighting over you.

But once they both learn to share better, the fights will lessen and they will spend more time by your side. They demand a lot from you, wanting you to participate in their games and stay with them. Tuffnut and Ruffnut will have no problem fighting or killing anyone for you.

Barf and Belch are just like their riders, one body, two heads, and two brains. They are quite playful and like to scare you sometimes, but they are quite protective and will protect you with their lives if necessary.

They are different dragons, despite sharing the same body, and they act differently sometimes. Barf is calmer while Belch likes to mess with you. They are quite affectionate and like to rub their heads against yours as a form of affection.

Snotlout is the very definition of chaos and a difficult Viking to deal with. He accepted you with open arms, smiling at you and his eyes shining. He is very explosive and difficult to deal with at times, occasionally leading him to do stupid things that are fixed by his friends.

He is very close to you and acts kindly way, although he always flirts with you. Snotlout is quite protective and will kill and deal with anyone who dares to harm you. His anger is not to be taken lightly. He constantly gets into fights with the other riders over you.

Hookfang is essentially the version of his rider in a draconic form, the debauchery and bad mood have been with him for a long time. He is quite calm around you, sometimes poking you and asking for affection but nothing exaggerated. He is not a needy dragon, but he likes to receive your attention sometimes.

He is less close to you, but Hookfang protects you with claws and fire, his body igniting when a threat is close to you. He will have no problem burning alive anyone who threatens you, always with the consent of his rider.

Everyone is incredibly protective of you and will protect you from any situation. Especially when it involves a fight with the Dragon Hunters. They can't risk you getting hurt. If something were to happen to you, they will be ruthless and cruel. No one can mess with one of them without paying the consequences.

Becoming a Dragon Rider was a good thing for you, not only did you make friends for life, but an overprotective family that will not allow any harm to be done to you. Loyalty between you is the main trait you all share and there is nothing they won't do for you.

[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession Part 2

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: Peter Pan is loose in Storybrooke with revengeful schemes. Fortunately for you, the heroes and villains have a plan to stop him.

A/N: Thank you for the kind comments left on An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1! They really motivated me to write a second part.

Careful not to trip over any headstones, you paced the forest’s floor in a restless manner. A few yards away Mr. Gold stretched out a hand, attempting to undo the magical wards Regina had placed around her vault. Bell was behind him offering silent encouragement for his swift success.

Tinkerbell, Baelfire, and Captain Hook stood off to one side; their faces betraying various degrees of distrust and doubt. Mary Margret, David, and Emma were in a separate group, talking in hushed voices. They seemed to be having an argument.

That left you and Henry alone. You stole a glance towards the boy who was still trapped in Pan’s body. For the hundredth time that day, you cursed yourself and your big mouth. Speech is silver, but silence is golden.

Oh, how you wished you had remembered that saying when accidentally telling Pan that he was hot. Why did you have this knack for getting yourself into these almost laughable scenarios? At least, it would have been laughable if you weren’t the person in it. Right now, the set of circumstances was terrifying.

At any moment, Pan could command his shadow to rip your own shadow from you, or worse abduct you. And what would happen then? You would be at his mercy until the others managed to switch Henry and Pan to their rightful bodies. If they ever did.

You knew from Henry’s storybook and real-life experiences that good somehow always did triumph in the end, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any casualties. What if this was the one time you didn’t make it to see the light of day?

Henry noticed you staring at him and raised an eyebrow in question, which sent another ripple of unease down your spine. Gods above and below, he was attractive when he did that.

In truth he was attractive all the time, but that cute little eyebrow quirk made your heart do a flip. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t Pan, he was Henry who was your dearest and closest friend for many years and someone you didn’t feel for in that way.

And even if he was Peter Pan, he would want to inflict such torment on everyone here in the graveyard that they would beg for death’s sweet release to escape him.

Peter Pan should not be the type of person who turned your insides into mush, your legs to jelly, made your heart beat faster and faster until it would burst from your chest leaving a bloody and gaping wound behind, and grant the death you craved for so you would not have to face the consequences of admitting to Pan himself that he was blessed genetically!

“Can you stop looking at me like that?” Henry’s words broke you out of your wild and frenzied thoughts. He shifted his weight to his other foot, avoiding your gaze and went on, “Like you want to kiss or stab me. Or both. It’s pretty weird.”

Hoping against all hope that you weren’t blushing, you let out a big sigh and dragged a hand down your face. You had to get these turbulent feelings under control for Henry’s sake. Being stuck in his great-grandfather’s body with his friend ogling him must have been a nightmare.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just have a lot of thoughts running through my mind and–” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think we’ll win this time.”

He was startled at your blunt statement. “What? Of course we will. We have to. All we have to do is get me in my body and Pan in his body. Then we’ll imprison him and we’ll win.”

You snorted at your friend’s naiveté. You were sure that Mr. Gold had something more in mind than imprisonment for his father. The Pied Piper clearly couldn’t be stopped by simple incarceration; he had thousands of tricks up his sleeve to free himself.

Pan needed to die. As tasteless as killing was, what other option was there? You tried to cast away your misgivings about the possibility of overcoming Pan. You had to believe that victory and survival would be on your side, which was easier said than done.

“I’m afraid that Pan will put us all through the nine circles of hell. And I-I can’t go through that again.” Tears blurred your vision and your knees wobbled so bad that Henry had to help you stand up right as unbidden memories leaped into your mind about your hellish existence in a life lived long ago.

“It’ll be okay. My mom will save us. She’s the savior, it's kinda her thing.” Henry knew about your past. He read the story in his book, but that didn’t mean he would fully understand the terrors you had endured or why everything seemed so hopeless. You heard a sudden whoosh and saw the vault’s door creak open.

“Shall we?” Mr. Gold marched into the gloomy interior.

Emma, Mary Margret, David, Tinkerbell, Baelfire, Bell, and Captain Hook followed him. Emma ordered, “Wait here until we know the coast is clear.”

Normally you wouldn’t obey and would rush head first into danger, but a moment was needed to calm your addled mind. Besides, if Pan was in there, you weren’t too eager to see him. You took hold of your senses and forced air up your nose and out your mouth. This wasn’t the time to have a breakdown.

You needed to be composed for Henry's sake, even with his newly acquired height, he looked up to you for how to react to the ongoing madness in Storybrooke. Well, he used to, maybe that changed in the last twenty-four hours with you acting like a twitterpated school girl.

You heard Emma yell, “We’re clear down here!”

You and Henry raced downstairs to see the group clustered around Regina. The mayor was disoriented and brushing invisible flecks of dust off her pants. She was in the middle of saying, “–missed all the signs. I just wanted to believe he still needed me to be his mother.”

Without missing a beat, the boy next to you soothed her fear. “I still do.”

Regina gasped, “Henry?” She tilted her head in bewilderment and narrowed her eyes, not convinced he was her son.

He walked over and threw his arms around her. It was a touching scene to witness. Too bad you didn’t have a camera; it would be hilarious to have a picture of the former Evil Queen sharing an embrace with the Pied Piper.

Meanwhile, David asked a very pertinent question. “So what exactly did Pan come down here to get?” Mr. Gold raised his hand over an empty box before jerking it back, a frown fixed on his features. “What?”

A hint of exasperation leaked into the older man’s voice as he said, “Please tell me you didn’t keep it down here.”

Regina appeared to be almost contrite and she shrugged her shoulders. “Where else would I keep it?”

For a moment you thought Mr. Gold would strangle Regina with her own scarf or beat her with his cane. To what thing were they referring? You broke the heavy silence. “What is it? What did Pan take?”

Henry's grandfather answered, “He took the curse that brought everyone from the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke.”

You sat down next to Henry with an arm thrown around his shoulders. He was nervous, fiddling in his seat. You couldn’t blame him; this was a high stakes situation.

When Mr. Gold used the black fairy’s wand to place him back in his proper body, Henry would have to find his family and give Regina the scroll so she could destroy it before the curse transformed Storybrooke into the New Neverland and made everyone in town Pan’s slaves.

