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hcdragonwrites · 9 months

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Tangled Love

(A @semisolidmind Drabble)

Ok! I ran this by Semi before I posted just because I know absolutely nothing about LMK (except the animation can be so pretty!) just so I could get their characters down. I hope you all like it !

She just wanted to escape- both from this place and from her own mind tonight.

The ghosts of memories were walking and she had no distractions to chase them away.

Peaches walked the cool cavern halls of Water- Curtain Cave, her feet echoing in the depths. The sandals she wore and the ornamental clothing she had been thrown into made her scalp prickle and her skin itch. It was too much- but the attendants wouldn’t hear a thing about it.

She had to look the part of Queen.

Peaches, in the absence of the Lord of the mountain and his right hand and sword, was the remaining voice of authority.

To a point.

Finishing with courtly duties and listening in on behalf of her husbands wasn't a huge chore. The two of them rarely left at the same time however. If one was called away the other would remain. Or Peaches herself would be brought along.

This time however she hadn’t been.

It was the first time in ten years.

She had just this night- just this moment of reprieve and she would make the most of it. Or so she thought. Instead, she was fighting something that reared its head and struck her nerves like a asp.

However she wasn’t alone quite yet. As she rounded the corner and came to golden lacquered doors of her bedchamber - their bedchamber- she paused.

“Will that be all my queen?” One of the attending retinue of her guard asked. It was a guard her husbands insisted upon whenever both were away from home- a set of seven of the most battle scarred simians Peaches had ever seen.

They were tasked and sworn with following her everywhere - to the dining hall, to the throne room. If she wished to go and sit among the apple trees and listen to the wind play over the mountain grasses her guard would double in size. Peaches tried to not cause the denizens of Flower fruit mountain any more problems or stressors by going outside when both the King and his Brother in arms were away on a war path.

Her husbands.

It’s what they titled themselves now, after a decade of the terrible start they had on their relationship with her. When she had met the two, they had been just tiny monkeys. A sly looking ginger and gold monkey who had loved to cling to her arms and a dark black furred monkey that brought her fruits and almonds from the wild.

My sweet boys.

They had been her monkeys back then- the little prankster angels she had thought were just simple beasts, trying to survive out in the world.

She had been wrong.

The decision to upend her life, she guessed, had been floated around for months between the two disguised demons as they ate her fruit and enjoyed her touches. It was a mutual one that both had decided was the best option for her.

She took a steadying breath, coming back to the present. Peaches wanted a chance to be alone. Something so rare she craved it like a man in a desert craved water.

“Yes, general. I think I’ll retire early for the day.” She smiled at the monkey who dipped his body into a bow. The gleam of his armor set the flickers of a memory brewing. Fire in the trees, the smell of iron on the wind and a figure among the debris. She shook her head to dislodge it. The rest of them weren’t awful to her. Her husbands weren’t awful to her. They had just ….

Taken away her decisions.

“Very well Queen.” Peaches flinched, unable to quite stomach the title and what that truly meant. If I am queen then why am I without choices? “If you need us call us.”

She turned the handle in the door and slipped in side with as much grace as she could muster.

Peaches closed the ornamental doors to the bedroom, resting her head against the door. Steady. Deep breaths. In through her nose out through her mouth.

The illusion of a paradise that Wukong had built and Macaque helped facilitate always lost its color and believability when they were away. They couldn’t feed her the sugared lies and candied perceptions to tamp back the memories of that night.

It had been just another night on the small farm - a June night of heat and singing cicadas- of windows wide open and Peaches trying to escape that heat. There wasn’t much she could do to escape it. The moisture clung to her and made her bedding stick and clog her nose. So on these nights she stayed up, usually with a candle or the moon to illuminate her night, and read.

The knock on the door was not something typical.

The memory was rising and she couldn’t hold it back. I have to ride it out. Survive it.

Like she had survived that night. Getting visitors in the dead of the night had been unconventional- and she remembered the feeling of being perturbed. Don’t answer it, she told the memory. But this was the past and ghosts of the past didn’t change their course.

She had closed her book, had stepped down the hall to the door and had opened it.

I should have called through- told him to stay away! I should have never left my bed or my book.

It was a drunk man. A fellow farm hand called in for one of the families to help bring in a harvest that had proved too bountiful for the immediate family to handle. Peaches could see the man before her eyes, smell the reek of him.

A drunk.

“Well ain’t it the village spinster! Whaaa da pretty thing you are!” He was a cloud of bitter rice wine, of too much sake on his breath. The intensity of it had a physical effect on her memory and in the present, Peaches wrinkled her nose.

“You should go home Sir.” She had told him- tried to close the door.

His foot moved faster and his hands had caught the door.

A wild set of emotions swept through her. She had to sit her body down, thankful she had been able to get away from the other monkeys before the memory seized her like a vice. They would have been in a panic over her and she couldn’t let their little hearts worry so. There was nothing they could do to stop the remembering.

It was his fault this all happened. It was His. He didn’t have to be drunk and show up at my home- he didn’t have to shove his way into my house and try and grab me.

But he was just a single man. Did his actions warrant the destruction that happened next ?

“Get out!” Her memory self cried. The wooden table she danced behind as the drunk stumbled and moved towards her, was her only shield.

“The Boys Said you prefer the company of wild animals …” his speech was hard to hear. The wine had made him bold, stupid, and aroused it seemed. “I thought I would give you mtaste of what a real man was, since the villagers are al’ ‘fraid of your Witchery with monkeys.”

She had run- she had thrown her things at him. It was probably the commotion of her breaking a pitcher over his head that had alerted her monkeys. The loud clatter of the pottery across the floor had sounded so sharp and final. It had only made the man more determined.

