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psychovigilantewrites · 3 years

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Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary: Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

#Red Who #Red Hood x Reader #jason todd x reader

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zedecksiew · 3 years

Text

Kriegsmesser

When I received Kriegsmesser in the mail I finally googled "kriegsmesser", and found out it meant "war knife". Which makes sense; Gregor Vuga's ZineQuest 2021 project is a tribute to "roleplaying games named after medieval weapons".

I love Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay's piss-renaissance Old World setting. I tend to pick up WFRP-a-likes sight unseen:

Warlock (quality);

Small But Vicious Dog (yesss);

Zweihander (which I have come to hate); etc.

Anyway: I backed Kriegsmesser without really knowing anything about it. So Kriegsmesser surprised me.

Kriegsmesser grew out of a Troika! cutting. Its 36 backgrounds are compatible with that system: each come with a couple of lines of description; a list of skills and possessions; an a visual cameo cropped from actual 16th-Century woodcut art.

Cohesive and competently flavourful. My favourite is the Labourer, who always starts with "an empty pine box":

"You've spent your life breaking your back, working hard for other people's profit. You have nothing to show for it but a spectre of the future."

(The obligatory ratcatcher-analogue , called the Vermin Snatcher, is here -- check that box!)

Kriegsmesser also comes with its own ruleset. Hits all the notes it needs to, with lots of orientation and advice for how to run a game -- but ultimately super-simple, mechanically:

Roll d6s equal to the value in a relevant skill, look at the highest result. 6 means you get what you want; 5 or 4 means you get what you want, at a cost.

It's not quite a dice pool, since only the highest result matters. No opposed tests.

Kriegsmesser intends to have this base mechanic handle fights, too. The combat rules - with armour, toughness and weapon values -- are nested in an optional section.

For a WFRP-a-like, this feels like a purposeful departure.

Many of WFRP's most celebrated adventures are celebrated for bits that their underlying ruleset does little to support: the investigative structure of "Shadows Over Bogenhafen"; the complicated timetable of "Rough Night At Three Feathers".

Ludwig von Wittgenstein never needed a statblock to be memorable.

Not to say that lethal, hyper-detailed fights isn't super Warhammer-y. (Kriegsmesser includes an injury table, broken down by body-part -- check that box!)

But here it feels like Gregor is saying: "I'm not Games Workshop and Roleplay isn't an ancillary of Warhammer Fantasy Battle; we can evoke grim-and-perilous-ness even if we fork away from heavy combat rules."

It has become ritual for me to read my partner Sharon to sleep.

Sometimes I read her RPG things. The other night, after I read her Kriegsmesser's introduction --

" The Empire wages an eternal war against Chaos. Its priests preach of Chaos as an intrusion, something unnatural ... These men see Chaos in anything that does not buttress their rule. They call it disorder, anarchy, corruption. They say that to rebel against their order is to rebel against god and nature. That the current arrangement is natural, rather than artificial.

" Meanwhile, the common people look to the Empire to deliver the justice that they were promised and they find none. They look to the Empire and do not see themselves reflected in it. They look around at what they were taught was right and good and see only misery.

" Their world begins to unravel. Chaos comes to reside in every heart and mind sound enough to look at the world and conclude it is broken. "

-- Sharon remarked: "Nice one."

The RPG things I read her generally leave Sharon lukewarm. She has enjoyed a couple -- but, yeah: for many of these books, text isn't their strong point.

Kriegsmesser is the only time I can recall Sharon praising the writing of an RPG book without my prompting.

Nice one.

That introduction surprised me. It underlines Kriegsmesser's biggest departure from its WFRP-a-like pedigree: how it characterises Chaos.

Corruption, a mainstay of most grim-dark-y games, is made an optional rule, like combat. Explaining this, Gregor writes:

" Kriegsmesser partially subverts or deconstructs the traditional conceit of Warhammer where the characters are threatened by the forces of Chaos. In this game it is the player characters who are the agents of 'Chaos': they are likely to become the 'rats' under the streets, and the wild 'beast-men' in the woods bringing civilisation down. It's the Empire and its nobles and priests that are corrupt ... "

Describing the Empire, Gregor writes:

" The Empire encompasses the world yet is terrified of the without. It enforces itself with steel and fire yet considers itself benevolent. It consumes the labour of others with bottomless hunger yet calls its subalterns lazy, or wasteful, or greedy. "

Holy shit this is the first time I've seen the word "subaltern" in an RPG thing, I think?

I love this.

Rant incoming:

With every passing decade Warhammer abridges its Moorcockian roots more and more; nowadays it is "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", pretty much.

Gone are the days when chaos berserkers are implied to grant safe passage to the helpless (because Khorne is as much a god of martial honour as he is a god of bloodletting); Or that the succor of Papa Nurgle is a genuine comfort to the downtrodden; Or that Tzeentch could unironically embody the principle of hope, of change for the better.

As Chaos is distilled into unequivocal villainy, Order goons get painted as Good Guys by default --

Giving rise to Warhammer's contemporary problem, wherein fans are no longer able to recognise satire.

When I was introduced to 40K, it seemed pretty clear that the Imperium was a Brazil-esque absurdist-fascist bureaucratic state: planets are exterminatus-ed due to clerical error; the way it stamps out rebellions is the reason why rebellions begin in the first place.

Tragi-comic grimdarkness. That was the point.

Nowadays that tone has shifted -- and you're more likely than not going to encounter a 40K fan who argues that the Imperium's evils are a justified necessity, to prevent worse wrongs.

We went from:

"Space Nazis because insane dumbass fuckery, also chainswords vroom vroom rule of badass!"

To:

"Space Nazis because it makes sense actually, and also chainswords make sense because [insert convoluted rationalisation here]."

Even Fantasy Flight's Black Crusade line, which ostensibly offers a look at 40K from the perspective of Chaos, never truly commits to its conceit.

With prep you could play a heroic band of mutant freedom fighters, resisting the tyranny of the Evil Imperium --

But I don't remember Black Crusade giving that kind of campaign any actual support. Its supplements service the relatively more conventional "You can play villains!" angle; the Screaming Vortex is a squarely Daemons-vs-Daemons setting.

This tonal drift culminates, in my mind, with Age of Sigmar, Games Workshop's heroic-fantasy replacement of the old WFRP / WHFB setting.

Here's the framing narrative for AoS's recently-launched Third Edition. Let's see whether I've got things right:

A highly professionalised, technologically-superior tip-of-the-spear fighting force (the Stormcast Eternals);

Backed by an imperialist military-industrial complex (Azyrheim);

"Liberating" rich new territories (Ghur) for exploitation by a civilised settler culture (Settlers of Sig-- I mean, Free Cities);

Justified because the locals are irredeemable heathens (Chaos and Kruleboyz).

I mean, that's a sweet-ass Warhammer setting. It's contemporary, laser-guided lampoon. Except it is played totally straight.

In AoS, a literal crusade is justified as the moral good.

I think Kriegsmesser surprised me because its framing of Chaos -- as a promise, as the light of hope shining through cracks of a broken world --

It feels so fucking right.

Yes: its a subaltern deconstruction of the conventional moral universe of Warhammer -- but it is a take that is also already implied / all but supported in the various depictions of the setting: from WFRP to the modified title-crawl of Black Crusade.

I'm annoyed I didn't think of it, myself. Damn you, Gregor!

And I'm annoyed that more Warhammer fans aren't thinking it, also.

lmagine if Kriegsmesser's perspective stood on equal standing as the GW orthodoxy. Imagine if, instead of simplifying stuff into "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", GW did a Gregor Vuga.

You'd have a Rashomon-ed Warhammer, where villainy depends on perspective:

You are fearful villagers, huddled around your priest, muttering prayers against the wild braying coming from the trees beyond your gates.

You are Aqshyian tribeswomen, defying the thunder warrior towering over you, the foreigner demanding you bow to his foreign god.

You are a Tzeentchian revolutionary cell, desperately trying to disrupt a Inquisitor's transmissions so your home planet isn't destroyed by fascist orbital fire.

Get Kriegsmesser HERE.

+++

( Image sources: https://theenemywithinremixed.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/thoughts-on-the-4e-death-on-the-reik/ https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/59-brazil https://www.deviantart.com/faroldjo/art/Warhammer-40k-Black-Crusade-273596035 https://www.warhammer-community.com/2021/06/09/fancy-a-new-life-bringing-order-to-the-mortal-realms-join-a-dawnbringer-crusade-today/ https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/team-america-15-anniversary-south-park-2558750 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palestinian_children_and_Israeli_wall.jpg )

#reviews #kriegsmesser #gregor vuga #warhammer #writing #rants #overthinking #rpgs #wfrp

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prettyblfan · 3 years

Text

Coffee Shop Boy

That can remember the softness in those dark brown eyes as the wound on his knuckle was treated, That can remember quite well the pretty boy at the coffee shop in the oversized pink hoodie, That can definitely remember the pretty boy at the coffee shop and he might just have made a habit out of visiting at unreasonable hours with injuries. Sorawit the said pretty boy at the coffee shop looks forward to seeing the handsome boy that always turns up at 4.30am all battered and bruised but he just hoped he'd stop getting injured.

And somewhere along the lines they both fall in love, but neither of them are quite sure where.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All in all a That x Sorawit coffee shop au that no one asked for but I delivered anyway. Essentially, gangsta That falling in love with the pretty boy at the coffee shop all whilst his boss falls in love with the owner of the coffee shop that may or may not be the brother of that said pretty boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One.

From Sorawit perspective.

Sorawit flipped over the sign on the door, which read in bold.

The Pink Lily is now open for business.

It had been almost three months since him and Bun had moved to the area. So how did they end up with a coffee shop you wonder? Long story short Bun with his upright sense of justice couldn't stand to see a poor old lady being swindled out of her money so he decided to buy the coffee shop from her at the price it was actually worth. And i know what you're thinking why couldn't he just have told her she was being scammed, well you see she was desperate for the money as her husband needed urgent treatment. Hence why she was willing to settle for what ever price she could get.

So, that's how Sorawit ended up wiping down tables and organising coffee at 4.20am in the morning.

But of course he didn't mind he loved the Pink Lily with all his heart it was covered in his favourite thing flowers, from head to toe there wasn't a corner without them.

After all the Pink Lily was designed to be a place that you could go and put your worries to rest at least for a while.

Today was Sorawit's first time doing the early morning shift which started at 4am and ended 7am. He usually did the evening or late evening shift depending on how much work and studying he had to do as he was still a highschool student. Unfortunately that became a problem when he couldn't function in class or stay a wake for long, so Bun ended up having to switch him out so he'd have more time to rest in the evenings.

Regardless of the shift change Sorawit didn't really care although he would have to say that he preferred the early morning shift a lot better already as it was quieter and he got to work alone, usually with the evening shifts he would work alongside two other members of staff and although they were friendly and easy to get along with Sorawit albeit being the outgoing person he is liked to be alone sometimes. On the other hand the late evening shift was much worse he had to work along side Bun, not that his brother was bad no quite the contrary he was amazing and Sorawit couldn't live without him. You see the problem was after work he was a complete nightmare, and Sorawit tried to understand it must be hard to work in a hospital not only being a doctor but also a forensic pathologist but there is only so much nitpicking he can handle.

Being so caught up in his thoughts Sorawit hardly heard the door chime, he quickly turned around to greet the customer. He was slightly nervous as unlike the other shifts he didn't know what kind of customers he'd get and although Bun tried to ease his nerves by leaving a note with the coffees that the regular early morning customers would get and their names, Sorawit was pretty sure none of them arrived this early.

"Morning what can..." Sorawit trailed off fast, the rest of his sentence had already left his head as he stared at the handsome boy standing in the door way.