Worried for his well-being, Emma asked her son, “You doing okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m just ready to be me again.”

“Not much longer now, Henry. Not much longer.” Mr. Gold flipped through his spell book. “Once we have the wand, all will be as it should.”

“And then you can help your mom save the day,” you added with a smile. It was your turn to provide reassurance whether or not you actually had confidence in this plan. No, no, that wasn’t right. You had to have hope that this would work out.

You would imitate Mary Margret and fully accept that a happy ending was in the future. “And when this blows over, we can have another party at Granny’s. Hopefully with more cake than last time because the sisters really plowed through them.”

Henry liked your suggestion. “That’d be nice. And maybe I don't have to have a bedtime either?”

Regina vetoed the idea. “Absolutely not, young man. You need your sleep, especially after all of this.”

The sound of footsteps stopped a discussion of the correct amount of sleep for a boy Henry’s age. David walked into the room with the rest of the gang behind him. “She’s back. The Blue Fairy. She gave us the wand.”

You exclaimed, “That’s great! Do we need anything else?”

“Only one more item.” Mr. Gold crossed to a cupboard and retrieved a black cuff and explained, when Snow inquired, that it would render anyone with magic utterly powerless.

Regina snapped at Hook, “I haven’t forgotten about all that, by the way.”

“May I see your wrist, Henry?” Ignoring her comment, he placed the cuff on his grandson. “I want to make sure that when my dear old dad awakes, that he’s weakened. This will block his powers. Now I enact the spell, you fall into a deep sleep and when you awake, you’re back in your own body.”

Regina told him, “And then you hang on to that scroll and you come find us as fast as you can.”

Henry contemplated their words then scoffed, “When I gave my heart to Pan, I thought I was being a hero… I'm sorry.”

You patted him on the back. David was about to speak, but you spoke first. “It was stupid thing to do, but it’s not like anyone here hasn’t done anything that stupid too.” You didn’t pay attention to the glares a few select people sent your way, and instead focused on Henry’s laugh.

Mr. Gold said it was time and you stood up as Henry laid back on the divan, apprehensive of what was to come soon. Everyone retreated a couple of steps back and watched the process. Mr. Gold tapped the wand on his forehead and, after a blinding flash of light, Pan’s body started violently convulsing.

“What’s happening?” Emma shared a concerned look with Baelfire.

“Henry’s spirit is leaving Pan’s body.”

You hoped Pan wasn’t anywhere near concrete. If Henry’s body dropped to the ground and hit his head, he was going to wake up with a bad ache. He stopped shaking and remained still.  “It worked!”

You were delighted the spell had been fortunate, however, some part of you was a tad sad. You wouldn’t be able to squish his cheeks again. You could try, but Pan would most likely chop your hands off for such an affront. No matter, there were more important things to do.

“Let’s go find our son.” Emma darted out of the shop with everyone except Mr. Gold and Pan accompanying her. “Where would he be?”

You proposed, “Let’s get Ruby or Granny! They’ll be able to track his smell!” Emma agreed with you and went to the diner to enlist Granny’s keen nose for the job. The elderly woman sniffed the air and it didn’t take long for her to pick up his scent. You ran down the street toward the clock tower and were overjoyed when you saw Henry—in his own body—run out of the library doors.

“It’s me! It’s me! It worked!” Both of his mothers enveloped him in a big hug. “Mom, Mom. I just saw you guys. You guys just saw me.”

 “But we didn’t see you.” Regina cupped his chin.

“And trust me that makes a real difference!” You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him tight, glad that Henry returned to his rightful body.

“Oh, he’s got it,” Emma said as her son gave her the scroll. She passed it to Regina. “It’s up to you now.”

The mayor hadn’t held the scroll for even five seconds when a bright flash of purple light illuminated from it and she passed out cold. “Regina! Regina!” You, Henry, Emma and Baelfire crouched next to her.

Dammit, with Regina unconscious, who could undo Pan’s curse? There couldn’t be that much time left. Emma continued to call Regina’s name and shake her. Gasping, Regina opened her eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just… I saw what needed to be done.”

“Mom, are you gonna be okay?”

You had a gut feeling that she wasn’t. As you suspected, she side-stepped his concern. “The important thing is you will be.”

The scroll vanished from Regina’s grasp. “No, he won’t.”

Your stomach dropped when you heard the dreaded voice. Your head whipped backwards to see Pan walking towards the group. Everyone backed up several paces. You shouted, “Watch out! He has the–”

You were cut short as an eerie red glow alighted over your and everybody else's bodies. It was as if molasses had coated your entire person, slowing down your movements until it hardened. The enchantment froze every single one of your limbs; it was difficult even to breathe.

Beaming from ear-to-ear, Pan finished your sentence. “Curse.  How observant that I do. Look at you all. A captive audience.” He took his time inspecting each and everyone of you. His gaze lingered on you last. “I could play with you like a pack of dolls, couldn’t I? You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

He pointed an accusing finger in your direction. He came closer and whispered, “I have a special treat for you for that wonderful but woefully timed statement you confessed to me. It was delightful to know the peculiar effect I have on you.”

You were grateful that your features were frozen to hide the terror swirling and building up inside you. Had you the ability to move, the road would have been sprayed with your vomit. Relief overtook you when Mr. Gold hobbled up to his father and gripped his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin could save everyone right? He growled, “Stay away from them.”

Pan performed the same freezing spell on his son. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you haven't learned your lesson, have you Rumple? You should’ve stayed where you were, cowering, but I suppose you wanted a front row seat when my little curse descends upon your woved ones. Glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Don’t worry. They’ll be more of that. For all of you.” Pan disappeared without a trace and you were released from his spell.

You collapsed to the ground in a heap. Your fingernails dug into the cracked pavement. Everything was numb. Around you the others were talking in frantic voices, trying to figure out a way to thwart Pan’s plan, to find a miracle to save the day.

Someone was crying out that the curse was here. In the distance, getting closer and closer, you saw the green smoke that signified the town’s demise. You failed. 

Nothing could be done about that. You would forget your memories, forget your family and friends, forget who you were and become Pan’s plaything.

The thick smoke obscured your surroundings and filled your lungs. Your brain was getting foggy; it was too exhausting to think. You should sleep. One final thought echoed through your mind—Peter Pan won.

[harlothane]

Theon and Fear - And at the end of fear...

George R R Martin’s ASOIAF focuses on the "human heart at war with itself". In doing so, it provides a compelling, complex and deeply touching exploration of human emotions. One of the dominant emotions the characters are faced with is fear.

I especially love how fear is shown in Theon's storyline. His backstory and the events unfolding in his six Clash of Kings chapters and seven Dance with Dragons chapters, taken alone, constitute a raw, emotional and unsettling account on the many faces of fear. What it does to people. How it changes them, motivates them, corrupts them and may regenerates them.

“Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?”

“That is the only time a man can be brave.”

There is no need for a long look at Theon’s storyline to see in which ways Eddard Stark’s infamous moral lesson applies to his struggles. Here is a character that commits crimes in the beginning of his storyline, goes through hell because of his misguided choices (led by his fear), finds his courage as he faces true terror and accomplishes one of the most selfless and brave acts in the series to save a girl.

I do feel like I’m missing pieces of the puzzle writing that, aren’t I?

The misstep, I think, is to draw too hastily a parallel between Theon and the other Winterfell boys around his age – Robb and Jon (it's a common issue in fandom and actually had a negative impact on the reading of Theon's storyline, I think. Read : x).

Unlike them, at the beginning of the story, Theon already knows fear. Both Jon and Robb had a decent, secure childhood. While Jon surely has grounds to feel dissatisfied with what life has to offer a bastard like him, he did not grow up in fear. At the age of nine, he probably had faced rejection, loneliness and disdain. But not true, traumatizing fear like nine-year old Theon had to.