The drunk when he did get his hands on her was furious. He swung a fist and sent stars into her eyes. Peaches had clung like a wildcat to her conscious, kicking out with legs and swinging with fists. Her nose was full of the sour smell of him- had felt his hands and fought them. A kick to his groin had sent him wheezing. Another fist to her head had Peaches crying. She had stared that drunk in his mean little eyes as he whispered the terrible things he wanted to do to her.

She had been staring in those eyes when he died.

He never got to touch more than her arms that night.

Peaches heard something step through the door that had been left open to the night. She had heard the creak of her house as something walked within it. And the sound of something- like a water skin being popped and a splash of warm liquid against her belly had shocked her.

The Drunks eyes went wide with confusion, rolling horselike in his head. His bruising grip on her wrist had let go. In the present, She rubbed those wrists, the phantom pains hard.

“..mah… belly.” The drunk had mumbled then belched a bucket of blood onto the floor. Peaches could see something protruding from his middle- something long and thin like a stick. Or a staff.

Clawed hands pulled the head back and twisted with a fury. The sound of bones breaking was loud, as if a fire was consuming dry wood. The drunk crumbled in those hands like a puppet cut free of its strings.

A new stranger stood in her home, his frame large and broad and most assuredly not human. He tossed the body like someone would toss a rag across the floor. The glowing eyes in the sudden dark were all she could see. Her mind, even in its heightened adrenaline drenched state, recognized the face pattern, saw a familiarity in the fur. There was, in fact, still a little flower tucked against this demonic creatures ear. The same flower she had interwoven in her forest friend's fur that afternoon.

“Your… your my…”

Nerves and the come down from the adrenaline high we’re making speech hard. The monkey demon before her, who’s eyes seemed to spit fire, softened. Just a bit.

“You are my Peaches.” Wukong said, touching her hair, her face, her hands. Taking stock. Then he had taken those limp hands and threaded them through his fur, trying to get them to grip. It would help his own rage and calm her fear. It was thick in the air, ruining the natural sweet smell she had. That and the slab of flesh on the floors own fetid death scent.

Wukong was not the best at this - this comfort thing. But he would rise to the occasion. He would try for her.

Fury and rage made his tail lash and the fur along his neck to stand on end.

At first she had just been a simple human that would leave little offerings to him and his brother in arms. An oddity here in the shadow of his mountain. Most humans around here feared the monkeys and kept away from all of them, having a legend that if one was harmed a great calamity would befall them.

Wukong didn’t mind being that calamity. These were his people, his subjects. So hearing the chatter from some of his kind that a women had begun to leave out gifts had of course spiked the Kings curiosity. The humans beneath Flower Fruit Mountain were his lesser subjects. So he had come down from the mountain, disguising himself as a smaller and more approachable sized monkey, to see the fuss his subjects had started gossiping about at groomings. Only to see his brother, Macaque, already being petted and tended and kissed on each of his six ears.

Of course first impressions had been terrible and Wukong, used to getting the first pick of everything, had come screeching into the clearing and demanding his own pets. It had set off a very small and very mock little battle between the two brothers in arms. One that had Peaches separating them and scolding them as she patched up the little scratches they had taken from eachother. They could have each resisted her pull but both decided that play acting a fight, even if it had started as a bit of one, was the best way to get attention divided between the both of them.

Wukong hadn’t expected to become infatuated. Her name didn’t matter to him- he had rebranded her almost the instant she came to him and offered a smile and held out a handful of sugar and dates. Peaches. After the Kings own favorite fruit, the sweetest thing the mountain produced.

His Peaches.

Of course also Macaques. He shared everything with his brother, the dark furred and six eared demon who had faced battles and won wars besides Wukong. While Wukong had been more leery, Peaches won him over faster than Flower Wine loosened his rigid posture. They had both fallen for this mortal women. And, in the traditional way she belonged to them. She just didn’t know it yet. They had touched and groomed and cuddled and tangled limbs and tails. They were practically married without the marriage bit.

Wukong rubbed small circles into Peaches back, trying to keep himself from bearing his teeth in rage.

I should have taken her home the moment she kissed me.

They had been kisses of the kind one gives to a friend or pet. It had left the warlord craving more burning with more.

Of wanting to feel her give him more than just a chaste kiss on the side of his face.

She wouldn’t have been hurt if he had just taken her home.

Wukong and Macaque had taken to one or both spending the night in Peaches trees, to keep an eye on her. Wukongs obsession had grown into a fascination and warm buttery love. A love that was becoming a wild inferno as he fought to stay still and not leap upon the corpse he had made and turn it into nothing but bits of flesh and gore the crows could carry away.

His Peaches fingers finally grasped his fur and shook. It brought Wukong back from his montage of rage to the present. If only Mac was here — but he wasn’t. He was back at home on Flower Fruit mountain , giving his brother the night to enjoy and keep lookout at Peaches den.

“That’s my girl.” The demon tried to soothe. He really wished he could set Peaches down and finish off what he had started. This place had been bad. This village terrible. He hated every thing and one here that had dared to let a drunken fool up to his Peaches doorstep and allowed this to happen. In reality Wukong was mad it had been Mac’s own sense of importance on taking it slow and letting a little thing like a life outside of Flower Fruit Mountain stop him from from revealing who he was and taking her home.

I am done trying to woo her over slowly. They could have lost her this night if Wukong hadn’t been in earshot, hadn’t heard the crash of something breaking. His clawed hands wrapped around her back and beneath her legs. Before he could realize it, Wukong had her up and in his arms, already stepping on and across the corpse and out into the June air. Mine.