His black hair was push back and out of his face, allowing his facial features to stand out more. Although they had a certain sharpness to them Sorawit couldn't help but think he was kind of cute, the roundness of his face and the puffiness of he cheeks contrasted heavily with the rest of his overall look.

He was dressed in black from head to toe and if that didn't slightly intimidate Sorawit then the cold arura he gave off definitely did. But despite all of this one thing he couldn't deny was the fact that the boy standing in front of him was handsome, too much so that he lost half of his sentence just by looking at him.

"Can I have a caramel latte" the boy spoke as he sat down at the table closest to the door.

'How funny' Sorawit thought nodding his head at the boy, he would have never pegged him as the type to like sweet things he seemed way more like a bitter kind of guy.

The boys voice was alot deeper than he was expecting it to be and the fact that he never broke eye contact with him also made him feel a bit tingly. It was like he had ran a marathon, his heart was pounding in his chest.

'Should I ask Bun to check it out' he pondered the last thing he wanted to end up with was a heart condition.

"With cream or without" Sorawit replied after he had finished making the coffee.

"With." A short response came from the customer sat by the door.

After finishing the last touches on his latte Sorawit brought it over carefully, you see he had the tendency to be quite clumsy on his first day he managed to spill at least 10 cups of coffee in which resulted in Bun saying that he's lucky he's cute. He never really got what he meant by that how did being clumsy have anything to do with being cute?

"Would you like anything else to go with that we have pastries." Sorawit smiled gently at him before placing the coffee down on the table, whilst doing so he couldn't help but catch a glimps of the boys bleeding knuckle which he failed to see earlier.

Actually now looking at him closer he seemed to have faded bruises on his cheek and near his mouth.

"No." Hearing a response Sorawit quickly pulled his attention away from his face and turn around heading back to the kitchen area.

The entire time he felt eyes on him.

'I think I might seriously have a heart problem' he thought resting his hand against his chest.

Once he had managed to settle his heart he open the cupboard storing the first aid kit and pulled it out, before making his way back over to the table. By this time he had already finished half of his coffee.

"You're bleeding." Sorawit pointed out obviously but he didn't know how to go about the situation, wouldn't it be a bit strange if he asked.

"Umm" like before the boy kept his response short staring blanking at Sorawit.

Again Sorawit had seemed to lose the ability to breathe, he really needed to make a mental note to tell Bun about this.

"Do you want me to..." Sorawit trailed off unsure of what to say, he wasn't usually like this he was actually very confident around people he just met. However, Sorawit couldn't help but feel a bit nervous he didn't want to mess up.

Without a reply the boy simply just put his bleeding hand on the table.

"Ah" Sorawit quickly realised what the signal meant and pulled out the chair next to him.

Treating and bandaging wounds was no problem for him after all not only has he learnt from Bun but his whole family had worked in the medical field. His dad was a doctor whilst his mum worked in dentistry, when they were still alive he felt a huge amount of pressure to follow in their foot steps just like his brother. Although they had never forced him and were completely supportive in whatever he wanted to do he still felt as if it was like an unspoken rule. That coupled with the fact that Sorawit had no idea what he wanted to do in the future, the pressure had always seemed to build up but more so now after their deaths he felt as if he should honour them in some way.

"How did you get injured" Sorawit spoke pulling himself out of his thoughts, the silence was too loud and it was killing him.

"I fought" he said looking up to meet Sorawit's gaze.

'How can someone be so handsome' Sorawit pondered before breaking eye contact and focusing back on his hand.

"Ah, so you lost?" Sorawit teased, finally becoming more comfortable.

"No, you just haven't seen the other guy" he shot back raising his eyebrow.

It was then for the first time Sorawit saw him smile even if it was a small one, teasing and filled with ridicule Sorawit couldn't tell he was too taken aback to notice. He was alot more handsome when he smiled.

"Why did you fight?" Sorawit continued to question, curiosity filling his eyes.

"Because...." he paused running his other hand through his hair before saying with a light smirk,

"Not telling." "Huh, fine." Sorawit said followed by a short pout.

"Why not." Sorawit ask again quickly trying to force an answer out of him, as to his surprise the other gave in.

"They picked a fight" the boy responded pulling back his hand seeing that he had finished.

"Why?" Sorawit asked, he wasn't sure why he was asking all these question but he couldn't help himself but want to know.

Whilst he was waiting for a response he started to clean up the mess he had made when all of a sudden a bandaged hand came up to his chest and lifted up the name tag hanging from his oversized pink hoodie.

"Sorawit huh, you're quite curious" he said completely ignoring his question.

It was then when he realised that he completely forgot to ask for his name. But feeling a little bit embarrassed Sorawit didn't bother to ask now.

"It's natural to be curious It's not every day someone walks in looking like death" he fired back quickly getting up to return the first aid kit back to It's place.

Ignoring Sorawit once again he pulled out his wallet and placed some money on the table before saying,

"That. My name if you were also curious about that"

And like that before Sorawit could respond That was gone.

'Weird.'

Sorawit thought, That was strange. Viangpa Mork was a pretty small village and he'd like to think that although they've only been there for three months they've practically already met everyone. Yet the boy named That had seemed to appear out of nowhere, he looked about Sorawit age or may be a year older which could explain why he hasn't seen him in school but overall That was a very mysterious character.

Sorawit quickly got over it there was no point dwelling on it he mostly likely never see the boy again. He walked back over to the table to collect the money only to see that the odd and mysterious That had left 620 baht for a 300 baht coffee.

'Did he also hit his head' Sorawit thought it was either that or he was stupid.

*^*

Love at first sight all whilst being completely oblivious we love that for you Sorawit.

Next chapter in the making but I am a procrastinator so it may take a hot minute but as I mentioned before I am very dedicated to That x Sorawit so I will not let you guys down.

P.s this chapter was like a mini intro hopefully they'll get a bit longer but I mean I wouldn't bet on it my procrastinating game is strong. I would also say I proof read but I didn't so mistakes will change when I read over it and notice them but also don't be shy feel free to point them out to me. And no I did not forget Nam the iconic trio will live on.

#manner of death #boys love #that x sorn #that x sorawit #tat x sorawit #tan x bun #thatsorn #tatsorn

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ranmanjuu · 4 years

Note

hi! can you do a gen z mc who got injured at the protests and have them elaborate on what the protests were about to the oda forces? i got tear gassed at a protest so your writing is actually helping me feel better!

tw : injuries from police br*tality, heavy r*cism

first of all i hope you’re okay!! i’m so sorry for taking so long i hope you’re still here reading this ehhh,,. i personally don’t know much of ‘getting injured in protests’ other than rubber bullets and tear gassing—and for anyone out there protesting (also considering recent things that have happened in my country,,,), please be safe out there!

ᅠᅠ

—nobunaga:

the first encounter you had, he didn’t really notice it. he had a lot of things on his plate, mostly about his assassination attempt, you know, the usual.

it’s only when he invites you to his tenshu to know more about his most interesting chatelaine. after all, the moment his life was out of danger, the immediate groan out of you raised a brow.

in your defense, going back from a protest then just sent back 500 years in the past did put you in a pissy mood. the injustice was enough bullshit, you didn’t want to deal with this right after.

and,,, your response was probably too snarky for a man in power like him. but that’s what compelled him to bring you to the castle. maybe it was spite, or just dangerous curiosity. no one’s spoken to him in such,,, rude manners before.

being all past the whole, chasing-you-down-just-for-you-to-come-to-my-sickass-castle, the dragged-500-years-into-the-warring-states-period, constant-wars-everywhere, and everything in between, you’ve managed to,, calm down decently, at least. you’re just really confused as to why he called you in.

through your slippery tounge, you accidentally let it slip that you’re from the future; great job! mission one from sasuke already failed. but—you’ve dug your grave, now you have to lie in it.

upon listening to the rest of your explanation, naturally, nobunaga starts asking questions.

after a series of them, mostly about general stuff like technology, etc., he hits you with a curveball. “what is that?” he asks, observing the small patch of reddened skin.

you’ve been shot by a rubber bullet prior to the time traveling. you wager that they were aiming for the neck—a highly fatal area to hit, even with a rubber bullet, mind you—but you were lucky enough to only be hit near the collar bone. still—to say it’s inexcusable is an understatement.

“huh—?” you follow his eyes, then trail your fingers on the edge as you show more of your injury, “. . .got injured a while back. asshole cops think they can just. . .fuckin’. . .”

your sentence turns too faint for him to hear clearly, he only knows that you feel anger from your tone. all he does is gaze passively as the steam comes out of your, slowly.

“what happened exactly?”

and with that one question, he’s in for quite the story. you start off in the beginning; what triggered it all. the injustice brought by those who are said to protect the people, the same ones that shed blood because they knew they could get away with it. then, the protests done by the ones who wanted justice, equality, something that should just be the norm at this point.

and then, the horrible attacks the cops’ve done to hose who protested,,, the mere thought gets your blood boiling, really. no one poised any kind of harm, it was a peaceful protest—and yet they still hurted, perhaps even killed. and they get away with it.

“. . .and i sure as hell ain’t gonna die to some bullshit system. i’ll keep on going at it until people can stop dying so. . .needlessly like that.”

he pauses after hearing you. his eyes have a vague sense of scrutinize, but certainly not at you. "and you still continue to go, even if it results in injuries for you?”

you look back at him, determination burning like a passion, “as long as less people will die of discrimination; as long as our cause is heard in the end—i’ll sacrifice anything for it. for equality.”

the silence rings for minutes.

but the hand on your shoulder quickly strays your mind back to him. to your surprise, a daring smile, almost a smirk, pulled his lips, “you are braver than many men that i’ve met. fiery and passionate also. i do believe you’ll be quite the addition here.”

and while you raise an eyebrow to that, your heart settles as he ends it with one final thing, “you’ve earned my utmost respect.”

ᅠᅠ

—hideyoshi:

he would have been highly alerted in your presence—had it not been the fact that your eye was bruised and injured. it was fresh, the patch of skin having not turn purple or black yet, but it was enough to signal that it could be a fatal wound.

medics were sent your way by his command, and given the opportunity, he checked in on you frequently. the culprit of the attempted assassination was yet to be found—so he just assumed that you were a poor civilian caught in the crossfire.

you were rather crude to him, but he brushed it all off. you must’ve been some sort of stressed out after just saving his lord, so he gave you space and went to do other things.

it’s when they reconvene under nobunaga’s order did he find out about the decision for your fate.

“my lord, are you sure we should bring them back to azuchi? perhaps they have a place in a town around here.”

“—not really.” hideyoshi’s eyes filled with surprise and concern as a small response came out of you, with eyes looking away from everyone in the tent with lips bitten anxiously and brows stitched together.

so it ended on you going to azuchi along with them. because really, even if you didn’t want to, what were you to do? you had no place in the sengoku, and you’ve forgotten all about your scouts lessons back in middle school to survive in the forest.

and while you insist on working rather than just be royalty basically, hideyoshi is the one who persuades you to at least rest first. with a sigh, you agree.

from then on, you find him visiting you quite often between his breaks. most of the time, asking how you’ve been, making light conversations over tea, and sometimes fussing over the smallest things. it’s a gradual change you’ll get used to—from the failed assassination to the weird, home-y feeling he brings.

it didn’t take long for his curiosity to push him. one day, with the usual cup of tea, the silence passes for quite the moment until he spoke up, “if i may ask, where exactly,,, did you get that?”

he doesn’t quite point to it, but you know what he’s talking about. half your vision is covered now, from ieyasu’s work on trying to make it better. you stare in the cup, swishing the tea around, “. . .my town had, uhhh, ‘problems’.”

he listened intently as you reworded the current real life events. just change the cops to guard, the bullets to blunt sticks(?), etc. the core of it you kept the same, the discrimination, the unruly deaths and wounds of the innocent.

all the while, hideyoshi looks at you with slightly parted lips and eyes that spell a bit of disbelief. such compassion don’t exist in a lot of people—much less a majority of civillians from a town. he thought he’d’ve heard about it, but you did say it was quite the small one, far away.

as you finish your long explanation, your face was scrunched up in a scowl, remembering the scene at the time. the cops came, a highly dangerous situation; but you weren’t leaving just like that. not until you got hit by a bullet did you go back home—and look where you are now.