19 year-old Theon in Winterfell has already been scarred by fear. He is not a knight of summer in that regard, as his entire personality is a product of fear, to the point where it becomes hard to pinpoint what his true self consists of exactly (that becomes evident as we are invited to his internal monologue in Clash, which is full of inconsistencies, rewrites and contradictions related to the way he sees himself).

We know for certain that, as the story begins, Theon is already familiar with the fear of rejection and humiliation (inflicted by his brothers and felt as an outsider in the North), the fear of losing his loved ones and his home (inflicted by war and the soldiers fighting that war) and some repressed kind of fear related to Euron and possibly his magic. He’s been abused and is still suffering from the lingering fear of death, cultural isolation/exclusion and loneliness.

What fascinates me with this storyline especially is that there is never an easy answer. It is a feature of ASOIAF as a whole, to be frank. I suppose that as a horror genre lover, I am especially drawn to the way Theon's story deals with fear. How it corrupts, how it paralyzes, how it regenerates.

Fear as corruption.

Theon, a “shy” child, “in awe” of his brothers, has crafted a personality to guard himself against the threats most frightful to him (humiliation, being unloved and unwanted, abandonment).

A personality that existed to guard himself against the world and more precisely, the men in power who could use him. A personality tailored to please his captors and his father, the ones his life depended on. His clothes, in this regard, are another part of the armor. Their purpose is to please, seduce or appease the ones whose approval Theon needs at the moment (though I truly do believe he likes his velvelt and silks, he still immediately suggests his father that he would change it if it would please him).

Living with those fears of being unloved and unwanted changed him profoundly as harrowing experiences always do. Fear is the one constant in his early life. His personality developed around it.

Theon mimics Dagmer Cleftjaw’s smiles because the warrior was one of the bravest men he knew in his early days and a hostage far from home needs to channel that tough, invulnerable spirit.

Theon was a child who lived in awe of his violent brothers, so as a young man he acts accordingly, as if spilling blood makes you worthy, as if life were a game to win no matter the cost for the weak and innocent (no matter the price children and mothers pay, no matter the price he himself paid for his father’s ambition!).

I know the Theon we meet in Clash isn’t the most agreeable person ever. It’s the point.

In truth, he is a hardly a person. As in, a human entity with consistent memories to ground him (even before Dance, he represses memories, seems to have forgotten a great deal about the Iron Islands and I believe we may learn more about this in Winds), and autonomous desires and hopes (in spite of himself, he is constantly trying to fit the expectations of the men he fears/wants to emulate – Eddard and Balon).

Even the way he expresses his sexual/sensual desires feels at times as a performance meant to impress or prove a point… read : x or x).

He doesn’t even have a future, and he knows that deep down. As Robb is crowned though and devise a plan with him to ally himself with the Islands, Theon’s hopes rose up and that is how suddenly there was in the sky a comet that heralded his bright future.

He seems like a “closed book” to the world around him, but he was more of a blank page, really.

A mess of fears stitched together with a smile. Fear really is the constant.

What would you do, if you were constantly afraid? Cut from the rare people and places that gave you a sense of security?

What would you do, if – that’s the greatest irony – you were surrounded by people who thought of you as a thing to be feared, an animal to be tamed.

Interestingly, Theon is known to be brave in battle, perhaps even reckless. Robb states it plainly: “Theon has fought bravely for us.” Dagmer Cleftjaw knows Theon “is no craven”. In Winterfell, he is ready to die with the few men who stayed with him.

Being shaped by fear did not make him a coward. It made him desperate and unreasonable. For one, Theon knows fear intimately and there is no greater terror than the unknown, after all. He knows war. He knows death. He is still haunted by the battle of Pyke.

Still, he is eager to march with Robb’s army. Still, he wishes he could have faced Jaime Lannister on the battlefield. And still, he would have died for Robb, he would have died for his father.

He shouldn’t be so eager to march with an army led by the people who hurt his own family so deeply. War traumatized him already. It separated him from his family. It obliterated his future, destroyed his prospects. But his fear of humiliation, rejection, loneliness – it overtakes all. Then again, I understand that Theon in Clash can be difficult to empathize with to some, but if you read his reaction with the knowledge that this is a person who is constantly in a state of true, agonizing fear, I think it changes your perspective a little.

The horrible outcome of all this is that by trying so desperately not to be seen as a weak thing people can use for their political gain, Theon becomes it. For Ramsay and Roose. That is not karma. That is the definition of a tragedy.

It has been said before: Ramsay is a secondary-(tertiary) character, he exists to embody Theon’s worst sins and fears. That is his nightmare, breathing and living and flaying every piece of a carefully crafted personality Theon made in the North to stop being afraid, to reclaim power and control over his fate.

Fear didn’t allow him to be brave. It made him desperate, easy to manipulate. He takes Winterfell in a foolish attempt to be the person he thinks he must become. The self-made Prince. The heir who returned in glory. A worthy son of Balon Greyjoy.

That is the story he tells himself and others. In truth, it becomes apparent he took Winterfell in a desperate attempt to make his “almost-home” his at last.

In a desperate attempt to belong somewhere he could have everything – power and recognition and love. It is the type of extreme decision you make when you let fear overtake your reason. Any other choice would have been more reasonable. It wouldn’t have saved him from fear, though.

Most of Theon’s bad choices are a result of fear. It made him crave power with the same intensity as he secretly wanted love and recognition. In Clash, Winterfell itself, the castle, its people, embody his fear of rejection, of being unloved and unwanted. He represses it. Until he can't escape it even in his dreams.

The two desires, to have agency/power and love, clash violently in Winterfell, an arc in which Theon’s starts to completely unravel as he does everything in his power to be a hard man like his father, like Eddard (no matter how contradictory), while spying the tiniest hint of affection or gratefulness in his captives’ eyes.

After all, in his own experience, it is possible for a captive to admire and crave his captor’s love.

To want to help them. To be part of their family. And he seemed to expect the same from the people of Winterfell. Even in Dance (because torture doesn’t erase your past trauma!), he still believes he could have reasonably expected them to help him

His constant fear has twisted his view on loyalty (you cannot be loyal to someone who imprisons you), love and desire (he links lust and violence), power and justice (“hard men rule the world”).

It corrupts his desires, even. Of all the sexual encounters, or thoughts, he has, none seems genuine with the exception of Esgred, who is not a real person but the embodiment of the nonchalant, confidant attitude he wishes he could adopt as easily. She is everything he cannot be. She belongs. She commands respect. She has a family. And as she divulges her real identity to him, Asha becomes someone to fear. She is in his place. She is him, the heir, the son, while he is nothing and nobody.

Fear as a paralyzer

It is not surprising that Theon would smother from early on the parts of his personality that made him sensitive to fear.

His need to belong brings only fear (he will never be part of the Stark family, but he still dreams of it until he buries that dream as well).

His empathy brings only fear (he demonstrates in Dance his ability to connect with broken people used by the ones in power he could have shared experiences with but couldn’t because of his fear of humiliation).

It shows one limit to Eddard’s reasoning. Fear, sometimes, changes you in such a way that it hinders your ability to be brave (as in, to make the most moral choice against your own immediate interest).

Growing up with constant fear drove Theon to stifle his empathy, making it hard for him to protect other people, as you would expect from a prisoner whose life is a bargaining chip that hinges on his father’s and his captor’s will, from a man who cannot even help himself.

Growing up in constant fear jeopardized Theon’s ability to make long-term, realistic plans for his future, as he barely has any stable support to hold onto. His entire existence does not belong to him. NB: In this regard, it is logical that most characters he is paralleled with throughout his story (Jeyne P, Barbrey, the dead lady Hornwood, Holly who has the same cocky smile and arrogance as his old self, Alannys with her white hair and even Dany…) are women, who are more likely to be stripped of agency, must fight to claim autonomy and struggle to regain a semblance of control over their destiny.

He has many faults, though it cannot be said in my opinion that he did have a good choice to make and that he simply chose wrong by trying to please his father. There were only bad roads that led to imprisonment, death or ruin for him. Theon realizes this in Dance: he cannot bring himself to imagine a bright future. No, he regrets not to have died with Robb. He knows his path was filled with fear either way.