“Let’s get you home, lovely.” Wukongs voice was thick with emotion. Relief to finally, finally, finally have an excuse to take his wife home, to see her sleep in a real bed and eat real food made his heart swell. No more pretending. No more longing. It was happening now. Simmering beneath that emotion was the sweet bubble, the red misting rage, of violence. Once he got her home, got her safe, got her tangled within some of his and Macaques blankets to where the sour smell of fear would be lost within the scent of them- he could come back. He would come back.

He would destroy the village for being the obstacle it was in his conquest for this mortal girls heart. It was in itself, a relief to know he was justified in its destruction.

Look what this place did to bruise my sweet fruit.

Peaches was shaking. Clinging to him. I would have her cling to me always. He pressed his nose into her neck, breathing in as he walked off. She smelled so good. He rubbed his face to hers, affectionately smothering her fear scent. Wukong felt a smile curl his face. Finally. We can go home and put the charade to bed. Finally you are mine.

Peaches' memory of that night was mostly of clinging to Wukong as they flew through the air, of his voice a rumble of soft words and comforts. He was holding her close, pressing her in. Smothering her in a sense. But she needed it. She clung to it in a way to stop herself from being sick from fright. It was strange but familiar to hold this fur, to cling. Then she briefly remembered another voice, another set of hands. When she looked up and saw that her sweet dark monkey was also here, had also been a demon in disguise, something broke in her. Maybe hysteria. Maybe disbelief. Or maybe she knew, somewhere in her mind, that no matter what she said now wouldn’t save the people- the innocents- in her village.

Peaches had been transferred into the dark arms and THATS where she finally began to cry. The shock was fading and leaving behind ragged holes of emotion.

“Safe, you're safe now.” She was reassured. Hands had lifted her chin, her sweet little monkey- now a demonic one- was gently beginning to sponge away the blood from the cuts on her face. Her cheek swelled, her eye with it.

“Please don’t kill them.” She begged. “He already took care of the one who hurt me don’t kill my village.”

“Hush love…”

“Please!”

Silence. Something cold pressed to her face- a bit of snow from far up the mountain wrapped in cloth. Macaques ears twitched like flower petals in the night air.

“It’s already done. The village is already gone.”

The memory rode itself out in the present and faded slowly.

Guilt washed over her and she cried all for a new reason. She had been the catalyst for Sun Wukongs fury. She had been the decider to his want of destruction. Peaches may not have killed them, may have had a decade to realize that what had happened wasn’t her fault, but Wukong had done it in her name. He had erased that village and all its people like a cartographer reshapes a map. To all the rest of the world, their had never been a village in the shadow of Flower fruit mountain. Not a foundation, not a brick, not even a spare hair, was left of humanity there. Instead it had been cleared as if a fire had swept through. Peaches had seen it on one occasion when Wukong had been persuaded to show her. She had needed closure. Needed the peace.

Once she had healed she had been told her village was gone. She had been given a sweet lie- that Wukong had gone back and the villagers related to the drunk had been ransacking her house to see where she kept the money or any spare wine.

When Wukong had shown up demanding they answer to the crime committed in her home, they had attacked. Wukong had enacted a king's justice as was his right. He had told the remaining villagers to leave- to never set foot upon his domain again for the lawlessness that had been enacted upon their neighbor.

It had taken two years for her to be able to relax whenever he came in smelling of fire and iron. It had taken a few years more for her to remember what Macaque had said when he had pressed snow to her face.

They were the same little monkeys they had been before. But now they had less innocence when they pressed into her face for kisses, when they asked to tangle and cuddle limbs. They insisted she stay in the bedchamber and not move to her own separate room.

It had taken getting used to movement beside her as a hand tugged her hair, or a tale twined her waist. Or a leg curled with hers or hands holding her face. Sometimes in the dark Mac would press his head to her back, using her as a pillow. Wukong would yank her in when he thought her too sleepy to remember and whisper all the things he loved about her.

It would have been sweet. It was touching in a way. If not for the way they revealed themselves. If not for that memory and what she knew now had come after.

It had not taken too long after that for her to start realizing that, though Wukong had saved her, neither of them had any regret of what happened. Neither of them was going to let her go.

When she asked about it or started talking of missing her home- the simple living, the ability to really on herself and choose for herself- Wukong would laugh and launch into one of his tales. He would brush her hair with his claws, run his face against hers and try and deflect her attention to new things.

Macaque, if Wukong was absent, would let her talk. Usually it happened when he asked her to brush his fur or he in turn asked to brush her hair. Peaches thought, just a bit, that the reason Mac was better at listening was for all the ears he had. Each time however, when she got to the part about how this had been her fault, he would stop mid way through a braid or pin and pull her in. Macaque would kiss the tears from her eyes, would press himself close to her chest.

“It was Never your fault Peaches.”

“I remember. I remember he went back- you said he—“

“Hush love you’ll grow hysterical. What Wukong did was justified- he defended you.”

“He killed.”

“I have killed.” He kissed her temple, gentle in his reprimands. He wouldn’t try and brush her words beneath a rug like Wukong. Instead he gave her a smile as wide as the crescent moon. “Let’s finish your hair and get you dressed. We can go see the baby’s, I know how you love the baby’s.” Baby monkeys were her weakness. They had been what led to her loving Mac before she had known he was a demonic warlord.

Peaches rubbed at her eyes and stood, the sorrow in her heart heavy still but the tears at least had stopped. Now she was just tired. Tired and cold and wanting to escape the feeling of it all. So she shed her courtly attire. All the clips and jewels and baubles and bits felt heavy. She placed them within the box at her armoire, then loosened her hair from its bindings. Jade pins, pearl necklaces, golden bracelets with bells of silver (Wukong loved this the best of all) all glimmered back in the firelight.