“—.” hideyoshi calls out your name, snapping you to reality. you dart your attention to him, his face filled with concern, worry—but also slight anger and a distant sense of fondness.

“. . .when nobunaga unites the country, we’ll be sure to aid you. we’ll stop them from hurting anyone else. so until then, please stay with us.”

the sentiment brought warmth to your heart, but you knew the truth. he wouldn’t be able to, the wormhole was a big separation in that. even so, you shook your head, “i don’t,,, uhh, think i can stay for that long.”

his brows stitch together in confusion, “and why is that?”

“. . .i want to go back as soon as i can. and—i only have one chance to do such a thing, and never again.” upon your answer, his eyes widened a bit. no further questions were asked about that, as your own expression said you didn’t want to talk about it.

“but—you could be in danger if you go back.”

“i don’t care.” the tea is cold as you set it down, “. . .i don’t wanna,,, just escape and turn a blind eye to it, i think. it may be safer for me here, but—i still want to help back there. whether or not i’m injured is,,, a means to an end, for me.”

that’s when every suspicion he could’ve had about you dissolved. the determination and righteousness that burned so brightly in your voice was irreplaceable. along with that, was a very deep respect for you. he serves nobunaga because he believed in equality among everyone, and it seems so do you. even if you’re willing to sacrifice yourself—to see a better world where everyone is happy.

a beat passes. two. with a sigh, hideyoshi’s hardened gaze relents back into the strange warmness, hid hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. “well, i don’t think i agree with you diving into potential danger, but just so you know. if you ever need help, you can always reach to us, alright?”

you breath out a chuckle, “. . .of course.”

ᅠᅠ

—mitsuhide:

your whole entire body was sore even before the wormhole sent you back. not to mention, just after that, you had to carry a full-armored man out of a burning building with someone trying to kill said man.

so to say you were disoriented was quite an understatement.

you didn’t even feel it until days have passed. and at this point, you’ve gone under mitsuhide’s tutoring. being sat down for a long time made it painfully obvious that your body was still healing—but you’ve sang this song a million times before. in which the soreness lingered for a while, and then it’d disappear. you can bear with it.

that is, until he started training you in battle.

the tanegashima practice was fine, if a bit triggering by the gunshots. but you saw it the same as archery. however, sparring on the other hand,,,

yeah. the first break you took, you already felt every single part of you reeling. mitsuhide wasn’t ruthless with you, but you figure he wasn’t being soft either.

in truth, prior to arriving in the sengoku period, your body had taken a hit in a protest. you didn’t get caught in the tear-gassing crossfire, or got shot by a rubber bullet. rather, a police car had arrived at the scene and begun to drive forward into the crowd. it didn’t become a car crash site, no deaths occurred to your knowledge (thankfully).

but you were one of the ones in the front row seats, you fell to the ground and took some damage in a number of places. they were more of inconveniences than anything.

still—forcing your body to fight a trained swordsman was not a good idea.

and the fox has an eye for these things, sensing when his enemies are weak. at least it proves to be a disadvantage if you really are dangerous. his eyes linger on you as you rub your sore spots with the occasional groan.

“the little mouse seems to be wounded.” he says. it’s clear he’s trying to extract some kind of information about the person who just popped out one day, “pray tell, what might be the cause of such?”

“i got, uhhh,” you can’t say car, those don’t exist yet— “knocked down by a horse.” admittedly, a horse is probably more dangerous than a car—but you deal with what you have.

“is that so.” with the smile and narrowed eyes of his, you knew that he didn’t buy it. but to your defense, your state clearly proves it in some way—so he deduced that you weren’t telling the complete truth.

and he welcomes it. it’d be his absolute pleasure to unravel the mystery.

eventually, he does. in promise to keep your secret away from others, you keep his.

“so, little mouse,” the night has yet to pass, but you wish it did. your stuff was spilled in front of you, all evidence of you coming from the future, “was that cover-up story about the horse a lie?”

it’s a rhetorical question; he knew the answer already. still, you roll your eyes, “of course, we rarely use those in the future. a police car hit a crowd, and i was caught in it.”

promptly realizing he doesn’t know anything, a lengthy explanation ensued.

“oh my. and you said this, ‘car’ drove into a crowd? that’s highly dangerous, is it not?”

“it is!” your calm words slowly dissolve, your hands now waving in gestures, “and guess what, it’s the cops that do it! uhh—guards in old terms, i guess. y’know the people who’re said to supposedly protect us? yeah, hit us with a car.”

mitsuhide isn’t the most curious about the future. but he is a bit confused about the context.

and so you continue, explaining everything. from the start, to where you were, along with what your thoughts are on the whole situation

through all that, he stays silent, not commenting until you were thoroughly finished. you can’t read his expression—so you stare at him, waiting for even a word.

suddenly, he smiles, “well, looks like our little mouse is quite the something, aren’t you?” before you could respond with anything, he pats you on the head with a strange sense of softness, “pureness and ideals like you are rare in this world.”

in truth, he agrees. he’s someone who’s faced discrimination head on from being in the lower class—and he fights for a world that his lord would like to see. even if he’ll remain in the dark, for his stained, dark hands would only corrupt the purity. at least, so he thinks.

you look back with pursed lips and a slight frown, “then i’ll help make it more common. if it results in people being treated as people, i’ll do it.”

you don’t hear it, but he draws in a sharp breath. his eyes are muddled—with what, you don’t know—but you drop the thought as he lifts the hand off of your head with a chuckle, “i will say, i didn’t quite expect this.”

they say eyes are the window of the soul. while he had his closed most of the time—you managed to peek in a small bit of warmth and fondness in them.

ᅠᅠ

—masamune:

you came to the sengoku period with a sprained ankle. which, in a time where war was rampant, probably wasn’t a good thing to have. especially when you’re being dragged into battle just for the fun of it.

although you admit you made yourself seem tougher than you were (with you being used to injuries like this before, so you’ve grown used to gritting your teeth), you still curse masamune to hell and back. no, you do not care if you’re on a horse or just in camp, your foot hurt like shit either way.

naturally, you wouldn’t take that for long.

thus the next time he planned to take you along (you could already see the glint in his eye), you snapped at him. well—much less ‘snap’ and more of ‘telling him off rather harshly ft. a sprinkle of swearing’.

“listen, assfart, my ankle’s been killing me, and if i’m going by that analogy, you’re practically desecrating it’s corpse and grave. so for the love of god, stop dragging me into battles!”

an expression of surprise went on his face for a moment, before it morphed to his usual grin, “is that so? seems like out kitten likes to run around and ended up hurting themselves.”

“not my fault they shot me in the fuckin’ ankle. . .” you mutter without a second thought under your breath, which he, unfortunately, heard.

“they shot you, lass?”

seeing his ever so slightly widened eye, you pursed your lips, “yeah. nothing too serious.”

even so, you see the way his eyes narrow with a glint—more so of excitement than anything else, “still though lassie, with you being under nobunaga, i doubt they’ll get away with hurtin’ ya.”

“what does that mean?”

fingers comb through your hair in a wild pat, accompanied with a fanged grin, “they won’t be alive for hurtin’ the lord’s precious lucky charm.”

your lips pursed as a frown pulls upon your brows, “i don’t want them to get away solely for me being nobunaga’s ‘lucky charm’.”

“and why is that, kitten?”

his eyes slightly lit up at your hardened and serious aura as you closed your eyes with a sigh. “the same people who hurt me are the same ones who’ve hurt many others, on the basis that they believe they’re above them; over a stupid thing like race. and i won’t be just letting it slide, even if i can’t fight or anything.”

the flame in your eyes are ones that masamune has grown to recognize; the anger and bitterness as you look back on a memory, only to fill up your heart with passion.

“i’ll die if it means that they’ll be punished and everyone is treated the same.”

silence rings past, the wind slowly becomes a solid aura in the air. stunned, he leaves a small chuckle and pats your head,

“the lord made a wonderful decision to bring ya here, lass.”

—ieyasu:

going by his usual self, he didn’t care much when you arrived, other than you were someone nobunaga picked up from his failed assassination. however, him being an expert in things health related, some things didn’t go by with him.

first of all, your eyes were a slight fade of red. at first he figured it was a leftover from honno-ji’s smokes, but as the days tick by, its persistence is now rather worrying. they should’ve faded away by now, so he thought.

and it became more and more painfully obvious, at least to him. the way you rubbed your eyes sometimes, them tearing up at random intervals—and even you squinting at rare occasions that, unless you had an eye problem like mitsunari, shouldn’t be there.

a seed of worry was planted, although he never expressed it. after all, you were being dragged into battle, where dust and more smoke can easily go into your already bugged eyes.

therefore one day, wordlessly, he took you to his workplace. at first, you were confused; ieyasu hasn’t exactly talked to you a lot.

he picks up a small bottle, along with a cup-like lid, “use this, and wash your eyes with it. and by that i mean just tilt it up and blink when it goes into your eyes.”

you just blinked a few times, stunned more than anything. “,,,, why?”

“you think i don’t notice?” he scoffs, “you’ve been rubbing your eyes like crazy, and it’s past the point where your eyes should even be red since the honno-ji incident. either your eyes have been having problems way before, or you’re just dumber and clumsier than i thought.”

“hey! it’s not my fault, for any of the incidents!”

“so there are multiple instances?”

the judgemental look sent your way was something that your stubborn mind won’t back out from, even if it mean having to somewhat explain your situation.

“w, well, there have been several uhm.... arson crimes in my town, i can’t help but be in the vicinity.”

if arson crimes translated to tear gassings, yes, there were many.

“arson crimes? your town is,,, jeez.”

“it’s not the citizens’ fault, look to the fuckin’ guards of our village for that.” the tone had immediately shifted from a kind of flustered banter, to immediate bitter undertones.

immediately, the silence rang on. ieyasu sat there, looking into you as much as he could, with his bare bones knowledge of you. the pieces were there, and it wasn’t hard to put them together. for a moment, he wondered if you were more than the unfortunate one to be pulled into this mess. but if your town was as much a mess as that. . . perhaps it was for the better.

“. . .then you’re planning to stay here, right?” he had his own opinions and thoughts of someone taking advantage of a high-powered lord taking them in, but eh, he thinks, people will do what they have to do to survive—

“not really. assuming nobunaga would even let me go in the first place.”

ieyasu stood there, stunned, “. . .you’re planning to go back to your own town? even from all the danger there?”

“yeah.” you look at him with a slight imbalanced expression, “i don’t have anywhere else to go, other than there, so. . .”

“but why not stay here? it’s safer, you do know that right?”