Fear is a paralyzer. It does, in a sense, alter Theon’s capacity to grow and evolve.

Fear makes him an apt survivor (he’d survive a horror movie in messy “final girl” fashion), with a great potential for adaptation. But it corrupted him in the process. Led him to embrace a (faux) cynical attitude, to be over-zealous with his own captors to the point of risking his life for them and most of all, to opt for cruelty over mercy contrary to his own (sometimes contradictory) values – in Winterfell, he hurt others, and it haunts him, but he stands by his choices.

His fear of being mocked, used and humiliated drowns every other motivator.

He is so afraid to be seen as he thinks the men of the world want to paint him: a weak creature to be used. Someone who needs to bargain and submit to keep his life. It is rather in line with his way of thinking that he would consider himself a whore after Ramsay subjected him to his power and abuse in Dance.

“Only a fool humbles himself when the world is so full of men eager to do that job for him.”

That’s it, that’s the philosophy. Theon has his moments of incredible self-awareness, and this is one, hidden beneath some moral lesson as a pretext.

It shows that:

He has a bleak, but rather realistic view relating to most men in power. They will abuse it. They will humiliate the weakest. They will do so eagerly.

He hasn’t met Ramsay at that point. He may instead be thinking of his brothers, of the lords who humiliated his defeated father, of his own father maybe, or perhaps (in my opinion) Euron.

His arrogance is a deliberate strategy designed to avoid the fate reserved to the most fragile people.

He doesn’t judge the men who abuse their power but doesn’t seem to view them in a positive light. Still, consciously or not, Theon sometimes acts like those men. Since he is mostly deprived of real political or military power, he does it in the context of his sexual relationships (that deserves an analysis, especially regarding how sexuality in his chapters is so often if not always depicted in a negative, degrading manner.). It’s a “eat or be eaten” kind of mentality he is struggling with during his Clash arc.

Fear instructs him to repress the slightest sign of weakness. There cannot be true loyalty, love or desire in such a state. You survive. You are barely living. You just survive.

The rare sincere relationships he forms are short-lived – Patrek Mallister is the son of an enemy family; Robb Stark cannot ever be his equal; his bond with Asha is poisoned by envy and fear, again, of his place being stolen by her.

Theon’s mind favors denial/dissociation and repression as a defense mechanism. It doesn't exactly help him to form sincere relationships with people. It’s a motif throughout his storyline that echoes the stakes relating to Ironborn culture in the story (they must remember their history or they’re condemned to repeat it – that’s the symbolic role of Rodrik the Reader in Asha’s storyline).

Most times, he tends to rewrite reality - consciously or not. Of course, he will be welcomed by Balon Greyjoy! Of course, his traditionalist father will agree to submit to Robb Stark! Of course, he, the hostage, will be given Asha's place that she (of course!) stole from him! Of course, he is destined to be one of those hard men who rule the world, not an eternal victim! Of course, he is not afraid, and even if he is, even brave men feel agonizing fear about other men seeing their weaknesses!

We soon discover how fragile this mechanism really is. The façade cracks more often than Theon would like. There are many instances of this, especially in his conversation with Dagmer ("I know you are no craven" "Does my father?") and Rodrik Cassel ("The noose I wore was not made of hempen rope but it chafed, it chafed me raw"). Worst of all, he allows Reek/Ramsay to amplify his fear. When I write "allow", I do not mean he did it on purpose naturally. But he is the one who freed Reek/Ramsay. He opened the door to a living nightmare. Reek/Ramsay quite literally haunts him in his Clash chapters.

What he cannot rewrite, Theon represses. It does not seem like it at first glance because he is prone to reckless decisions. It can lead one to categorize him as a vain egomaniac, not as a repressed person. His promiscuity doesn’t help, since we are wired to associate repression and modesty.

It is true terror that he is obligated to repress - and it is what comes flowing unbridled as he loses his armor in Dance. This kind of dread is mostly associated with Ramsay (there are so many instances I won't even go into it) and, well, Euron (the slight unease Theon felt about his uncle during ACOK can - and must - certainly be revisited with our current knowledge about him, the fact that in ASOS it is established that Theon revealed awful details about his uncle to Robb, and the now evident parallels between Aeron and Theon).

Fear as a regenerative force

In Dance, the "dread" Theon feels in the crypt of Winterfell is "familiar". And I think you can see it as his fear of being unwanted. Of belonging nowhere.

It makes sense: Theon fears what he truly is. A prisoner, a scared child and a pawn for men to use in their plans. It is the truth he can never escape, no matter how perfectly he plays the Hard Powerful Masculine Man.

Fear pursues him all his life. It is only when he has no fear left to feel (it was all spent in a cell of the Dreadfort; all his fear is caught by Ramsay, who is the embodiment of Theon’s insecurities) that he shows his more empathetic and gentle nature – although he still feels anger, bitterness and the occasional dread, of course.

Still, it is not a bed of roses. Theon is certainly more sincere. He is not putting on a performance for himself. When he lies, he is terribly conscious of it. He doesn’t manage to repress his traumatic memories anymore. It all comes back, flooding. Even such buried memories as the ones related to Euron.

In a way, Winterfell acts in his story as the theatre scene, the place where you can finally be yourself. I wrote a bit about this here. It serves as a catharsis for Theon. In Winterfell, he is able to find pieces of himself. Pieces he had forgotten. He starts to remember the childhood he had buried ("A son of the Islands" / the Euron related reaction in Winds).

Fear had been eating away at him. Fear had been controlling him, at times. Not that he wasn't responsible, but he certainly let himself be overcome by his crippling fear of humiliation (which, sidenote, I don't believe stems only from his status as a hostage but that is another story).

Fear had been breaking him piece by piece since childhood. Just like the rat he eats at the start of Dance - it had been eating him first! He had to defend himself against the threats even if it meant hurting and killing in the process.

It is in Winterfell that he finally confront his fears - that he meets the one essential fear he had been trying to escape: himself.

The lies become a motif, even. “False is all you were.” Theon never lied as a manipulator would, though. Most times, he does not seem to understand the coherence (or lack thereof) of his own actions – which is also a side effect of fear (or to be precise, the fear caused by childhood mistreatment). It causes confusion, alters your awareness and hinders such abilities as analysis and planning.

However flawed Theon was, he was a prince, he was a warrior and a friend, he was handsome, he took care of his clothes and weapons, he saw a comet and decided it shone for him. He wasn’t much of a real, sincere, coherent person, but it was the most functional version of himself he managed to be in his situation.

The man he pretended to be could never have survived the Dreadfort, though. He had to disappear. Was he even real? The façade barely made it through his Prince of Winterfell era. Chances are, had he escaped Ramsay, Theon would still have been forced to confront his true self one way or another.

He is stripped from all his usual defense mechanisms in a horrific torture labyrinth. He becomes the weak thing he always feared he’d be seen as. He cannot hide. He cannot lie. He cannot even smile.

Every single fear he ever had becomes his new reality.

Humiliation: check.

Being controlled and used as a thing: check.

Mockery and disregard: check.

Friendless and abandoned: check.

To escape from fear, he can only repeat the partition he learnt as a child hostage: apply the rules of the people who can cut off your head at any time, and be the well-behaved prisoner so you can rise again later and impress every the ones in power who can share their power with you (a very Ironborn strategy, actually).

Except, there is no escape this time. The flaying knife has cut through the armor Theon had crafted for himself. He has no way out (another motif throughout his storyline). He has no secrets left and no smile to hide behind. He cannot forget his status as Ramsay’s pet by exerting power onto others. He is the very last creature on the food chain this time.

And so, there is nothing to fear anymore.

The Dance chapters are filled with terror and dread, until Theon pieces himself together. Then he regains some composure, purpose and faith, even. He finds his courage within himself, where it always existed, in truth. And, in Jeyne, he finds a motivation. Saving her, a child prisoner, abused and terrorized, he also saves what little of himself he can.