A pretty price.

She snapped the box closed.

On nights like this, she wanted to wear nothing but her smock, her simple clothing, and bury herself as far as she could go into the bed she shared with her husbands.

It was more of a pit set into the ground, circular in nature. Silken pillows, red sheets and a hoard of anything plush and furred had been thrown into the pit. It was also a snug place to bury herself within and one of the few things she didn’t feel resentment too right away. When the outside felt too bright and she couldn’t go about the mountain to her usual quiet places, she would retire here. To burrow, to bury, to hide.

Peach fell back into the pit of blankets and pillows and pulled herself beneath a fur of some striped monster Macaque had skinned and gifted to her. Tonight the bitter truth was hard to swallow and did circles in her head.

You did this. You caused this. You killed them. This is your fault.

She closed her eyes and hoped … hoped for what might be the worst thing yet. Her husband's return.

A time later she stirred. Something was in her room- was walking to the bed. Peaches felt a flutter of fear before hands reached into her hiding place and simply slid her out.

“Hello darling.” The silken voice belonged to none other than Macaque. His clawed hands entwined around her waist, his teeth nipping at her ear. “You are up late.”

“Does that mean it will be a late morning?” Wukongs voice came from the other side of the room. Peaches could see the ginger monkey removing armor from his shoulders and stretching. As the darker brother kept making a snack of her shoulder, Peaches noticed that the shine of Wukongs paldrom was dimmed. Something black coated the golden imprint of sunbursts across its armored surface. “I love late mornings! Means more time together.”

Blood?

“Peaches?” She turned her head, trying to see Mac. He had left off nipping her skin. A hand came away from her wrist and tipped her chin, forcing her to stare directly into his violet eyes. “What has upset you?”

Everything. Myself. Wukong. You. It was that simple question that set her sorrow to flowing again. She was confused, upset, and she wanted comfort. The only ones who could give her comfort were the very ones who caused her distress.

A vicious cycle.

The pillows behind her sagged. Wukongs hands were more aggressive in their touches, turning her about to stare into her face. He noted the tears, the bruising beneath her eyes. His lip curled in anger.

“Has someone upset you?” Wukong asked. He seemed ready to stand again, to grab his armor and step out into the night. “I will drag them here to give an apology. You name them and I will fetch them.”

Peaches shook her head.

“Just ….” You killing the villagers, Macaque telling me plainly that it was for the best, and my own head making me relive that night of events. Over and over and over.

“…. Myself.”

His face softened as he chirped a reassurance, pressing his nose to hers. Macaque peppered her in gentle and butterfly soft kisses to the back of her neck. The three fell back into the nest, limbs entwined and hands holding. Macaque had Peaches face buried in his chest as she sobbed silently. He cooed. He whispered how everything would be right as rain in the morning. His hands ran through her hair and messaged her scalp. Wukong held his Peaches, pressing her back to his chest in a solid wall against the world outside. He lavished her in praises and compliments, sometimes getting carried away and talking about himself until his brother would remind him with a flick to his forehead that it was their Peaches he should be reassuring.

And through it all, through this twisted and tangled weave of limbs and fur and warmth and sorrow, Peaches felt love. It grew in this dark place still, wanting to thrive. But how could it?

Still she fell asleep, lashes sparkled with tears and her heart lighter. One could only be sad so long in the wake of such waves of attention. Wukongs and Macaques love was the only solution to this ailment they had inflicted upon her, and she, the addict, swallowing the medicine that would give her release.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #twice as bad AU #semisolid #bad end wukong #ALRIGHT I DID IT.#yes I wrote this in a dayish between work and my other writing #I haven’t done this much work in a long time and I was so nervous I would get this pairing wrong #bad monkey boys #they made a whole tangled mess of this situation.#they sweet but stinky #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #six eared macaque #I based this off a idea and answer Semi gave in one of their blog posts #was I lurking? yes. Because there stuff also has a vice grip on my mind #I Dont know much about LMK so getting this Macaque down right took a bit of work so I didn’t mess up the vibe.#i am so jelly of the nest pit pls I would dive into that like a child into a ball pit #jttw tag #lmk #it think I’m tagging that right ?#I have a weakness for big possessive grumps loving their sunshine wives #six eared macaque x reader #hcfanfics

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babacontainsmultitudes · 7 months

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Let's Talk About Lincoln And His Dads, Okay?

I think people claiming that Lincoln and Grant "aren't so different after all" because, like everyone else in the show, they both have blood on their hands, have mostly missed the mark on where the core of Lincoln's issues with his dad(s) lie in the first place.

Moreover, I'm tired of people insinuating that Lincoln's troubles pale in comparison to Normal's or Scary's or Hermie's, and I'm tired of people saying that Lincoln is overreacting, or that Lincoln is a hypocrite for calling out his dad's behavior, or that he is in the wrong for setting boundaries, or that he's ungrateful, or that he's responsible for ensuring his dad's emotional wellbeing and not the other way around!

*breathes* So let's. Let's finally talk about Lincoln and Grant (and Marco also him).

[WOAH THERE! Hey you, yeah you, this is a long-ass post, mhm, it's one of those, so please keep that in mind before venturing below the cut. Maybe grab yourself a drink or a bite to eat first, yeah? Additionally, sorry the transcript stuff is a bit messy in this one, tumblr has a 30 image limit and well, I had to find workarounds. Also, I haven't yet added alt text for the transcript screenshots- I plan to when I have a bit more energy for it, but I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause in the meantime!]