“of course,” you sigh, “but it’s still my home, all things considered. yeah, there’s a whole lot of corrupt things going on but, they’re still humans, the people i live with. i don’t wanna run away from it, i’d just. . .i’d like to try and help them also.:

ieyasu stays silent as you lean back to the wall, looking out the door with a fond and melancholic gaze, “the,,, guards in my town are doing this just cause of their stupid beliefs and whatever. superiority complex and whatnot. and people are dying because of it, only for things that they can’t control and. . . it’s just so bullshit.”

you turn back to him, with a strong light blaring in your eyes; filled with hope and determination, “wouldn’t you want to go back and help them? even if i get injured, as long as people will be treated the same and won’t face death for something miniscule, i consider it worth it.”

you’ve never seen him surprised at you; at least not in this sense. usually it’d be surprise at some mistake you did, making an offhand crude comment to it but here. . .here it’s partnered with the smallest bit of sparkle. like a hidden respect for you behind his uncaring persona.

you only look as he slowly stands up, his shadow befalling on you. with the same, yet subtle, amount of shine in his eyes as in yours, he sighs softly and takes your hand,

“at least if you’re gonna go into that kind of battlefield, let me teach your ditzy self how to take care of injuries first.”

—mitsunari:

your sudden arrival already aroused questions, as you’d appeared before nobunaga sporting a bloodied cut on your cheek. at the time, they took the assumption that the assassin did it to you.

and although it was fussed for a bit, it was quickly covered up with some cloth fitting for the period. and then, everything went as normal.

taking up job as mitsunari’s personal caretaker wasn’t one you’d reject, because really, how bad could it be? but the man himself kept insisting that you don’t, added that not only were you a special charm of nobunaga’s, you were also injured from the night of honno-ji. he couldn’t do that to you; not after such a stressful night.

and yet you were stubborn as well. with the final decision being up to nobunaga, which you accepted wholeheartedly, of course, you now had the role to take care of mitsunari.

although his. . .clumsy nature was one that you should be worried for, you find it that he often checks up on you, apologizing each time he could’ve potentially hurt you. and each time, you waved it off and assured him that yes, you were fine.

but you can see it in his eyes, the tint of guilt and worry that lingers on before he succumbs to his reading trance. truth is, the injury is just a mild inconvinience of pain, so there really wasn’t much to fuss over.

in his eyes, your degree has gotten much higher than before. whether your wound would’ve affected your job didn’t matter to him; it was the fact that you were hurt in the first place. you shouldn’t have to take care of him when you needed to take care of yourself! or so is what he thinks to himself.

and so he tries to make it up to you. you need reading lessons? he’ll try to squeeze it in his schedule! or maybe it’s time for a break, he’ll tour you around in the bustling city of azuchi. it feels like whenever you need something, he’s always there next to you, and you can’t help but feel charmed by it.

mitsunari isn’t one to notice details about a person if it isn’t in a situation like in battle. but he’s gotten very sharp at seeing the slight reactions and how you’re doing; and here’s what he’s picked up on:

other than the wound on your cheek, your stomach area seems to be bruised or something close to that. you might’ve not told anyone about it, cause he hasn’t heard a peep of that anywhere, not even when he kept asking politely (or bugging, in the man’s eyes) for ieyasu’s information.

so fuck it, he just decides to ask you one day.

“why do you have an injury on your stomach area?”

it was a lesson hour, you didn’t expect him to throw,,,that curveball. maybe more of, what does this character mean? or how do you write this word? but. . .

“uhm—an incident that happened before the whole honno-ji thing.”

“and you never told anyone, even lord ieyasu?”

“n, no, kinda.”

he’s serious than before, and yet there’s something in his eyes that’s very inviting, inviting you to tell your feelings and story, inviting you to a hug of warmth and safety.

and you succumb.

“. . . things have been happening in my town before i came here.” then what was once a lesson sessioin, turned into you explaining what you and the world was going through before coming to the sengoku, with many phrasings replaced of course.

“is that so. . .” he mutters, “i haven’t heard a case like this, although i don’t doubt there aren’t any. . .i should do some reasearches.. .”

“i-it’s fine, really. . .!”

you managed to convince him that it’s fiiine, he shouldn’t read up on it and just focus on his works (since it would render your story false pretty quickly,,).

“but you still haven’t explained how you got the injury.”

“oh yeah. i got kicked down by one of the guards and then i got this as a result.” you pointed at the covered up wound, now probably just a scar, on your cheek. mitsunari goes silent, then a slow and silent hum resonates in him.

you’ve never quite seen the look in his eyes as you did. they were sharper, even if you weren’t situated in a battlefield, and you could see the gears turn in his brain. for what, you’re not quite sure.

“mitsu,,,?”

and with just your voice, his clouded eyes clear up, and he sends his angelic smile your way, “it’s fine now, lady—” his voice rings gently like bells, “you’re now safer. .even if you want to go back there. but i’ll be here by your side to protect you always, so please remember.”

“. . .heh, alright. of course i will.”

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kats-cozy-corner · 5 years

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Kageyama x Reader: Pain and Priorities

I asked my dear @spacekwon for some help on Kageyama fic ideas. This is my first time writing for him!!! I hope I did my sweet blueberry boy some justice. <3

On a late summer afternoon, Kageyama Tobio stood with his back against the wall of Karasuno’s gym, drinking his milk box in content. On the team’s occasional breaks that happened more frequently in the warmer months, he always, without fail, sauntered over to the vending machines to grab his favorite drink. Even though Tsukishima would scowl at him and ask what normal human being drank milk on a hot day, it became a habit for him. Besides, at least he wouldn’t have to look at Tsukishima’s face for a few minutes.

Hinata was too busy ignoring Daichi and Coach Ukai’s words to take a break as he continued to spike the ball over the net, made apparent by the slams of it against the court and Hinata’s “gwah”s and “whoosh”es. Kageyama shook his head, but eventually let his mind wander. Though the day was hot, the sky was clear, and the air was fresh. All that and his milk were enough to make him feel at ease.

However, his musings went silent as a shriek rang in his ears. Not just one of his team’s shrieks.

His girlfriend’s.

“[Name]!” Kageyama yelled as he sprinted towards her, the milk box hitting the concrete behind him. She lay on the ground next to the gym’s entrance cradling her head and groaning. “What happened?!”

He lowered himself to his knees and held his arms out for her to hold onto. “I think a stray volleyball slammed against my head…” [Name] managed to mumble.

It didn’t take any further words to cause him to act. His gaze hardened as he answered her. “Stay still for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

[Name] knew what was coming without him even uttering another word.

“Tobio, don’t!”

The whole gym was frozen in panic partly because of [Name]’s sudden injury and partly because Kageyama walked into the gym with nothing but a silent fury burning on his face.

He didn’t ask any questions as he directed his steps at Hinata. “K-Kageyama?” Hinata stammered.

The setter kept his lips in a tight line.

“I-I didn’t hit, [Name]! I swear!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Kageyama barked. “You were the only one playing while everyone else was resting! You think I’m stupid enough to not hear you “gwah”ing in here?!”

“I didn’t--I--um--please d-d-on’t--kill me!!! Kageyama!!!”

“KAGEYAMA, WAIT!”

Right as Kageyama was mere inches from Hinata, Tanaka and Nishinoya’s exclamation stopped him. “What?” he seethed.

“Um...Shoyou didn’t...hit...her…”

“Yeah,” Tanaka said. “Nishinoya-san and I...accidentally hit the ball in her direction.”

The gym went silent.

"Kageyama…?"

Daichi and Sugawara shot each other a worried look. "Kageyama, it was an accident," the captain assured. "They didn't mean any harm to [Name]. Shouldn't you be making sure she's okay?"

Kageyama slowly turned away from Hinata who trembled as if he'd seen his life flash before his eyes. The team could only watch on as Kageyama's eyes locked onto the responsible party. Once he was riled up, there was no way he could be stopped.

"Hey, let's think this through," Sugawara calmed. "Is [Name] all right? Where exactly did she get hit?"

But their prodigy setter kept silent, approaching Nishinoya and Tanaka like a crow ready to devour the remains of its prey.

"Hey, man, we said it was an accident!"

"Ryu's right! We didn't mean it --"

"Tell me why that ball hit her," Kageyama demanded as he came to a stop, his gaze stone-cold.

"...We were trying to impress Kiyoko-san."

"Ryu and I had been working on a move...but it didn't go as we planned and the ball hit [Name]'s head."

Kageyama's eyes narrowed as his hands clenched at his sides. Someone's death was inevitable.

"Man, please don't kill us! Please--!"

The two shrieked as Kageyama grabbed their shirt collars. "Be careful of where that ball ends up, or worse is going to happen to both of you."

Then he retreated without another word.

“Holy crap,” Tanaka breathed. “I actually thought we were gonna die.”

“The King let his idiot subjects off the hook this time,” Tsukishima replied coolly, Yamaguchi stifling his laughter.

“Oy, what are you laughing at?! Our lives were on the line!”

“The fact that he was willing to spare you just shows how much Kageyama has [Name]’s interests in mind,” Daichi answered.

“Huh?”

“You know [Name] doesn’t like resorting to violence,” Sugawara said. “So Kageyama held himself back even though he was angry, because he didn’t want to upset her. You’re lucky he has her to be his impulse control.”

“Yeah…” the two answered.

“I guess Kageyama really has had a soft side to him all this time,” Daichi laughed with a hand on his hip. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“[Name] really is something.”

---

“Hold on, I’ll take you to the nurse’s office to get some ice.”

[Name] tried to stand, but Kageyama shuffled over and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? You just got hit in the head!”

“I did, but I’m not dying, Tobio.”

“You can’t walk over there like that.”

“Well, do you expect me to grow wings and fly over there--”

She halted her words when she watched Kageyama crouch on the ground beside her. When she stared at him, clearly confused, he simply answered, “Get on.”

“What?”

“Get on, I’ll carry you.”

“You’ll--Tobio!”

“What?”

“You can’t give me a piggyback ride to the nurse’s office!”

“Huh? Why are you refusing my help? Do you want me to leave you here holding your head?!”

“No, I just--”

“Why are you not cooperating--”

Kageyama silenced as he caught a glimpse of her rose-tinged cheeks. He bit his lip. “Oh...you’re embarrassed to go like that.”

“Oh, Tobio, I don’t mean it like that!” [Name]’s lips frowned at the sight of Kageyama avoiding her gaze, shame in his features. “I’m not embarrassed of you, I just...it just kind of makes my heart pound...and I don’t think I can look you in the eyes when I feel this way…”

Before she had time to object, Kageyama pulled her next to him and tucked his arms under her legs, hoisting himself to his feet. She shrieked and hurriedly clung to his shoulders, which resulted in a precious laugh out of Kageyama’s mouth.

[Name]’s face grew hotter at his sweet expression. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna let you fall. Let’s just get you fixed up, all right?”

She hummed in response before he adjusted his hold on her and started his trek. [Name] took the time to simply observe him. How some strands of his hair had grown long enough to start to cover his eyes. How his eyebrows knit together when he was determined and concerned. How he had a habit of scrunching his nose. She knew he didn’t have to do this for her, but Kageyama was a genuinely sweet person. People might describe him as a type of tsundere, but she knew sometimes his passion to excel clouded his perception. Tobio was much more than everyone painted him out to be.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Tobio,” [Name] whispered as she leaned against his head, her breath tickling his ears. “I’m sorry I’m making you miss practice.”

“It’s not a problem,” Kageyama answered. “Volleyball is important to me, but so are you. I’m not going to prioritize that over you.”

Tears formed in her eyes. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

[Name] smiled as she ran her hands through his hair. She closed her eyes in content, and any trace of pain she’d once had faded away.

#kageyama x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #kageyama tobio

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undignifiend · 4 years

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Trollhunters Fanfic AU idea: Heartstone Sun

A stupidly long ramble about themes I’m obsessed with. Warnings: mentions of people getting eaten, other horror elements, redemption speculation, and pontificating about hatred, dehumanizing propaganda, and the cycle of abuse (and an idea of how to break those three things). I’d love to write this if I can figure out how to do it justice, but that may take a while. Criticism is welcome; I can’t hone an idea to proper sharpness if I don’t see its dull spots.