The only time he can truly be brave is when he doesn’t have to fear becoming fully himself at last. Whatever that means, in the end. At the end of fear, something must remain. Something must be rebuilt. Piece by piece.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for having a mental breakdown over my extremely close friend (accidentally) posting (what I thought was) radfem propaganda?

(🧵🎤for finding later)

It’s a very long story and I’m gonna have so many mixed opinions on this, so buckle up broskies.

I(X, minor) had met 👑(F, at least 4 years older than me) 2 months ago after a close friend of her was exposed as a pedophile. Coincidentally, that same pedophile had spread lies about me being a sociopathic asshole a few months ago, so me and 👑 grew extremely close because of both the aforementioned pedo and also because we shared a favorite manga, and we quickly started talking everyday about our favorite characters from the manga.

Due to our close friendship, I educated 👑 about BPD (a disorder I myself have, this is important), genderfluidity, and radical feminism. And apparently, I should’ve educated 👑 a little more about radical feminism.

Also due to our close friendship, 👑 opened up to me about a traumatic experience she had with her stepdad. This triggered me slight flashbacks to an extremely nasty and messy fight I had with an ex last year, but I didn’t want to seem like I was victim blaming, so I kept my mouth shut.

2~ weeks ago, 👑 posted about the “Man or Bear” question, and chose bear. She also brought up the traumatic experience her stepdad inflicted on her in the tags.

(I personally believe the “Man or Bear” question is radfem propaganda because when women choose bear, they always bring up a traumatic experience a man inflicted on them in some way. To me this sounds like they are saying that all men are misogynists that want to see women suffer, which is obviously not the case.)

When I saw the post, I was quite pissed. Eventually, I saw it another time, and I started having a meltdown. I was actually crying, impulsively vagueposting about her and the post, and eventually when I had to go to sleep I angrily messaged 👑 telling her about the mental breakdown accompanied by a middle finger emoji.

When I woke up and checked my notifications, I saw that 👑 had messaged me 4 times saying she’s sorry, that she didn’t mean ill towards men and that she had deleted the post (which she did, but that did barely anything to comfort me). I, still extremely pissed at 👑, told her about how pissed I was, that I trusted her but now I can’t, and that she should fuck off. 👑 replied by asking if there was anything she could do to regain my trust, so I, in the mood to just make it known that I was extremely pissed, told 👑 to go harass a radfem. And she did.

Later that day, me and 👑 had an important conversation about what had happened. I explained to her that I was holding a grudge against her since she told me about her trauma because it reminded me of the fight between me and my ex, and that I thought she was slowly making her trauma her personality. She understood, and she apologized.

Me and 👑 are now in much better terms, but I am extremely scared that I ruined her opinion on me and that she dislikes me now because she’s an extremely close friend of mine and I had opened up to her about everything bad in my life, and I threw it all away because I didn’t want to be reminded over something that happened a year ago.

TLDR; I held a grudge against my therapist friend for opening up to me about her trauma because I got flashbacks to a fight with an ex, then had a meltdown when she posted about the Man or Bear question, and now I don’t know what to do about our friendship.

[ayyy-pee]

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 4 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅

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Pairing: Choso x f! Reader

Summary: Will this pain ever stop?

Chapter Warnings: Angst...again lmfao

WC: 6k

Choso Art By:NC9__

**While not all chapters contain adult content, the themes of this story are targeted towards adults, so minors DNI please.

You have an art project due.

You have an art project due that's worth sixty percent of your grade. 

You have an art project due that's worth sixty perfect of your grade, and you haven't even started it yet.

The canvas you’d set up two hours ago has been sitting in front of you without so much as a line drawn on it. The assignment is to sketch or paint something or someone meaningful from memory. You have many places you could choose from. You could paint your parents. They obviously mean the world to you. You could sketch your hometown, your friends from home or maybe your childhood bedroom.

Then there’s the obvious choice – the beach. The beach where you spent so many of your formative years. The beach where so many amazing memories were made. The beach where you met –

You shake your head wildly, willing yourself not to think about it, about him.

After four long months, many unanswered messages (because you’re blocked) and too many sad tears shed to count, you have now entered into the anger stage of your grief journey (with a sprinkle of the sads!). And honestly? It’s been easier for you that way. It’s been easier to hate him for what he did.

Him – because he doesn’t deserve his name to be uttered by you ever again. Not after the way he treated you. It’s not even the fact that he rejected you, though that sting was something you never want to experience again. But to make the choice to just end over a decade of friendship in the blink of an eye? A decision that wasn’t only his to make. To block you without another word? To just drop you like some stranger on the street after so many years, so many firsts together. To treat you like you never mattered at all…

Yeah, he can go to hell for all you care.

You push your canvas back with more force than necessary. Your artistic mood is ruined anyway, not that you were in one to begin with. It’s good timing, too, because a light knock echoes through your dorm door, and you beckon the visitor in.

“Hey,” Suguru enters, hands full of two six packs of beer. “You coming to Kai’s?”

Right. Tonight, Kaito – who you may or may not have vomited breakfast, lunch and dinner on after drinking too much and having a full on breakdown about him in the hallway in his hallway a week after he broke your heart – has invited you all over for a party!

It wasn’t Kaito’s fault. It was yours, really. You couldn’t look at the guy without being reminded of the conversation that led to your heartbreak.

“You should be with someone like him.” The memory played on loop in your drunken mind, pulled tears and anger from the depths of your soul and forced it all up for everyone to see.

Absolutely humiliating. Yet, despite your unfortunate mishap at the last gathering, Kaito still seemed to be interested in you. It probably helps that he has no idea that you confessed your feelings to your best – former best friend only to have your heart ripped out and fed back to you. You’d like to keep it that way. Some truths really are better left untold.

“I guess I could go,” you mutter to Suguru who has now cracked open a beer and placed it in front of you.

“Cool. Everyone’s already over there if you wanna walk together..” You open your mouth to protest, but Suguru quickly cuts you off. “I don’t mind waiting. It’s dark out anyway.” He flops down onto your bed, careful not to spill his drink. “Don’t feel comfortable with you walking alone.”

You stare at your friend from your spot on the floor. Sometimes - and you know it’s your mind inflicting its own sick torment on itself - Suguru reminds you so much of him in so many ways that it hurts. He’s quiet and caring, sweet and just an overall good person. He protects you in ways that feel so familiar it scares you. While there are no romantic feelings there for Suguru, you’ve found yourself growing even closer to him while navigating your heartbreak because of the familiar comfort he provides.

The warm sting forming along your waterline surprises you. Yes, you’re angry but there are still times when the overwhelming sadness feels just as fresh. You haven’t cried over this in awhile, but the kindness Suguru shows you consistently makes you think of those summers. And those summers make you think of his warmth and kindness that you’ve known all your life. And the memory of his warmth and kindness feels like a jagged blade being shoved slowly into your chest.

“You good?” Suguru’s quiet voice pulls you back to the present. “You look about two seconds from bursting into tears…”

You swipe at your eyes quickly, clearing your throat. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. Just stressed about this damn project. You know how it is.”

Even from across the room, you can see the way Suguru’s eyes narrow just slightly. He’s always been good at picking up on cues, catching people’s lies. But he doesn’t pry further, and you’re grateful when he simply stands and practically floats across the room where he reaches into the box of beers and easily pops the cap off of the bottle before handing it to you.

“Easy fix for all that stress,” he tells you. Your hand wraps around the bottle and you give Suguru a weak smile.

“Kai’s excited to see you, by the way,” Suguru adds, grinning behind his beer when he sees you choke on your first swig. He’s a good friend, but he can be such a dick sometimes! No wonder he and Satoru are so close. They both get off on catching people off guard, watching them squirm.

After nearly passing into the afterlife, you manage to finally catch your breath when Suguru takes pity on you and slaps a large hand against your back. “Is–” you cough harshly. “Is he really?”