Part 1/4: "Honesty is hardly ever heard, and mostly what I need from you"

Lincoln is certainly a pacifist at heart (in more recent times important examples of this include Lincoln's refusal to harm Scary in the Swallows household, as well as Lincoln being the only one of the teens to successfully avoid using violence in front of d00d during their most recent standoff with Willy), and in good paladin fashion functions as the group's moral compass the majority of the time.

Despite this, Lincoln's morals are not so simplistic and idealistic as to not differentiate between different motives for violence, nor does he view acts of violence in and of themselves as signs that a person is "evil" or "irredeemable". He can for example, see the difference between the acts of Willy and those of the kiddads, as he tries to explain when confronted by the other teens on the matter:

In fact, even after Grant tells Linc all of this during the incursion:

Lincoln's primary goal is still to save his dad first and foremost, then offer him the room to explain himself, without immediately chalking him up as a bad person because of what he has done.

Lincoln certainly doesn't approve of Grant and his violence, though he can understand that things are seldom black and white. But the killing is far from the only issue here. In fact, it's not even the main issue.

Grant creates a foundation based on trust and accountability whose importance in the Li-Wilson household is hammered in from the very first episode.

And we see throughout the early episodes of the season just how strongly Lincoln believes that Grant would never lie to him.

Then of course the incursion point encounter happens. There are several elements of this encounter that we will gloss over for now and go back to later, but of immediate importance is the fact that this interaction serves as direct confirmation for Lincoln that his dad has in fact been lying to him his entire life.

Additionally, he learns that Grant possesses a deep hatred of himself, wants to die, perceives himself as "broken beyond repair", and fears that Lincoln will somehow wind up just like him. That's a lot for one kid to have dropped on them, let alone all at once and without warning!

So- Lincoln wants to confront his dad after this both because he wants his dad to explain himself and take accountability for his dishonesty and for his actions more generally, and because he is concerned for his dad's wellbeing.

Now let's look at how Grant has, over the course of the season, responded to Lincoln's attempts to get him to take responsibility for his actions, and talk about his mental health:

The first thing Grant does is pull a classic Wilson "we'll talk about it later". Then the very next thing he does is lie to Lincoln again, now pretending that his plan is to fix things with Erin by offering her a gift (when of course he's actually set out to steal the sun)

Then as a deflection when Lincoln further tries to confront him about the lying, he indirectly equates everything he has kept secret from Lincoln (see the incursion point stuff) to "little white lies" and, contrary to the philosophy he so heavily instilled in Lincoln, argues that sometimes lying can protect the people one cares about:

Which as a point of interest I would like to compare and contrast to something Lincoln says in an earlier episode:

"lies can protect" vs "protecting is also trusting"- anyways moving on,

From there Grant's plan to steal the sun eventually comes to light (heh) and gets foiled, forcing the teens to be the mature ones in the situation and try to negotiate something with Erin. While he is certainly disappointed by everything going on, however, Lincoln's priorities vis-à-vis Grant are still, first and foremost, to ensure that he is safe, and when time allows for it get an apology from him and get him to talk openly about everything he has withheld. At this point in time Lincoln, while obviously angry at his dad, still very clearly cares about his dad and just wants to be able to talk with him without all the lies or deflection or excuses.

Then the teens are backed into a corner when their attempts at negotiation go sour, and ultimately wind up helping Grant steal the sun. Once that is over, Lincoln tries to confront his dad again, now with regards to some of the things he said about himself:

(Do note that last bit especially as it will be of relevance in the next section)

Then after Grant ignores the other teens when they try to talk to him, Lincoln calls him out and once again asks him to apologize, in part for having told Lincoln previously that they were dangerous and that he was not to hang out with them:

(as you might have guessed, Grant does not apologize).

Then it is established that the "zone of truth" in the Li-Wilson household isn't actually a spell but an agreed upon promise between Marco, Grant, and Lincoln to tell only the truth when someone calls upon the zone of truth, further cementing the degree to which honesty is an important Li-Wilson family value. Whilst in the zone of truth, however, Grant beats around the bush with regards to his intentions, and the teens ultimately decide that they do not want him to come along with them to the church of the doodler, as he is untrustworthy, in addition to Lincoln saying that he needs some space for his own sake. Grant then pretends to respect this decision, though he is in fact once again lying through his teeth, and sneaks back on later.

Before exiting the bus for the first time, however, Lincoln tries to get his dad to open up a bit about his feelings. Grant's response?

Time after time after time, Grant refuses to confront himself and address anything from what occurred at the incursion, and in fact adds on to everything with a whole new slew of lies, and with each failed attempt at connection the rift between Lincoln and Grant increases. And Lincoln, true to his values and how he was raised, is not a hypocrite in wanting openness and accountability from his dad. Lincoln is not and has never acted like he is perfect and beyond making mistakes, but Lincoln takes responsibility for his actions, even when the degree to which he is actually complicit in the crime at hand is questionable. He writes a letter to the families of the firemen because he feels responsible for their deaths. He apologizes to Taylor for lying to him about the bracelets and helps not only Taylor but also Nicky escape the clutches of the FBI, even though the consequence of doing so could easily have been his own death. When he thinks he may have inadvertently lead Hero on, his immediate decision is to take accountability for it and clear things up. All of this in addition to consistently apologizing to his friends when he thinks he may have hurt them for one reason or another.

This is also an important thing to consider when we talk about the place of violence in the show. Yes all the characters, including Lincoln himself, have had to kill at some point or another for the sake of survival and protecting the ones they love. But Lincoln does not use the blood on his hands to justify violence in future decisions. Despite the fact that he has had to kill before, Lincoln, as mentioned in the beginning of this essay, continues to try incredibly hard to act as pacifist whenever he can, choosing to protect those around him with as little collateral damage as possible. Does he have a perfect track record? No! Does he still try his damned hardest to choose kindness and mercy? Absolutely! And this is an important distinction especially between Lincoln and Grant.