What if the sun is actually a Heartstone - like The Great Gramma of all Heartstones (in this solar system, at least)? And was placed under an enchantment/curse by a prehistoric human coven that Had Enough because trolls outclassed humans in pretty much every arena, and people were getting eaten with impunity by extremely durable apex predators that laughed at their sticks and slings and fire? It's not like trolls really needed to eat humans - these mofos were powered by the sun (and could probably do crazy magic with all that excess power, to boot) - they just like how we taste.

Though perhaps humans also have a knack for passively absorbing Hearstone energies, and that's what they used to essentially poison the Heartstone against Trollkind? And that same passive absorption is why humans make good supplements for trolls who don't have a Heartstone to rely on, as shown in the comics? Since trolls couldn't gain Heartstone energy directly from the sun during the night, if they were injured and/or had a hankering, they'd have to eat creatures that still could. So maybe trolls tended to mostly eat people at night back then when they needed a quick boost because they couldn't get sunlight? And perhaps this contributed toward a more intense, visceral fear of the dark in humanity's evolution - like our common fear of the dark, but on steroids?

Gunmar's comment about "They try to make the night brighter. They fear the darkness," not only speaks to real human fears of the dark, but a mentality that was essentially beaten into Pleistocene-Era humans by impossibly strong and scary opponents (though I love the idea of some troll groups teaming up with humans and having various mutually-beneficial symbiotic shenanigans).

You could see all manner of behavioral, instinctive differences in these humans based on that. From a death-like, numbing paralysis intended to spare them the agony of their last moments, to an overwhelming itch to hide when it grows dark, to a need to sleep in groups for protection, etc... I imagine most beds in most cultures would be in hidden places within a house. Some cultures might even develop "false bedrooms" as traditional parts of their home to trick trolls or evil spirits that are more inclined to hunt with stealth.

This is partly inspired from a weird experience I had one night where I got this sudden, intense fear, and I've never experienced it since, and I still can't figure out what caused it. But some part of me felt a hostile presence in the woods by the house, and I knew it was far too powerful to fight, and I had the overwhelming urge to shut off all the lights, quiet everything that was making noise, and huddle in a closet until whatever it was passed. "Don't let it know you're here," kept playing in my head. I imagine being a human in this AU, especially in the Bad Old Days, would feel a lot like that.

After the Sun Curse (but before humanity regards trolls as myth), I imagine a common survival rule would be: Travel by day (when trolls can't, or at least have a harder time of it), and hide by night (so you don't run into them; if they find you, make them work for it, don't give yourself away).

Humans in this AU love to fancy themselves apex predators not simply as a power trip, but a denial of their true position in the food chain as prey. They can lie to themselves all they like, but their instincts remember and know better.

So to give humanity a fighting chance, this prehistoric coven developed a powerful spell to make the sun toxic to trolls, which would allow humans safety under the sun, which until then, had been a main source of power and sustenance for trollkind.

As an unforeseen catastrophe of apocalyptic proportions, much of trollkind's lore at the time was lost as they scrambled to deal with this development. Their cultures had to adapt, and new lore and methods of dealing with this catastrophe overtook lost histories (mostly verbal at the time). There was very little evidence left of how the sun was cursed, or that humans were behind it - the coven responsible did their utmost to destroy any sign or record of what they did, knowing that such information would rally trollkind against humankind. And even if trolls were weakened without their most sacred life source, they were still a dangerous enough threat that, if they could cooperate with each other, they'd surely wipe humanity out.

They almost succeeded in destroying all knowledge of it, but a certain tribe connected to a certain Heartstone found out, and their resulting fury at this act of desecration gave rise to Gunmar the Black.

This curse would be a deep source of anger and resentment at humanity for having stolen not only trollkind's ability to roam freely on their own world (which they were the dominant species on), but for poisoning a vital and sacred life-source. This is what Gunmar would be talking about when he talks about 'taking back the surface lands'. It's not just propaganda to him, it's his peoples' birthright, and it was stolen from them, and he emerged to set it right. This coven may have acted out of self-defense, but what they did was an unforgivable act of desecration. Gunmar and his Gumm-Gumms would still see it that way, but over time, as humanity loses their knowledge of trolls and turns their attentions toward each other, the rest of trollkind moves on and adapts and forgets their hatred, or their history of having once owned the world. The Gumm-Gumms are still angry about an ancient injustice, and the rest of trollkind, now believing themselves to have always lived underground, sees this 'take back the surface lands' talk as warmongering propaganda against a group that is seen as relatively ridiculous and tasty, but now off-limits depending on who follows the Pact.

While on that note, I imagine Gunmar would find the Pact outrageous and absurd. Humanity has no end to hold up in return, it's basically a heavy restriction on trolls who have already had so much taken from them. It's adding insult to injury, and that any troll would agree to it galls him to no end.

Before the curse, trolls ate fleshlings because we taste good and are satisfying sources of indirect Heartstone energy. Now, Gumm-Gumms also eat humans as an act of rebellion and punishment for what their ancestors did.

CHARACTER PROFILES:

JIM

I love Jim. But I think I'm going to handle him a bit differently in this AU than how he is in canon because I see an opportunity to say something important and relevant to a possible theme of this AU, and I'm not sure canon Jim would really be up for that.

I love the warm, nurturing, gentle side of Jim, and how he likes taking care of his friends. I love how he loves cooking for them, which is the quintessential nurturing act. I love how protective he is of his friends and his mom, and how even though he has made mistakes, he makes those mistakes with protective intentions. His heart's in the right place. This is the side of Jim who looks at Rule #2: Always Finish the Fight, and says "No," and spares Draal's life, and takes care of Chompsky instead of 'taking care of him', and risks precious time to go back for Nomura. This is the Jim I love, and the side of him I want to focus on in this AU.

And that side of him (it seems to me) clashes rather loudly with the other side of him that refuses to apply Rule #1 to Strickler in favor of rebellious mouthing-off, and treats the deaths of his enemies with sassy quips.

With regards to my attitude about that last part, I blame Faramir from Lord of the Rings. His brief monologue about 'the enemy' was formative for me. He fought to protect his people, and in doing so, he had to kill other people. And he didn’t hide from that fact. He had the strength and honesty to both do what he had to do, and to acknowledge that tragedy. He didn't try to diminish their deaths, and I cannot stress enough how important that is to me to see in a protagonist. So in this idea, Jim can be sassy in some cases, and he will kill if he believes he has to, but #2 is a last resort, and when it comes to that, he won't lie to himself or diminish what has happened.

Seeing someone as an obstacle or problem is a crucial step in making it easy to hurt or kill them, and it's one of the goals of particularly dangerous forms of propaganda: dehumanize the enemy. It's a perspective shift that makes fighting easier, but I believe it's one of the very worst lies we can ever tell ourselves or each other.

Acknowledging someone as a person, and not an obstacle or a problem, is (potentially) a powerful way to break the perception that you yourself are an obstacle or problem. If you want a chance to see someone’s relatability/"humanity", you first have to show yours. And they won’t always see it, and even if they do, they won’t always care – you might be hurt or killed anyway. But I think this re-framing is a crucial step in non-violent conflict resolution (in particularly intense cases). It’s risky as hell, so it’s not very popular, but when successful, it broadens perspectives and opens new paths in their minds. And I think that's a powerful and worthy theme; one that Jim could champion. A better way to Finish The Fight.

GUNMAR

In this AU, Gunmar has plans that stretch far beyond the Eternal Night (which, in this AU, would instead be a cure for the curse). From his perspective, he's trying to piece the world back together after several Apocalyptic-Grade Disasters. He's bitter and stressed, but he has stayed tenacious and ambitious despite millennia of warfare, failure, and being forgotten by the vast majority of the world while trapped in the Darklands. He's trying to lead his people out of a bad situation and restore their birthright, and he's annoyed and angry with the significant number of trolls who accept the current status quo when they could have so much more.

Because Gunmar emerged from a corrupted Heartstone and doesn't seem to have parents (perhaps no tribe/clan/colony? I love the extra-spooky supernatural vibe it grants him) I like the idea of him wanting his own tribe. He had a son whom he seemed to care for, and their regard for each other was the one and only thing in canon (in my mind) that elevated Gunmar. I'd like to capitalize on that in this AU. Gunmar was born tribeless, as a symbol of trollkind's general animosity toward humanity, but he obviously doesn't want to stay tribeless. He wants to establish his own line; he wants to create a future for his descendants to thrive in. His ultimate goal isn't so much about putting humans in their place as it is about giving his own people the prosperous future he thinks they deserve. To those who follow him, he's not their tyrant; he's their hero. His aggression is largely directed at humanity, but his goals are NOT human-centric after all.

Gunmar’s backstory (in canon) fascinates me. He was born from a Heartstone that had been transformed by the trollish population’s animosity toward humankind. I think this was supposed to reflect the classic Evil Corruption you see in a lot of fantasy, and leans on a kind of Victorian notion of "bad breeding" and the idea that because he emerged from evil conditions, he is evil by nature. But I think it’s more interesting to look at it as a wound, because that gives his anger a sharper sense of purpose that I think it otherwise lacks. Gunmar manifested from a rift between two populations, and has used the hatred that formed that wound to try and heal it – by taking the surface world and devouring the impudent humans who stole it. The method of devouring them didn’t simply develop because we taste good – it’s also a punishment, born of that same hatred, that says: “You thought you were better, but you are lesser. You wanted a vaunted place for yourself at great cost to us, but your true place is as nothing more than our food. This is what you deserve for trying to shut me and my kind out of our own world, and poisoning something sacred against us.” (referencing the curse on the Heartstone Sun, not the Killahead Banishment, which would come much later).

That may seem to him like a perfectly reasonable way to fix what he sees himself as (both literally and symbolically) born to fix. But even if all his dreams were to come true, that hatred would persist throughout the myriad abuses he would inflict upon humanity (if he’d bother to keep us around as livestock and/or slaves), and long outlast the last of the human population. It would linger, it would continue to fester, and it would be poised to be unleashed upon whatever other sufficiently threatening group crosses trollkind next. After all, that method ‘worked’ on humanity.

But you don’t quench hatred or fix abuse by indulging it. You fix it by learning (and accepting) the truth: no one is a mere obstacle, object, problem, or hated symbol. You did not deserve the abuses you suffered, but re-creating them and re-living them will not put you in control of them or absolve you in any way. (Though the temporary illusion of control may become addictive, it will remain fleeting and false). Abuse, if you let it define you, begets abuse. If Gunmar had achieved all his goals, sooner or later, he’d see his own reflection in a human born of the horrors he inflicted, and of the hatred humanity would have for him and his kind. This human would not see trollkind as anything other than a problem that they were born to solve, just as Gunmar sees humankind. But this would not surprise him at all, because that’s how Gunmar already thinks humans see trollkind. It’s easy to hate someone if you think they hate you. And it would not matter who would win that conflict, because the hatred and abuse would survive to be re-created and re-lived and inflicted on whoever the winner meets next. Nothing would be learned, and no one would heal.

I don’t know what would show Gunmar the truth, much less in a way that would matter to him. But in keeping with Jim's best tendencies in avoiding Rule #2, I think it's necessary for Jim to make the attempt in this AU. Whether or not this would result in Gunmar getting a redemption arc doesn't exactly matter - this is really about Jim's efforts to be the best guardian he can be for two interlinked worlds with a lot of bad blood between them, and I want to do those efforts justice. I don't currently know how, but I have some idea of where to start.

I think two key parts of non-violent conflict resolution are convincing the other party that 1) you care about the same thing they do, and 2) you either can make it easier to achieve, you see a better path to achieving it, or you may be able to improve the final outcome beyond what they originally thought or hoped was possible.