“Yup. Dude likes you a lot even after you puked all over his new–”

“STOOOOOPPPPPP!”

“Shirt that he bought exactly for–”

“ENOUGH!!!” You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Hanging out with y–”

“I’m gonna yank your hair!” You slap your hands over your ears.

Suguru’s head falls back with raucous laughter. “As much as I’d love that, save the kinks for Kaito, please.” 

Your face practically ignites with embarrassment. Even joking about becoming intimate with someone after having only been kissed once makes you want to crawl into a hole. You take everything back. You hate Suguru and his teasing. 

Suguru downs the rest of his beer, happily observing your discomfort. “Go change so we can head out.”

You stand, flipping Suguru off before you head into the bathroom to get ready. You’re excited to go. You’re excited to see your friends and have a carefree time. And surprisingly, you’re kind of excited to see Kaito. You hope tonight will get your mind off of everything. You really need to forget all that’s been plaguing you over the last several months.

- - - - - -

When Suguru said Kaito was having a party, you didn’t think he meant an absolute fucking rager. Does no one give a damn that you’re quickly approaching midterms? Not to mention the mid-semester enormous projects your professors have been dumping on everyone! 

No one cares? 

No? 

Just you? 

Okay.

You suppose you could set your worries and stress and lingering thoughts about he who shall not be named aside for one night before it’s back to your regular scheduled programming. Even still, you just can’t wrap your head around how insane this party is. The last time you were at Kaito’s house (that’s putting it lightly – it’s more like a damn castle!), it was just your small study group. And you were very clearly going through something at the time, hence you spewing your guts out shortly after arriving for “casual” drinks and game night.

But tonight is different. There are warm bodies packed into the space, and you wonder if it’s the whole of the university that has been crammed into this place. Music is blaring so loudly you’re sure this party violates almost every noise ordinance there is. And again, no one seems to care. Everyone is pressed up against someone; hips moving scandalously to the beat. Multi colored lights flash across the room in time with the music. It’s more like a club here than a house party. It’s no wonder Suguru made you change out of your sweats and into a practically skintight dress.

If you’re going to enjoy this party, you’re going to need a drink – just one this time! You tell Suguru you’ll catch up with him in a bit, then maneuver your way into the kitchen as quickly as possible. When you’re there, you’re relieved to find that the kitchen is rather empty, just a few stragglers hanging around to grab more beverages. You appreciate the quietness in here, because the short time you were in the main room, the thumping was already giving you a headache.

Your eyes land on the counter where all the mixers and liquor sit. One little tequila and orange juice isn’t going to kill you, or result in you slumped on the couch (again), so you pour your little drink and take a sip. The burn of the alcohol is welcome. It soothes the bit of anxiety beginning to swell in your chest from the idea of having to move through that crowd again to find your friends.

“You look…” A smooth voice comes from behind you, making you jump in surprise. You spin around to find emerald eyes roaming along your form, appreciating the way the fabric of your dress hugs all your curves beautifully. “Wow…”

“Thank you, Kai,” you breathe, hiding shyly behind your red solo cup. “You look good, too.”

Kaito’s pretty grin spreads along his face, the two of you standing to the side of the small group gathered in the kitchen. “Suguru told me you were getting a drink. Had to come find you. How’ve you been?” He questions, reaching past you to grab a bottle of liquor. “Excuse me.” He pours himself a bit of alcohol.

“Not bad, just busy with this art project. I know I haven’t been around much, but I need to get a good grade on this one.”

He nods, eyes boring into yours. “I feel that. That’s why I threw this party.” He waves his hand around the room. “Needed something to get my mind off shit.”

Images of what – no, who – your mind has been stuck on flash through your mind, and you take another swig of your drink to quell the sadness threatening to resurface. “Honestly, I’m glad you did.”

Kaito smiles down at you, and you feel your heart race behind your ribcage. “Me, too. I’m really glad you came.”

You spend a good while speaking with Kaito in the kitchen, completely forgetting about the party outside of this room and your friends in general. It’s surprisingly refreshing. You’re open with Kaito, laughing at his jokes, letting him flatter you with the compliments he can’t seem to help but shower you with.

And you like it.

You like him. 

Kaito makes you feel good. You had no idea how much you needed to feel good until now. And even as Kaito leads you outside to a balcony overlooking a gorgeously lit garden, even as the music pumps so loudly through the closed double doors, it’s nothing compared to the pounding  Kaito causes your heart to do.

Maybe it really is a good thing that you came to this party. And a good thing you only had one drink!

“So…” Kaito sighs, staring out over the pretty shrubs and the enormous fountain that sits in the center of this outdoor garden. “Can’t believe senior year is coming up so quickly.”

“Oh wow, it really is. You’ll be graduating before you know it.”

“Scary times. Not looking forward to finding out what the real world's like.”

You hum in agreement. In another year you'll be in Kaito’s position, wondering what you will be doing for the rest of your life. And Kaito is right. It’s scary to think about. All of this stress from school will build up to something, though you don’t know what that something is yet. You’d love to sit and ponder on what your future holds, because just a few months before, you were fairly certain you knew what and who you wanted. But so much has changed in such a short amount of time. You don’t know what’s next for you. Regardless, you want to be open to change.

“There will be no talking about futures together, making plans, sailing off into the sunset…none of it.”

Yeah, you need to be open to change.

You sigh loudly. “As much as I love letting the existential dread set in, did you bring me out here to talk about school?”

Kaito laughs, running his fingers through his dark hair and you can just barely make out the crimson spreading along his cheeks in this dim lighting. He’s nervous, and you find it adorable. “No. No, of course not. I just…ah, fuck.”

You place a hand on his arm, soothingly patting. “Take your time…”

His eyes narrow playfully as he bites his lip, shaking his head. He leans against the balcony railing, turning to face you. “I really like you…” he admits, then he chuckles. “You know, if that wasn’t obvious.”

“I would have never guessed,” you tease, and Kaito laughs again. “I like you, too, Kai. I know I’ve been kind of…” You try to find the right word for your behavior over the last four months, but all you can come up with is, “a mess. But I do like you.”

Kaito’s face lights up. It’s so cute, the way he looks so excited to hear this. He moves closer to you, taking your hand in his, and you feel your heartbeat pick up speed.

“I’m so glad. I thought there was no way you were interested.”

This makes you burst into a fit of giggles. “How are you the one surprised here? I puked all over you and somehow you still like me.”

Kaito’s teeth sink into his bottom lip again, and he grins. “Would you think I was an absolute freak if I said that somehow made me like you more?”

Your brows knit together in confusion, but you can’t help the goofy smile spreading across your lips.

“I just mean!” Kaito stumbles over his words, trying to correct himself. His fingers card through his hair again, and you make note that this seems to be a nervous habit of his. “Ugh, I mean…most girls have something absolutely humiliating like that happen and–”

“Off to a great start,” you jest, which makes Kaito smile harder.

“You know what I mean. I just didn’t think that you’d still want to be friends after something like that happened. I was kind of worried that you’d be too embarrassed to want to talk to me.”

“I was,” you admit. “But you kept coming around to study group so it made it kind of hard to avoid you.” Your lips quirk into a smirk, letting Kaito know that you’re still teasing him.

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts cutely before he adds, “Would you think I was an absolute freak if I said that somehow makes me like you more?” He winks, and you both fall into a fit of giggles.

You’re not sure when the last time you felt so…free was. The air around Kaito is so refreshing, so light, so nice. You can be yourself with him. You can laugh with him. You can just…be with him.

Kaito’s sudden silence has you peering up at him, only to find his face serious. Somehow, you’re just noticing that he’s much closer. He leans down slowly, and your heart thrums loudly in your ears as your breaths mingle. Kaito has his eyes locked on your mouth, his tongue peeking out to run along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion. 

“I want to kiss you so badly…” He confesses quietly. “So badly.” 

Your cheeks warm at the prospect. You’ve never kissed anyone besides him. And you’re unsure if–

No.