And then Grant kills Terry. Now Lincoln must shift his priorities towards protecting his friends from his dad, but in running after Scary still finds himself forced to confront him. So what does Grant have to say regarding his actions?

Both Lincoln and Scary are right to be furious with this response, Terry Jr. is dead and all Grant can offer in response is what is essentially another excuse. Grant's mental state does not absolve him of responsibility or accountability for his actions, which as Lincoln points out (and repeats later) consist not only of the singular choice of shooting Terry, but of every choice he has made before and after that. "I'm sorry your dad is broken" obviously doesn't bring Terry Jr. back, but perhaps more importantly demonstrates that Grant is still not willing to reflect on his actions any further than that and work on himself moving forward.

So Lincoln does what is perhaps the most difficult thing he has done in his life, and disowns his father. This is not a rash, impulsive decision. As established, Lincoln has given Grant many chances throughout the season to address his behavior and at least fucking *talk* with Lincoln about his mental state, but he refused. He refused, not because he means harm, but because Grant truly believes himself to be fundamentally broken and irreparable, and doesn’t see the effect that his own suffering is having on his son. This, in addition to continuously failing to take Lincoln seriously and treat him as more than a little kid, both in failing to listen to Lincoln's voices of concern as well as in disregarding any of his proposals to go about things differently (whether that means avoiding violence, trusting rather than lying, or both).

So when Lincoln says:

"It's not about what you just did now, Dad. It's all your choices. You chose me. There wasn't some passion, or, or just a kid. You chose me as your kid, knowing you were broken. You can't take that back. And… I love you, and I hate that you made me love you, when… you are who you are and you knew it."

This isn't Lincoln saying that Grant should not have had a kid because he is mentally unwell or has trauma, it is Lincoln saying that Grant continues to make choices without acknowledging his agency in those choices and the effect they have on those around him, instead choosing to pin his mistakes on his perceived brokenness without any resolution to do something about that.

And before you say, "but Grant didn't have a choice in becoming Lincoln's parent since he saved him from the Titanic":

This simply isn't true, as strictly speaking there was nothing stopping Grant and Marco from putting Lincoln up for adoption if one or both of them did not feel themselves to be ready or capable of taking care of a child and

Ignoring Lincoln's exact phrasing, "choosing to be a parent" is not just about the literal choice to have a child, it's about every choice you make before and after that. It's choosing not to express your concerns over parenthood with your spouse, which based on Grant's track record:

-Is definitely in-character for him. Conversely, in Marco's case, it may be choosing not to ask your partner about their feelings on the matter (because, really, asking Grant on the spot while literally on a sinking ship if he's okay with adopting the baby they just found is kinda rough). It's choosing not to go to therapy (not that we know whether Grant specifically did/does or not but all the same). It's choosing not to apologize when your child is upset with you because of something you did. It's choosing not to take them or their friends seriously. It's choosing to lie instead of trust. It's an endless amount of choices that Grant (and Marco) made every step of the way!

As a final note for this section, what's particularly unfortunate is that even with Lincoln's disownment, Grant still has failed to show any major signs of change. Note this telling exchange (from episode 40):

Grant: I-I understand that. I just thought. Just something that just occurred to me. Hey Dood.

Dood: Yeah?

Grant: Why did you kill those two guys?

Dood: Because I love you so much and I wanted to protect you.

Grant: Okay. That's all I wanted to know.

In which Grant is still making excuses rather than owning up to or apologizing for anything or striving to change his behavior in the future. What's great about Grant's "point" here too is that the two guards that d00d killed were absolutely unnecessary deaths, so this example does anything but work in Grant's favor.

Part 2/4: "My mother hates her body, we share the same outline"

But this is only part of the problem. As aforementioned, we learn early on and see repeated on multiple occasions that Grant thinks ill of himself to the point of believing that he deserves death, and does not want Lincoln to be anything like him.

This affects Lincoln in two major ways. Perhaps most obviously, it leaves Lincoln greatly concerned for his dad's wellbeing, which in turn acts as his main motivation for trying (and failing) to get Grant to explore and explain those feelings. Additionally, however, Grant's self-loathing also has a passive but deeply damaging effect on Lincoln's self-worth. The most important indication of this is when Lincoln says:

"Okay. Look, Scary, I just... You know what? I don't even care. I just needed a friend and I don't know… I don’t know what you're going through, but… no, my dad always said you can't love somebody unless you love yourself, right? Well, last time I asked him if he loved himself, he… He doesn't. So… I don't know, so maybe he doesn't love me either. And you seem to know what that's like, and, you're my friend! You're dealing with these things and I'm just here. I just, I don't know! I don't love myself either! I don't know! But I know that more people will die if we can't do this together, and you're the only person, like, in this group— I mean you guys are, I mean— [sighs] Look, you can go. I'm not going to stop you. You go if you want to go. I'm done."

Also classic Lincoln move to say he doesn't care then proceed to hug Scary through an Eldritch Blast. In this essay, on why people misuse the word "apathy" in applying it to Lincoln,

Though the issue comes up again in a less obvious but very interesting way when Lincoln says that:

Which I assume probably seems pretty out of left field. To explain a bit what I'm trying to get at here, consider the following scenario:

Your parent, who you care about immensely, possesses certain qualities (say, idk, intrusive thoughts or mood swings or delusional thoughts or *something*) that they possess great shame over, and truly, wholeheartedly believe makes them "evil" or unlovable or even outright deserving of death. Of course, you do not believe that your parent is any of these things, it hurts to see that they feel this way about them-self, so you try your best to support them, even if you know deep down that you are their child and this should not be your responsibility. Your parent does not see the effect that their mental state is having on yours, does not take your voices of concern seriously, and mostly leaves you feeling like you are talking to a wall.