In this case, the goal for both sides is to heal that ancient wound between trollkind and humankind. It’s the plan that everybody disagrees about. Protagonists and antagonists (often, but not always) both ultimately want the same thing – they just disagree about what that’s supposed to look like, or how to achieve it.

Currently, I think that to truly heal, trolls and humans have to come to terms with each other. This is no small undertaking - it would change the world irrevocably - and might never be fully achieved, even after centuries of dedicated work on both sides. A healthy relationship (regardless of it’s nature) isn’t something you achieve and consider Done; it’s dynamic, it’s lived, it requires constant attention and respect, and the acknowledgment that it may change irrevocably as life throws its weird curve-balls. Most of all, it requires a dedicated effort to understand the other person. The surest way to kill a positive relationship is to allow oneself, during times of hardship, to slip into the mindset of seeing that person as an obstacle, problem, or symbol, rather than continue the effort of trying to understand them or why they’re acting difficult. And that’s just taking failing positive relationships into account. Consider all the hardship that comes from starting from a mindset of seeing people as obstacles or problems, and you could see hate-crimes between the populations. Now consider how many trolls and humans may interact with each other as they try to move forward together, and you can get some idea of how easily everything can fall apart, back into the same attitudes that led to the same wound that Gunmar manifested from.

And that’s not even touching on how trolls would have to watch their strength and their tempers around delicate little humans (even the ornery ones), and how humans would have to put a certain amount of trust, patience, and good faith in a group that was, in the past, known for eating them (and that still thinks they taste delicious). It will be easier for some than for others, but for those others, it may feel impossible.

I’m not saying it can’t be done. I believe it’s necessary and worthwhile. But I also believe it’s important to not downplay how difficult it would be. It would be stressful, it would come with times of crisis and doubt, and some might give up entirely, and it would be up to the rest to persevere despite the inevitable tragic incidents; to be brave, and not take such incidents as proof that peace is impossible. “Fear (if you don’t let it rule you) is but the precursor to valor.”

There would be hate-crimes (committed by both sides) between the groups. And there would be heroes (from both sides) rushing in to stop them. And there would also be vigils, gatherings of both humans and trolls, in honor of the victims who couldn’t be saved in time, and in solidarity, in honor of the peace they’re working for together. And I think, in that act of mourning and solidarity, therein lies their victory.

Love and grief are some of the most powerful, relatable (rather than ‘humanizing’ which is an embarrassingly ironic and limited word, especially in this context) emotions out there. And I think it’s that relatability that has the power to reveal people as more than obstacles or problems.

I doubt witnessing it would cause every Gumm-Gumm to reconsider their stance on humanity, much less Gunmar himself, but it could be a little step toward a better path; a seed of doubt – a check to keep them honest when they try to tell themselves tales of what humans and troll ‘traitors’ want, or deserve.

Another thing I imagine might challenge Gunmar’s perceptions has to do with the Decimaar blade. At first, I wasn’t sure what it’s supposed to symbolize in the show other than as an explanation for why anyone would follow someone so careless with their lives. It would also explain why no one assassinated him while he was weakened and starving in the Darklands. (Curiously, no one else seemed to be starving, and I’m not sure what to make of that. I think I missed something important.)

At first, I thought the Decimaar blade symbolized the ultimate hatred/abuse: it enslaves, it wipes out its victims' identities; it turns people into objects to be used by their master, and obstacles to be rid of by their enemies. There’s no loyalty involved, no sacrifice – nothing of meaning that is gained from willing service is preserved. It is simply the use of others – abuse made manifest. In that, I saw the Decimaar blade as an extension of Gunmar himself; a symptom of the conditions of his birth. The cruel irony here was that he had the power to turn his own people into the exact, flat, threatening (obstacles/problems) monsters humanity expected them to be. So from this, Gunmar wasn’t just born from trollkind’s hatred, but humanity’s, too. And just like with abuse un-dealt with, un-treated, he perpetuates it.

And then I learned that the Decimaar blade was won from Orlagk, so there goes that idea. Or at least the part of it being a part of Gunmar. But somehow now, I feel that helps it fit even better; I don’t currently think the Cycle of Abuse starts with Nature (in the whole Nurture vs Nature argument). I currently think abuse (in all it’s myriad forms, intentional or not) is inherited. Gunmar may have emerged from hateful conditions, and he may have inherited a direct metaphor for coercive abuse, and he may pass it on, but it’s not truly a part of him. Therein lies a little glimmer of hope that he might eventually see it for what it is - what it's doing to him and his people (who he was born to protect and provide for as a leader) - and reject Decimaar not only as a weapon, but as a way of thinking.

I'm a sucker for redemption arcs. I'm not sure I can give Gunmar one, or if I should even try. But I think in this, Jim has to make the effort to try to understand Gunmar and what he wants, and to convince him that there is a better way. Whether this version of Gunmar (eventually - I imagine it wouldn't come easy if it happens at all) takes him up on it or not, I don't know.

IF I go for it, though, I want to do it justice. Redemption is not about forgiveness or acquittal. Redemption is about climbing, no matter how far you’ve fallen, and even if you can never reach the top, you can still try to give others a boost along the way. Redemption (just like a relationship) isn’t achieved; it’s lived. And it doesn't necessarily mean joining the Good Guys. You won't see Gunmar Reformed agonizing about all the blood (human and trollish) he has spilled, or asking "Haven't I redeemed myself?" Gunmar Reformed (at least the way I'd hope to write him) may still have a great deal of contempt for humans in general, but he has learned enough about them that he can no longer see them in simplistic terms. He may privately think on What Could Have Been had he changed his perspective sooner, but he doesn't have the time or patience to dwell on regrets - the world is still hecked up, and he still has work to do (although the nature of that work has changed dramatically). I imagine if Gunmar changes his plans, he'll chase his new objectives his own way. The Trollhunters might have occasional, tenuous, scary, and unpredictable alliances with him when their goals align, but it might be a stretch to call them allies - a lot has happened, both sides are still angry with each other, but they've come to an understanding and have a degree of mutual respect, and can demonstrate enough good faith in one another to surprise each other. Gunmar will still have all his old ferocity, he'll just be channeling it in a new direction.

#Trollhunters fanfic AU idea #Heartstone Sun #theme talk

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lunasalix · 4 years

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As if the pandemic wasn't enough, my precious boy passed on today. It was no one's fault, just a series of horrible complications following his foot injury. My Facebook post (plus a small addition I didn't want to share there) is below:

I lost my sweet Mango this afternoon. After 6 months of fighting to save his foot following an injury, his heart gave out shortly after surgery. No words can do justice to how special this bird was, so I'll just tell his story and a few of his most endearing traits.

I got Mango from a pet store in Indiana shortly after starting my Master's degree there. At the time, I didn't realize those birds came from the avian version of a puppy mill, and I still have no clue how old he was. He was extremely timid and didn't know what toys were. I taught him to play. After 6 months, he was brave enough to take treats from my hand, but only if I stayed still. Another 6 months and he would sit on my head, preening my hair.

He lived with me in a one-room apartment for 2 years before we came back to Tennessee for good, where he and Peaches got their own room. He was never caged for more than a week, and only if I went out of town. As a result, he had some of the strongest wings the vet had seen. He was a magnificent flier.

His favorite activity was getting a shower with a spray bottle. It started when he saw me misting the geckos. He would come as close to me as he dared, puff out his feathers, and look longingly at the spray of water. One day, I moved back and he hopped right on the geckos' screen into the mist. It became a regular ritual after that.

*When he first came home with me, I noticed he was plucking himself. I fixed his husbandry and that reduced it, but never completely stopped it. He destroyed the follicles in his tail and parts of his neck, thus he never had a tail and always looked a bit patchy. The vet said it was an anxiety disorder. You may know that I have a similar problem, in which I pick at my face and pull my hair out. Mango took notice of this, and began flying to me every time he saw me do it because he knew I'd be still to let him sit near me. I like to think we healed each other.

He was so good natured that even through countless vet visits and all the prodding that comes with it, he never once bit anyone. He would snap furiously at the air, but if he could reach your hand, he'd only kiss it. After his injury, he had to be handled daily, sometimes multiple times per day for medications, foot washes, and bandaging. He got used to it quickly and rarely ever fought or raised complaint.

In his last few months, he had bonded strongly to me. He always begged to come out when he saw me, but not to fly or play, only to cuddle, kiss, and preen my hair. He always put himself up in his cage when he was finished and waited for his favorite muffin treat before bed. I'll miss our daily cuddles more than anything else. I'm thankful that, especially near the end, he knew that he was loved.

#lovebird #tw death #animal death #rip #saying goodbye to my friend #my pets

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dazebrasrecs · 4 years

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Fic Recs: James Flint/John Silver (Black Sails)

All individual fics are completed but not all series.

Any Port in a Storm by Farasha

Length: 51k / Rating: E / Genre: Drama / Warnings: BDSM, Dub-con, Imjury

Summary: The situation in Nassau has become complicated. The situation between Flint and Silver was always complicated.

Bathed by twofrontteethstillcrooked

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: injury

Summary: An itch had caused him to reach back to scratch. His fingers came away red as the pain shot like cannon fire across his shoulder.

Silver went pale as he rushed nearer. “You told me you weren’t injured.”

Flint shrugged. “I didn’t think I was.”

Silver seemed to be clenching his teeth hard enough to crack rock. His nostrils flared. “We should see to it before you head much further inland.” He sounded like someone Flint did not want to test on the matter.

Burning In It by PrimalScream

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: So this is based on hawkbi-pierce’s promt and she has graciously allowed me to take a stab at it. Hope I did it justice.

okay but please consider: James Flint and face sitting. where Flint has never sat on anyone’s face before because he’s a bit embarrassed by the idea because it seems rude, and Silver practically begging Flint to sit on his face. please consider Flint losing his composure and being loud. please consider this in light of last season’s facial hair developments and the beard burn that would result

By the Oath River. by Craftnarok

Length: 8k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: In the wake of their victory against Governor Rogers' forces, Silver suspects he knows the best way to bring Flint down from the bloodlust of the battle, and he could do with some release himself, so he sets about giving them both what they need.

Force of Nature by zelda_zee

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: After their reprieve from certain death, Silver's rapport with his captain shifts in a way he did not foresee.

Hey Jealousy by PrimalScream

Length: 3k / Rating: M / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: No definitive time line, but set sometime in the near future, shortly after they become lovers. Silver isn't all that fond of the new crew member, but that's between he and himself, or is it? “

You don’t need to worry about Havers, he’s got nothing I want, he can’t hold a candle to you, or to this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.

”“Don’t you? You’ve been glaring daggers at the man since he came aboard two days ago.”

His Love of Books by Magnetism_bind

Length: 3k / Rating: T / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Silver starts bringing Flint books.

I Hold a Beast, an Angel, and a Madman in Me. by Craftnarok

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: Angst/AU / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Mod!AU. Silver is coming to terms with the loss of his leg, and Flint is trying to help him, but he's finding Silver's lack of self-care troubling. Starts a little angsty, but it gets happier, I promise.

I know you like what's on my mind by PrimalScream

Length: 3k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: S1ish - Straight up porn for porn's sake

I know you really want to move me, you know I'd like to see you try by PrimalScream

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: The one in which Silver likes to touch things that aren’t his….yet

“Who else could I have possibly been thinking about after what you’ve been doing this last month? You’re a fucking tease.

”“And whose fault is that? I made myself perfectly clear. You could have had me weeks ago, but you’re too fucking stubborn to take what’s right in front of you. ”

Immaculate dream made of breath and skin by PrimalScream

Length: 22k / Rating: E / Genre: AU/Romance / Warnings: sex work, daddy kink

Summary: James had gone looking for something different and he sure as fuck found it.