You push the memory away. He wanted you to be happy even if it meant it was with someone else. He removed himself from your life to make sure of that. So now, you will do what was asked of you, and move on.

“Can I…” Kaito’s voice beckons you back to him. “Kiss you?”

“...yes.” You nod, agreeing quickly. The both of you slowly lean closer, Kaito’s hand squeezing yours, until your lips just barely ghost over each other. Kaito’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, then he closes the distance, pressing his mouth gently to yours.

His lips are so soft, so careful as they move against yours. The taste of Kaito’s mouth has you sighing into the kiss, the mixture of mint and whiskey more pleasant than you would have imagined. It’s nice, just like everything about Kaito. 

Your mind is reeling, heart beating wildly in your chest. You’re finally experiencing your first kiss at college! You used to dream of this moment. Giving your first college kiss to someone you really like. And you really like Kaito. This kiss…it’s everything you ever hoped for!

So why does the way Kaito’s lips caress yours feel so wrong? Why does the way his hand gently strokes your cheek feel so off? And the way he sighs your name against your lips? It’s just all so wrong.

You try to fight it, try to resist the way your head floods with images of that hot summer night at the beach all those years ago, of that kiss that seems to have ruined you for all other men. How compared to everything else going on at this moment, it all felt right. There were no awkward feelings, no doubts, no sudden alarms blaring in your head telling you that you should not be kissing this person. And it has your heart dropping.

This isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair that no matter how much you think you’ve moved forward and healed, it only takes one tiny thing to send you right back to square one. It isn’t fair that you’ve been put in this position by no choice of your own in the first place. It isn’t fair that even as this man who so clearly likes you presses his lips to yours, you can only think of being somewhere else with someone who isn’t him.

It isn’t fucking fair.

What’s even worse is that that damn beach seems to haunt you no matter what you do. It’s crazy how you can see the water so clearly in your mind, damn near feel the mist of the ocean spray on your face as Kaito slots his lips against yours. And it seems Kaito feels this mist as well, because he pulls back, brows knit together as his beautiful eyes roam your features.

“Did I do something wrong?” He questions quietly. The confusion seems to be clear as day on your face because Kaito gently swipes at your cheek and it’s then that you feel the wetness on your skin. Tears; big, fat ones at that. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying.

A sob involuntarily rips from your throat and your hands fly to your mouth to cover the sound. But then another follows. And another. And it’s all you can do to just close your eyes and try to will yourself not to break down right here. But when you feel yourself wrapped in an unfamiliar, but soothing embrace, a wave of emotion comes crashing down on you harder than the wave that brought you to him over a decade ago. And it only makes you cry harder. Kaito’s arms squeeze you tightly, his hand rubbing soft circles on your back.

“It’s okay…” he whispers, though you can hardly hear him over your weeping. “Whatever’s going on…it’s gonna be okay.”

The two of you stand like this for a while. Kaito simply holds you until your body stops shaking with each sob. 

“I–” You sniffle loudly, burying your face in Kaito’s chest because once again, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him and now you’re too ashamed to look at him. “I’m so, so sorry, Kai.”

His hands fall on your shoulders, pulling you from his hold and you peer up at him, only to find him gazing softly down at you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kaito is so sweet. Too sweet for you, who is too damaged to be of any good to him.

“I’m going through sort of a break up right now,” you confess. “I care about him very much, but it just didn’t work out. I thought I was ready to move on, to try this, but I don’t think I am.” You feel fresh tears beginning to fall. “I’m sorry. I really do like you, but I’m just not ready for anything new.”

Kaito nods, in understanding, pulling you back into his arms when he sees another tear roll down your cheek. “I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

See? Too sweet for you.

Kaito whispers your name as he releases his hold on you. “Just know that you’re an amazing person. I’d still love to be friends with you, if you’re comfortable with that.” He squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “And whoever broke your heart…they fucked up letting you go.”

His words make you want to cry harder. You wish you could believe that, believe that you were worth fighting for. But you were the one fighting, and right now, you feel like the one who lost.

Still, you manage to mutter a quick “thank you” before you hug Kaito one last time for the night.

- - - - - -

Maybe you’re doomed to never leave Kaito’s house on a good note. Twice you’ve left there in shambles, and you’re not willing to see if the third time’s a charm.

You leave Kaito’s without bothering to find your friends to say goodbye. You don’t want to see them, don’t want to explain the reason why you’re suddenly racing back to your dorm. Don’t want them to know that the moment you get back to your dorm you’ll be falling to pieces. You want to be alone. 

In the safety of your dorm, there’s no one here to tell you it will be alright, no one to soothe your pain or offer you words of encouragement. And you don’t want it. You want to feel these emotions, let them all out as the waves come. You need the space to do so.

You don’t care that you’re standing in your room in the same stupid dress you were wearing when you broke down in front of Kaito after telling him you liked him, after having your first kiss in college with him. You feel ridiculous as is, so what’s one more thing to add to the roster? 

Your eyes spot the stupid blank canvas on your table, still in the same spot you left it when you headed out to the party with Suguru, and your body moves on autopilot. You let your hands do what they know how to do best, dipping your paint brush into whatever color feels right. 

Each stroke of the brush feels like a weight lifted, feels cathartic and the sorrow that drove you to paint in the first place melts into raw anger. The tears fall as an image begins to take shape, furious brushstrokes flying across the canvas.

You don’t know how long you’re sitting there painting, but when you’re no longer able to shed another tear, and your angry sobs finally subside, you set your brush aside and observe the finished product.

It’s the beach - your beach - painted the way you see it now. 

Messy. 

Distorted. 

Tainted with memories that now leave a sick taste in your mouth. 

And it’s beautiful.

You wipe your swollen eyes as you stand and strip off your dress, leaving the fabric in a pile on the floor. You don’t give the painting any more attention, don’t bother looking back, leaving it to dry while you head to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

Come Monday, when you present your project in class, your professor does not hesitate to gift you an A. You listen numbly as she rambles about the raw emotion it evokes. She sings your praises about your growth this semester, and she tells you she hopes to see more of this passion in your future work. 

It’s bittersweet, but you suppose something good had to come from all of this pain. 

Maybe one day, when it’s not such a sore spot, when it doesn’t hurt so fucking much, you’ll thank him for it.

- - - - - -

Your senior year creeps up on you. All of your hard work has finally paid off, and you’ve fortunately been able to take it pretty easy for your last year of college. You even had time to complete an internship with an incredible art gallery and may have a position lined up for after graduation!

You want it so badly, so you’ve been spending more time experimenting with your art. It keeps you busy, which is exactly what you need.

Utahime and Shoko are officially together, not that their relationship was much of a secret to begin with. You love seeing those two together. Especially now that Utahime is no longer struggling with her classes. She can dedicate more time to her music and spend more time with her girlfriend before she leaves for medical school.

They’re sweet with each other, but third wheeling with them sucks. Nothing is fun when you’re stuck watching your friends making out wherever you go. You still love them, but you’ll see them again once they’re out of the honeymoon phase. So maybe you’ll never see them again. Who knows?

Satoru and Suguru…They also became a couple, but that was a toxic situation that lasted about a year before they had a very nasty breakup that ended with Suguru transferring schools. 

Though Satoru does make frequent visits to “see his friends” that just so happen to live in the same city that Suguru moved to. You’re not sure what’s up with your friends and feeling the need to hide their relationships when it’s all so glaringly obvious what they’re up to. But you don’t pry.

And you? You haven’t tried dating anyone since that disastrous night at Kaito’s. You needed time to heal, so you’ve poured all your energy into your artwork. Clearly it’s paid off for you.

Speaking of Kaito, he graduated! He was offered an amazing position with a great company, and actually moved out of the country. You two remain good friends, which is why as you lie in bed scrolling through your Instagram feed, you see the pictures of him and his new girlfriend on your feed. You double tap, liking it. They’re so cute together. And Kaito seems so happy, and you’re happy for him.