This hurts already, but it gets worse. You are your parent's child, and you are human, and so you inevitably find yourself with some of the characteristics that your parent loathes so much in them-self. Maybe you have similar thought patterns. Maybe you've made similar mistakes. Your parent doesn't love them-self because of these qualities that you now see in yourself, so how can you be sure that they do not hate you for them too? Do they believe that you deserve to die for these things as well? Your parent obviously assures you to the contrary, after all, they love you more than anything. But your parent fails to offer any meaningful line of distinction between their flaws and yours (after all, there isn't one, not really), and continues to assert that, unlike you, they really do deserve to die. Your parent is a hypocrite, and their reassurance does little to convince you.

Hopefully that makes some sense. With regards to the "dreams about killing my dads" part, mostly what I'm trying to say is that these dreams, while certainly very different from Grant's conscious thoughts about violence, still tread the line of mimicking them to some degree, and Grant's "I deserve to die because of how my brain works, don't be anything like me because that's bad!" really doesn't leave Lincoln with a healthy way to process and interpret this fact about himself, even if these dreams don't actually say anything about who he is as a person.

Anyways all that to say, on multiple levels Grant's unwillingness to even try to love himself and treat himself better has been having effects on his son that he can't even begin to realize, in addition to everything discussed in the first bit.

"But baba," I hear you say, "what about Marco? Why has Lincoln seemingly disowned both of his dads?"

Part 3/4: Three is the loneliest number

Well, I think there's a couple things going on here. For one thing, I think in a sense Lincoln sees his dads as kind of a "package deal", which is to say that from his pov disowning Grant means Marco would have to pick a side, and though it pains him immensely (as we see evidence of on several occasions), Lincoln would ultimately rather give up Marco than have Grant be left alone without either of them, because he will always love and care about Grant, and because he's selfless that way.

Additionally, for a good long while, Lincoln doesn't actually appear to harbor any resentment towards Marco:

However, this later part of the season has brought with it a new wave of disillusionment, and in its wake Lincoln has finally come to question the last major issue characterizing his relationship with his parents: social isolation.

We have known from basically the first episode of the season that Lincoln has lived a very isolated, lonely life, and that the only reason he's even going to public high school now is because he finally convinced Grant to let him:

As a side note, I have seen discussion of the fact that since Lincoln was rescued from the Titanic, it's possible that he was homeschooled solely because he did not legally exist. The above statement from Matt seems to work against this theory, in addition to the fact that if Lincoln was missing legal papers to get into elementary school... That would also prevent him from going to high school. Also, I mean. If you actually were to find an abandoned baby there's a whole legal process you're supposed to go through, and since Lincoln surely wouldn't have any close blood relatives around, that would still leave the possibility for Grant and Marco to adopt him legally if they wanted to (and if they chose not to go through said process, that's kind of on them?). Which isn't to say that this theory is out of the question, but in any case being homeschooled is one thing, whereas the actual degree of social isolation Lincoln goes through growing up is way more than just that, as we will delve into.

Now, we know that Grant eventually puts an end to Lincoln and Normal seeing each other on the basis that Lark and Sparrow are dangerous, which... Itself is actually fair tbh, in particular given what we now know about Hero. Not fair to Lincoln or Normal, obviously, but understandable. Much less acceptable, is the fact that Lincoln actually grows up without any friends his age whatsoever:

We understand of course that the motives behind this extreme social isolation are not malicious or otherwise done with ill-intent, but that doesn't make this even remotely okay! Of course then Lincoln is very clingy and perhaps even territorial over his dads, to the point where one of his biggest fears is his parents having another child who would take some of their attention away from him- they've created an environment in which they are basically all he has!

As a direct result of this, Lincoln gets lonely very easily, and when he finally does make some friends of his own, he will do anything and everything for them, even if it means risking his own life (at least then he isn't alive and lonely!)

This is also why Lincoln is so especially distraught after the loss of Mr. Kicks, a digital avatar whom he considered his best (and only) friend.

Additionally, Lincoln's fear of returning to his lonesome childhood creates an unfortunate scenario in which he cannot be honest with his dads about the fact that he is being bullied at school

Even though that is definitely the case (and in fact we see it first-hand on many occasions), because to do so would run the risk of his dads taking him out of public school, and that, to him, is worse.

Lincoln beginning to view this aspect of his childhood (the isolation but also the over-protectiveness and overbearing attitude more generally) for what it is is why Matt's intros have recently shifted from "schooled at home" to "schooled in prison", in addition to pretty directly saying that high school was like heaven compared to his home life (in episode 40), and I don't think Lincoln is even remotely in the wrong for looking back at his isolation and thinking "hey, even if you had good intentions, that was kind of fucked up actually, and I need to distance myself from you for my own sake."

Not that Lincoln wanting freedom from his overbearing dads is a new thing! I mean apart from what one can logically infer from Lincoln convincing Grant to let him go to public school, Matt does drop a bunch of telling details here and there such as Lincoln's favorite sound being "the silence of being home alone and free". It's just that now is when these feelings are finally starting to come to the surface.