The Kissing!Verse by Magnetism_bind

Length: 25k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance / Warnings: BDSM

Summary: Silver's led to believe the crew all take their turns pacifying the captain, which leads to misunderstandings, unwanted arousals, and pining until he comes up with a way to get what he wants.

Lease Agreement series by twofrontteethstillcrooked

Length: 24k / Rating: E / Genre: AU/Romance/Humor / Warnings: minor violence

Summary: Lonely homeowner James Flint meets renter John Silver, and questionable meals follow.

let us possess one world by vowelinthug

Length: 8k / Rating: E / Genre: Hurt/Comfort / Warnings: past child abuse

Summary: They return to Nassau after their defeat of the British Navy, only to be met by Agitator Billy and his propaganda machine. This is why Captain Flint tries not to let other people decide things.

In which: Flint wears a disguise, Silver tells a terrible story, one bathes the other, and only one man died the whole night which is, like, definitely a record for them.

memories you bury or live by by mapped

Length: 4k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Silver has never ridden a horse before. Flint asks Silver to ride with him. One thing leads to another.

Never Let Me Go by 13thDoctor, JHarkness

Length: 28k / Rating: E / Genre: Humor / Warnings: Violence, homophobia

Summary: When Captain Flint arrives in Nassau with a ring on his hand, the island's inhabitants and the Walrus' crew are left to wonder who the unfortunate dame might be. Meanwhile, John Silver is enjoying the married life as well as reaping the benefits of his superstitious crew's bets.

Open it up tonight the devil can ride by PrimalScream

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Set in the past, early S2. They’re still on Nassau. The one in which Silver gets exactly what he asked for. “Has it been so long since someone has wanted you, just you the man, and not what you could do for them, that you don’t remember how it feels to be wanted? There’s no grand plan here. No scheme I’m aiming for. Maybe someday I’ll want into your head, but today, right now, I just want your body, your hands, your cock. I just want you.”

The Pirate Captain's Wedding by Magnetism_bind

Length: 25k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance / Warnings: BDSM

Summary: Once he has his hands on the thief Flint is willing to do whatever it takes to get the page from him. And then Billy & Gates say marriage is the only solution left on the table. Or rather matelotage – the time honored pirate form of matrimony. Billy says it’s the only way to regain the crew’s trust, by marrying one of them, and Gates agrees. For once Flint’s desperate enough to agree to it. He never expects to actually fall in love with the little shit.

Seedlings by twofrontteethstillcrooked

Length: 23k / Rating: E / Genre: AU/Angst/Humor / Warnings: N/A

Summary: "If there's anything I can help you with, or if you'd like to order flowers for an upcoming occasion--"

"All right, honestly?" Handsomely disgruntled customer looked Silver dead in the eye and said, "I'm looking for a gift that says, 'You are making a dreadful mistake. Call me when you've figured out what a fucking hash of things you've made.'" He spoke the way some people chewed tinfoil.

Silver felt two things: lust like a plague of locusts, and the words 'uh-oh' waft through his brain.

The SilverFlint Mixtape. Vol 1 and Vol 2 by vowelinthug

Length: 20k / Rating: M / Genre: Hurt/Comfort/PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: fics originally posted to tumblr for H/C dialogue prompts

Strike like a match on my skin by PrimalScream

Length: 5k / Rating: E / Genre: PWP / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Sometime in S2 on the warship. I just needed a reason for Silver to be a huge tease.

To Sleep Perchance to Dream by Craftnarok

Length: 8k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: John Silver has never been a good sleeper, waking up at the slightest disturbance, and it's particularly tricky on a ship crammed full of noisy men. It turns out that difficulty sleeping is something else he has in common with Flint. This is what happens when his inability to sleep sends him wandering the ship two nights in a row.

Until death it is all life. by Craftnarok

Length: 12k / Rating: E / Genre: Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Ever since Flint told Silver about Thomas he hasn't been able to stop imagining Flint with another man. But then that turns into him imagining Flint with him, and it's only been a few days, but Silver thinks he might be about to lose his mind. So he has to do something about it.

we pull apart the dark, compete against the stars by mapped

Length: 7k / Rating: E / Genre: Drama / Warnings: N/A

Summary: After Silver learns about Thomas Hamilton, he cannot stop thinking about that man and what he means to Flint. He knows that he wants Flint, but how can Flint want him back when he's nothing like this man that Flint speaks of with such undisguised adoration?

you are the queen and i am the wolf by vowelinthug

Length: 10k / Rating: E / Genre: Humor / Warnings: N/A

Summary: They call him John the Giant. Flint calls himself James the Early Risk for Heart Failure.

Your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea by PrimalScream

Length: 7k / Rating: E / Genre: AU/Romance / Warnings: N/A

Summary: Matelotage. Like that was going to secure the safety of any crew. Like that would guarantee loyalty. James understands that there's a problem, but surely there has to be another way.

Your Hips, Your Lips, Your Skin On Mine and sequel This Year's Love by Magnetism_bind

Length: 9k / Rating: E / Genre: AU/Romance / Warnings: ableism

Summary: Flint's model cancels on him for his last class of the semester. Fortunately Max has a friend who might be able to step in. Everything seems fine and dandy until Flint sets eyes on the model.

#black sails #fic rec #silverflint #james flint #john silver

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kdramacollections · 5 years

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CHEESE IN THE TRAP

This drama had a ton of mixed reviews after it finished airing, and while I understand the opinions of the viewers, I happen to like Cheese in the Trap. I’m also currently reading the webtoon, and I’m enjoying every bit of it.

Cheese in the Trap depicts how individuals react to relationships and the different situations that they might find themselves in. I think this drama will open your eyes to certain things, and so you might find yourself analyzing the behavior of those around you.

The drama opens up by introducing us to the main female lead Hong Seol, who has returned to school after taking some time off. Seol’s return is masked by a department dinner, and so not much attention is on her, even though her friends welcome her warmly.

Seol’s return is overshadowed by her senior Yoo Jung who has also returned to school. During this scene, everything seems to be going rather slowly, but then Cheese in the Trap utilizes frequent flashback scenes and so we begin to learn more about Seol and Jung’s history.

We also get to learn the many reasons behind Seol taking time off school, but one such reason that we’re constantly being reminded of, is that of her financial situation. Seol’s family isn’t well off, and so she works part-time to help with her many expenses.

Suddenly, a scholarship falls into her lap, and so her tuition problem is now solved. However, Seol is the type of person who constantly overthinks, and so she begins to wonder how she bested Jung to the scholarship.

At this point in the drama, it seems that Jung has taken a liking to Seol, the mysterious senior constantly shows up out of the blue, so he can ask Seol to join him for a meal. It does annoy Seol, however she begins to once more question everything.

Jung does manage to get onto Seol’s good-side, and so the two begin to develop into something more. This much begins to be a bit stressful for Seol, as she now has to balance a relationship, her part-time job, school, and the pressure of being with a popular senior.

Cheese in the Trap gives us many scenes which provides an insight into Jung’s personality. The drama takes another turn when it introduces one character who knows Jung all too well. Baek In Ho tumbles in Seol’s life, and she ends up growing a bit closer to him.

Initially Baek In Ho had no interest in Seol and Jung’s relationship, however he convinced himself that Seol needs to be protected from Jung, and the more time he spent with her, the more he began to develop feelings for her.

Baek In Ho and Yoo Jung both seem to hate each other, and as the audience you’ll begin to wonder why. Their history is then brought to us through a flashback scene, and from then you might begin to root for Baek In Ho even more.

On the other hand, one would say that Jung’s previous manipulations were done to protect Seol, and give her the justice she deserves. However, you’ll then ask yourself if Jung is truly dangerous, and if Seol is even safe with him.

One of the main reasons why Jung pursued Seol, was due to the fact that he believes Seol “gets” him. Jung thinks that Seol understands everything that goes on his head, and so he begins to open up to her little by little.

It’s obvious that Seol tries to understand Jung to some extent, however the many questions, and doubts still remain. If you take a closer look at their relationship, you’ll begin to realize that Seol got caught into a trap, and it doesn’t seem like she’s about to escape any time soon.

As aforementioned, the mixed reviews that this drama received, divided those who watched from beginning to end. The closing scenes might not be what most viewers expected, however from Seol’s small action, we see where she is still caught up in everything Jung-related, and it seems that she hasn’t really escaped the hold he has over her.

Park Hae Jin plays the character of Yoo Jung, a university student who seems to exhibit some tendencies which results in him being misunderstood by many. Yoo Jung has never showed any interest in the girls around him, however he takes a liking to Hong Seol. Park Hae Jin has had his fair share of on-screen projects, so go ahead and check him out in the drama Man to Man, and if you prefer to watch a shortened version of this drama, Park Hae Jin also stars in the movie remake of the same name.

Kim Go Eun plays the character of Hong Seol, a girl who has too many thoughts on her mind, and too little time for everyone’s drama. Seol is convinced that nothing good will come from being friends with Yoo Jung, however she ends up developing deep feelings for him. Kim Go Eun is no stranger to the screen, and so you can find her in the drama, Goblin, and the movie Hit-and-Run Squad.

Seo Kang Joon plays the character of Baek In ho, a talented pianist who has no choice but to stop playing, due to injuries to his hands. Despite his life being in shambles, Baek In Ho is warm, helpful, and friendly to those around him. Seo Kang Joon has participated in many dramas, so go ahead and check him out in Are You Human? and The Third Charm.

Cheese in the Trap was directed by Lee Yoon Jung who also worked on Heart to Heart, and Argon. Soon Ggi is the author of the webtoon, and Kim Nam Hee is the screenwriter for the drama. Kim’s previous works include Stairway to Heaven, and Tree of Heaven.

Kim Go Eun was awarded Best New Actress at the 2016 (52nd) BaekSang Arts Awards.

Plot: 5/5 Cinematography: 5/5 Acting: 5/5 Total: 15/15

(Credits to the owners of the pictures, I took them from onehallyu, asianwiki, kpopherald, and koreaherald)

#kdrama #kdrama review #cheese in the trap #kim go eun #park hae jin #seo kang joon #nam joo hyuk #lee sung kyung

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xexilia · 4 years

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I notice when you do your comics, it applies a certain level of toner. I ended up deciding on the route of using paint brush india ink, and charcoal for toner instead. Does this aesthetic difference change the marketability of graphic novel, compared to just using toner? In the context of the prologue in this web comic, it is used to denote a fog atmosphere. In the upcoming chapter, I might use it for graveyard fog.

I think first I need to establish that what you mean by “toner” is “shading”?

I do use tones, but tonER is the stuff used in and by physical printers. Print tones refer to the dots, lines, etc. that are present in the majority of my work and that Roy Lichtenstein emulated in his paintings. Tones are dots because that’s how printers print; Thousands of dots. The closer together, the more solid the shade or color is. I’m not trying to correct you on terms, but knowing this difference will help you later because I promise, if you buy toner online and expect to get tones, you’ll be disappointed by what arrives in the mail!

So, I think you’re falling into a common trap webcomic artists make in the beginning, which is focusing on the wrong parts of the project. You asked me if this changes marketability; But you didn’t tell me:

What medium do you want to publish in? Do you want to ONLY have your comics online, or do you want to print them?

Who is your target audience and age group?

Do you want to sell or profit off your webcomic?