Your finger continues to swipe at the screen, scrolling through pictures and videos of your friends. Some of your high school friends have gotten married. Some are pregnant. Others have adopted a new pet. Now that you’ve got time to breathe, it feels like everyone’s life is changing so quickly. 

But still, it’s nice to have time to do absolutely nothing. You spent a good majority of your college career frantically trying to keep your head above water. You’re glad for the downtime.

A notification suddenly pops up on your Instagram. It’s a message request, though you’re not sure from who. 

“You love stallions?” You question aloud. “Who the hell…” You squint, bringing your phone closer to your face to see if the profile picture gives you any clues as to who is randomly sending you a message. But it’s just a pair of…red shoes? You have half a mind to delete the message, because when you try to view the page, it’s private.

But apparently, you’ve really got time on your hands, because curiosity gets the better of you and you open the message.

yuluvstallions: hi Y/N!!! 

yuluvstallions: (i hope this is ur page. I messaged like 4 others) 

yuluvstallions: It’s me! Yuji!! It’s been a REALLY long time! Hope ur doin good! Plz tell ur mom nd dad i said hi! 

yuluvstallions: I miss u SO much so i had 2 try nd find u on here! N e way. Idk if u remember but my bday is comin up in a few weeks! Im gunna be 13! Can u believe it?! IM A TEENAGER!!!

yuluvstallions: i think u might b on spring break during that time, so id really love it if u could come. I’ll send details here

Yuji attaches an image of his party invitation, and you can’t even focus on that because you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The invitation font sits atop the background image, against the sky. It gives all of the location’s details, the time and the date. And at the bottom of this image are the four brothers, standing on the beach with their arms around each other’s shoulders and big grins on their faces.

There’s Yuji, who looks to be almost as tall as you, wears the biggest smile. Then Kechizu, who is still short and stocky, the same way you remember him. Eso, who has a mohawk now? And then, there’s him.

Choso.

You set your phone down. You think you’re going to be sick.

- - - - - -

It’s nearly one in the morning when Choso arrives home. He’s not usually off this late, but he’s been finding it easier to sleep when he comes home absolutely exhausted. Though it doesn’t help much. He’s only been managing to sleep a few hours a night for the last few years, and somehow, by some miracle, he hasn’t keeled over. 

Choso sets his keys down, heading up the stairs, careful to avoid the worn steps that he knows will creak beneath the pressure so as to not wake Yuji. He slips into the bathroom where he strips off his uniform and steps into the shower. The heat of the water melts away the thick scent of dairy and sugar from Choso’s skin and hair, and he finally feels like he can relax.

It’s been a surprisingly busy spring season. He can thank spring break for that. The town has university students coming in and out like a revolving door, and business is booming because of it. He can’t complain. It’s more money, and it keeps his mind off of…things.

Choso finally settles into bed, pulling his blanket up to his chin. He’s exhausted.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like sleep is in his near future because he hears a knock on his door the second he closes his eyes. The door cracks open, a head of pink hair peeking in. His youngest brother slips into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Yuji looks nervous, moving across Choso’s room to sit at his desk. “Hi, big brother,” he beams. “How was work?” And while Choso loves when Choso refers to him as his big brother, he can only assume Yuji wants something.

“What is it?” He asks, voice clearly conveying his exhaustion.

Yuji plays with the hem of his shirt, eyes fixed on the floor. “So…as you know, my birthday bonfire is coming up.”

“Still can’t believe you’re about to be 13,” Choso sighs, shakily. Yuji has grown up so fast and is quickly becoming an incredible young man.

‘Don’t cry. Don’t cry…’

Yuji chuckles nervously. “Yeah…so…It’s a big milestone, right? Like, a big birthday because I’m finally a teenager…”

“Yes…I know…What are you getting at?”

“Would it be okay if I invited…” he trails off, but it's obvious who Yuji’s referring to – you. Of course Yuji wants to see you. He's got the same emotional attachment to you as Choso has to him. He can admit that in the past it made him jealous, how much Yuji loved you. And how much you loved Yuji. But right now, the idea of Yuji extending an invitation to you after not seeing you for almost half a decade, after the way things were left off between you…it sets his nerves on fire.

He has no idea what you're up to these days. It takes a hell of a lot of restraint each time the temptation crosses his mind, but he doesn't check your social media. And if his brothers have any contact with you, they don't provide him any insight into your life either. Though Choso thinks that's more in protest of how things went down between you two, not to protect his feelings. They always did love you more. 

But would Choso be able to handle seeing you after the way he treated you all these years later? The idea of seeing you standing in front of him makes him feel sick. And the idea of seeing you standing in front of him with…Kaito, or whoever you may be dating now makes him want to vomit. He knows he told you to move on, find someone who could be better for him than he could ever be, but he doesn’t want that flaunted in his face either.

Ugh, this is just all fucked up.

Choso’s aware of how selfish it would be for him to say no to Yuji because of his own feelings. Because he’s scared to face the consequences of his actions. He caused this rift between you two. He burned the bridge. Not you. Not Yuji. Choso did that. Maybe you’ll show up. He’s sure Yuji and his other brothers would love to see you. Worst case and most likely scenario, you hate Choso and won’t come at all. 

That idea hurts just as much. 

But Choso can’t use what he did as a reason to tell Yuji no.

“Sure,” Choso finally grunts. “Invite her, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Yuji grins, wide and goofy. He stands, clapping his hands together as he makes his way out the door before calling back, “Good! Because I already invited her and she said she’s comingggg!” He sings from the hall.

“YUJI, SHUT UP!” Choso hears Eso’s muffled yell from his room, followed by Yuji’s loud laughter.

Choso groans, staring up at the ceiling as his mind races. If he thought he was getting any sleep tonight, he was sorely mistaken. How could he sleep now? Knowing that in a few short weeks, he’ll be seeing you for the first time in years. Potentially speaking to you for the first time since he hung up in your face and blocked any form of communication with you. The conversation haunts him to this day, like some strange form of punishment. It’s why he works so much, why he sleeps so little. At least when he’s awake, he can keep his thoughts at bay.

Exhaustion snatches Choso, his body finally giving in so he can sleep. He’s sure he’ll wake up tomorrow feeling as though he never relaxed for a moment. That’s how it always is. Because while he can keep himself busy enough to not think of you for a second while he’s awake, it’s when he closes his eyes that his mind torments him with nothing but images of you.

This time, his dreams are pleasant. This time, he sees you and him together. You and him, on the beach where it all began.

[achilleslyre]

i feel that so many people seem to take the basis of naruto and sasukes characterization and switch them…. i see too many people infer naruto is made of happiness and love while sasuke of hate and anger but i have always seen naruto as a character that is full of hatred and anger and he has to let go of that with the love of others. sasuke as a character is so full of love yet he has to follow that through with grief and anger and learn to bear others hatred.

naruto never really had the heaviness of love in his heart until he went through the process of controlling kuramas chakra and had to confront the hatred inside him. frankly it says it blatantly that he had always held hatred in his heart for the situation he was forced into and the way the village treated him because of it, until he was able to accept and move past that hatred and have love for kurama and his dad and the people of his village. so i genuinely don’t understand where this notion that naruto is just pure sunshine and happiness came from. sasukes whole story starts out with wanting revenge on his brother because he loves his family and his clan so much. it’s a constant clear notion that he hurts so bad from his brother’s betrayal because he loved his brother, and that his rage against konoha is because he loved his clan that konoha sanctioned a genocide of. it’s constantly stated that the uchiha hold intense love in their hearts.

it’s sasukes connection with the people around him that formed his love where it’s the lack of that connection that formed narutos hate…. the way they expressed their emotions is very different because they’re both in insanely different scenarios no matter how much they understand the others pain. narutos hatred makes him want to finally receive the love that the village never gave him, but sasukes love makes him want the village to experience the pain that they inflicted upon him and his clan… maybe sasuke expresses his love more negatively and maybe naruto expresses his hate more positively, but that doesn’t change the fact that sasukes actions came from a place of love and narutos actions came from hate. they just needed each other to balance the other out….