It is also something that Lincoln naturally would hold against both Grant and Marco, because they are both aware of and responsible for this aspect of his upbringing (whether Marco acted actively or as an enabler in the matter notwithstanding- though I would look no further than both Grant and Marco getting red cards the one time they tried letting Lincoln play soccer with other kids to observe how that family dynamic plays out), hence feeling the need to cut himself off from the both of them in order to set a long-overdue boundary. That said, to be honest with you, I really don't think he's actually all that upset with Marco, and would mostly just like to see him again.

If the events of the Titanic help to ease any aspect of Lincoln's frustration, it would be this one. Not in the sense that it magically makes what Lincoln went through growing up okay, but it does still recontextualize Grant and Marco's degree of overbearingness and (part of) why they are how they are, and I absolutely think that Lincoln would have sympathy for that.

So, where does that leave us?

Part 4/4: What remains (+ the case study of Scary)

"But baba," you say, "Grant and Marco are not just their mistakes! They've both done so many things right as parents, and they love Lincoln more than anything!"

I turn to you, tears in my eyes. "I know," I say, "I know, but that does not contradict or erase the fact that they have inadvertently hurt Lincoln in many, many ways, and he has a right to be upset with them, and express that, and set boundaries if he feels the need to."

You sigh. "So do you think Grant is a good dad or a bad one?" you ask.

I shake my head. "He's just... He's just a dad. A dad who's had a rough swing of things from the beginning. He never meant to hurt Lincoln, and I truly believe he's got a good heart, but I want to see him try harder. I need to see him try harder than he currently is to better himself, for Lincoln's sake as much as his own."

Is... More or less how I feel. I absolutely agree that as a parent Grant obviously gives a shit, and my intention here is absolutely not to say "hey actually, Grant is awful!"

As I mentioned at the very beginning of this essay, however, collectively I have found over the course of the season that Lincoln's trauma and struggles have gone severely understated and undermined, sometimes to the point of even turning him into the bad guy or depicting him as acting dramatic for a decision that I think was very brave of him, actually. So... It does feel necessary to me to point out that, as much as I care about Grant and recognize that he's suffered immensely too, he's still made a lot of mistakes over the course of the season, and still has a lot of room to grow as a person.

As things currently are, I would not blame Lincoln if he did not forgive Grant by the end of the season. Do I think that's what's gonna happen? No lol.

If you'll excuse a mini side-tangent, because for now I don't really want to make this a separate post, the mid-season evolution of Lincoln and Scary's relationship is actually a great case study for Lincoln's capacity for forgiveness, in addition to his inability to give up on people:

Tony Pepperoni's murder is, I would argue, an attack against Lincoln most personally (relative to the other teens). Aside from Lincoln having the strongest pacifistic tendencies of the group, it's in his home, it's in front of Marco, as established in the 3rd section Tony Pepperoni, by virtue of having been over for dinners at the Li-Wilson household before, is someone Lincoln knows more personally than the other teens and one of the only people in his life he could have possibly approximated to a friend. Most importantly though, Scary goes behind Lincoln's back in letting Willy out and disclosing the location of the party, and that is a significant breach of trust.

So Lincoln kicks Scary out of the house (and more or less out of the group by extension) because protecting the others from her is the most important thing at that point in time (sound familiar?). For the next bit, Lincoln's behavior towards Scary becomes a juggling act of keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't cause more harm (and yes, it's also when they are meanest with each other), but also keeping a close eye on her to look after her (a notable example of this being that he doesn't leave her behind in the hall of mirrors, even when it would have been easier and perhaps even "beneficial" to do so in the context of the anchor quest).

And yet despite all the mutual hostility, Lincoln without question also fights the hardest to get Scary back. He breaks the pick as a sign of trust (and as Freddie put it: "that's love babeeey") and to show her she's welcome back in the group, follows through on this decision despite the fact that it creates a temporary rift between him and the others (Normal and Taylor) who oppose her return (perhaps a good time to also say as a reminder that Lincoln was the most against letting Willy out in the first place), breaks a door down to protect her from Willy even when everyone else in the house treats him as crazy for doing so, refuses to fight Scary when she goes on the offense, and hugs her through a god damn eldritch blast because he can't let her leave and hurt more people but still cares about her to the point that he would literally choose to die before hurting her or giving up on fighting for her. Like, if that's not love and forgiveness, I don't fucking know what is. This in addition to him encouraging the others to go easy on her and otherwise looking out for her past that point.

So do I think Lincoln Li-Wilson has it in him to forgive Grant in spite of it all? That is a resounding yes from me. Will the events of the Titanic facilitate this if only by painting Grant's situation in a more sympathetic light and showcasing some of his virtues? Totally, I mean, there's a reason Anthony decided to make the arc go this way. But will I be a bit disappointed if this forgiveness comes without any major growth on Grant's part? Also. Also yes yeah.

MM. I DON'T REALLY KNOW HOW TO END THIS ONE TBH. Heh. Well, thank you for one thing, for taking the time to read a post this long. If you're reading this not too long after I posted it I am most definitely pacing around rn going "oh god they hate it!" but uh. Well that's a me problem lol. Anyways, I hope this proves to be at least somewhat insightful? ...Yeah no apart from that I really am struggling to end this properly and honestly I'm real sleepy lol so I'll just say again (whether you agree with the points listed here or not) THANKS FOR HEARING ME OUT Y'ALL AND TAKE CARE.

#dndads #lincoln li wilson #grant wilson #Nervous about this one! Well I always am with these but people can be a bit touchy when it comes to Grant especially so there's that.#dungeons and daddies #but what can you do ig!#marco li #long post #baba babbles #<- tag I still don't use usually smh #second section especially I think is where I'm really like- man I *hope* I'm expressing myself alright and people get what I'm laying down #scary marlowe #suuuuure yeah enough Scary here that I can tag her in I think

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