The first question is important because far too often, webcomic artists design for the web/screens first, foremost, and only; Later, they decide to print a book, and this is when all hell breaks loose. Lots of media (Charcole, watercolors, etc.—media is the art term for materials) can look both better OR WORSE on a screen—this is where technology comes into play, like the scanner you have, the DPI (dots per inch) its able to scan things in at, and the size of scannable area. A lot of my favorite media and mediums (I like pencil on paper), are really delicate drawings—and like a lot of artists who favor these materials, scanners just never seem to do them justice. Lots of fine artists I talk to admit that they feel their work looks best in person, and no matter how high the quality scanner, small, delicate details get lost. Part of it can be a cheap scanner, the wrong DPI setting, but the other part can be the wrong medium (That’s the term for things like canvas or paper), or the wrong SIZE medium.

Size matters; Both in terms of the scanner surface area AND the size of your medium. A lot of people (And I did this myself for a lot of the first book), work on standard size paper—8.5 by 11 inches; But professional artists, print or not, are always better off to work at a LARGER size than the end result will be. When I printed my book, I didn’t come out too terribly for the size I worked in, because manga book page sizes are smaller than their American counter parts. I also knew I planned to print from the first page onward, so everything was designed for print first and web second—this is much easier and less time consuming to do than the reverse, because a lot of print errors can occur that don’t appear on screens—and literally can’t—and can take hours, days, weeks or more to fix, depending on how bad and common the issue is and how many of your pages have this problem. A big one is called moire, which DOES NOT show up on screens; This happens when an artist applies on tone directly over another. Because most of us work digitally these days, it’s even easier for artists to start doing this and not realize the consequence until you print a book. . .and discover all places where tones overlap create this weird square pattern within them—which is called moire. This is why it’s critical to use separate tones for different shades and such, because unlike solid color printing, you cannot overlay tones like you would layers in Photoshop or other such programs. Ignore this at your peril!

My first suggestion before you go to far is; Of you want to ever, EVER print this, print out a copy of a page at home. Even if you’re happy with it, consider how you may be printing or mass producing these things; If you’re going to make them via a copier at Kinko’s, take a page down to a copier at Kinko’s and see what quality you get. If you don’t like it at full size to the ratio you worked in (In other words, printing on the same size paper you created it on), you can get some improvement by using smaller pages—but going UP in page size will cause quality to drop. I now work on paper—digital or not—that’s always 11 by 17 inches AT LEAST. For anything I make, I try to work in a size 3 to 4 times larger than the end result will be.

When I first began, I made my comics with a copier at Kinko’s, and discovered while my ink wash method looked good, it looked better with color printing; Color printing is ALWAYS more expensive, hence why when digital comic creation tools (Like Clip Studio) got invented, I was an instant convert! It saved a lot of time and money (Tones and such are all expensive), the environment (No trees died for my drawings), effort (Tones are REALLY tricky to work with by hand), and it’s no wonder that manga artists now are nearly ALL working digitally.

Also, for the disabled (Like me), digital allows us to work from beds, at home, etc. instead of in front of a desk, all hunched over. I don’t accidentally smudge ink, my cat doesn’t drink my ink (Yes, it’s a thing cats do!), and if I mess up, the power of Undo/Redo/Copy/Paste/Transform CANNOT be understated. I’ve mentioned it before, but I believe in working smarter, NOT harder. This is why I draw out a lot of backgrounds (Which you can’t see on the free copies online, but you can if you buy a physical copy or the Amazon eBook), separately, and I can just drag and drop them around as I need. That way, I can focus on drawing the characters and not on drawing a giant cathedral for every damn appearance it makes or scene change I do.

As for marketability; A lot of this depends on your target audience and age group. Even so, people tend to grow to like something even if it may be atypical of the general stuff they like. I’m generally not a fan of shoujo-ai—but many of my favorite anime and manga ARE in this genre! Turns out, if the story is good, I don’t care about the sexuality of the characters!

A lot of people expect or want color comics these days though, which is odd to me, since the manga produced in Japan is in black and white (Color printing is expensive—even for a major publishing company!) People still read it, and those who expect an artist to make a free webcomic with color pages and update several times a week or month aren’t aware of the time, effort, or consequences. Generally; No, they will NOT buy a book they’ve read for free online (As much as people love to say to support us creators, they rarely actually do), and they damn sure won’t pay for the extra cost of color printing. If you want to see the difference, check out Ka-Blam comic printers and do a price comparison between printing pages in color versus black and white.

Yes, there are people who do a Kickstarter and such and get these funds up front; They are exceptions, not the rules. Consider them—and most artists who make comics or art they make of their own choosing (Not commissions, but only originals), the same as you might someone who plays a sport and decides that they are GOING to play professionally for some orginazation or team—which is, they are counting on being in this LESS THAN 1% of their field. Yes, some people pull it off; The vast majority don’t—and skill isn’t the biggest factor in the end. Just like an athlete with all the promise in the world can have their career ended before it’s begun by an injury that never heals right, art itself is a career path with MANY hidden pitfalls and problems—and health is a major one. Too many of us don’t eat right, don’t exercise our bodies and minds, and so on; It adds up. I personally really recommend a diet with a caloric/carb intake ratio that works within your activity levels; In other words, if you’re determined not to work out (Which—don’t make this mistake), you can’t eat as much as you’d like—not only will you gain weight, but it impacts your health health, your blood sugar—it can be a recipe for an early, but preventable, grave or a LOT of suffering that could be avoided. I try to jog at least two miles a day, meditate daily, and really put my health as the main focus in my life—even before my art. I can’t draw anything or write more stories if I’m dead, after all, and I can’t produce my best work if I’m not in the best condition I can manage. With an autoimmune disease, there’s only so much I can do or control and I’m often still very sick and in a lot of pain; But I still do all I can to run or walk two miles—at least, and even if it takes me an hour or more—and to keep my heart rate at 120 beats per min. when I do. There’s a lot of days where this is about the ONLY thing I can manage and where my pain is so bad I cry and cry—because right now I don’t have a lot of means of relief; This doesn’t happen to everyone, but it means that health—no matter what you do in life—can make or break you at times. Audiences aren’t always understanding of these circumstances and yes, ones career can dry up as a result. Just because someone manages to play for the sports team of their dreams doesn’t mean their health can’t or won’t turn on them, or a serious injury will end their career; We do not live in a world where people will continue to support you because of a series of or singular unfortunate event.

This brings me to the last point, which is if you plan to sell or profit off your work; We all want to, but often making sales can come at the cost of producing something that we, as the creators, really love or are passionate about. I decided from the jump that, while profiting was nice, I’d much rather make the title I wanted to make rather than the one that sells the most copies; If I were concerned with it, trust me, Eternity Concepts would be a wildly different story, with different art, etc. I’d have written a formulaic story that was entirely predictable and changed so many aspects, you’d never recognize it; Manga fans tend to be teens, so I’d have made the cast all teenagers! It’d be set in school! Someone might magically transform to fight evil or some such thing.

I didn’t want that; If you do, there’s no shame in that, but audiences will keep buying and reading what we keep producing, and if we’re too afraid to take a risk on a chance that our story won’t make a dime—because making a dime is the most important part for you—then we can’t be surprised when it’s what people keep buying—because we aren’t even attempting to sell anything else.

Publishing houses (With novels and such) can be really guilty of pushing for changes based on market research; The thing is, the research is often based off past sales of what’s already in the market. Plenty of novels that became classics and best sellers got rejected for years and years until a publishing company was willing to take a chance and discovered that people can, will, and do enjoy new and different things. They might also do market focus group testing—but these are small sample sizes of average people—and your audience may NOT be average people.

All creative pursuits involve risks, at the end of the day; You just have to decide what rewards you want or are willing to sacrifice if you take them.

As for aesthetics, there’s no accounting for taste and I’ve seen plenty of paintings I hated sell for insane amounts of money, plenty of art styles I hated become popular titles, etc.

I will say this; When I, PERSONALLY, see a comic with tones or color, usually that’s digitally produced (It cuts out the need for a scanner!), it looks to me like it’s professionally made—by someone who is on their way or already at such a level.

While a lot of newer artists try to make do with other materials, again, the world is not a kind place and making do is just that—making do. Yes, there are a million and one reasons why one can’t get their hands on better or more professional materials—but sadly, people don’t want to hear excuses, and many successful artists got their tools by working jobs they hated, saving up, living in their cars—making major sacrifices to get to where they are now. There’s no easy road or shortcuts to the end; Yes, I do, sadly, think the mixed media approach you’re trying won’t be favorable towards your marketability—but I could always be wrong (Look at how many MS Paint comics made it big!) There’s a first time for everything.

Comics, though, is also about production speed, and traditional materials can come at the cost of working quicker. I’m a big fan of suggesting people save and wait and invest (And it IS an investment) in serious materials and tools if they wish to be seen and taken as seriously; This means making sacrifices and at the end of the day, plenty of people still won’t like what you make, no matter what tools you have or plot you employ. The person who NEEDS to like it most? . . .Is only you.

You cannot please all of the people all of the time, and the faster you accept that, the happier you’ll be with what you make.

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dwindledglow · 4 years

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001. MEET JORDAN

FULL NAME: jordan kade thompson. PREFERRED NAME: jordan. NICKNAME/S: jord and jordie. DATE OF BIRTH: december 17th, 1993. GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis male & he/his. ORIENTATION: hetero. RELIGION: atheist. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married to alice thompson. OCCUPATION: music producer, songwriter and entrepreneur. RESIDENCE: in between soho, new york city and sag harbor, suffolk county.

002. CHECK JORDAN’S BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: tallahassee, florida. NATIONALITY: american. ETHNIC BACKGROUND: afro-american. LINGUISTICS: english which is his native language and spanish and french in a fluent level. EDUCATION: he has graduated from high-school and attended cuny's john jay college of criminal justice where he did two years of criminology and criminal justice before having to drop out due to financial difficulties. CRIMINAL RECORD: clean. BIRTH ORDER: third. FATHER: tyler dajan brown, born on april 30th, 1965 in baltimore, maryland. his whereabouts, as well as living situation, are unknown to jordan but last he heard, he worked as a record store clerk in atlantic city, new jersey. MOTHER: nora jada thompson, born on august 4th, 1968 in st. petersburg, florida, currently residing in sagaponack, suffolk county. she is the owner of four restaurants - wabi-sabi, a japanese cuisine place in soho, new york city, 1946 house, a contemporary french-american cuisine place in miami beach, florida, magari, an italian cuisine place in dumbo, brooklyn and scusi, an italian cuisine restaurant in miami, florida. SISTER/S: alexandra kalla thompson, born on january 7th, 1999 in philadelphia, pennsylvania, currently residing in new york and working as a model and professional dancer. BROTHER/S: william bakari thompson, born on july 1st, 1987 in tallahassee, florida, currently residing in new york city and working as a personal trainer. carter kaluuya thompson, born on may 21st, 1991 in tallahassee, florida, currently residing in new york city and working as a publicist. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: alice thompson, née cooper. CHILDREN: maya anne thompson, born on october 19th, 2018 in southampton, new york. ivy ayana thompson, born on november 8th, 2019 in southampton, new york. OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: amani robins thompson, née white, william’s wife thus sister-in-law. monique byers-thompson, carter’s wife thus sister-in-law. jada niaara thompson, carter & monique’s daughter, niece. bryson alexander hill, alexandra’s fiancé thus brother-in-law. apollo kade hill, alexandra & bryson’s son, nephew. EX/ES: isobel powell and jessica loyle. PETS: kovu and kopa, two pomskys and cookie, a pug.

003. GET UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

HEIGHT: 6′3″ or 192 cm. WEIGHT: between 177 lbs or 80 kg and 181 lbs or 82 kg. BODY BUILD: jordan has what's considered the ideal weight for his height. he has a fast metabolism so albeit not upkeeping any kind of strict diet or following a specific eating plan, it's hard for him to put on much weight. up until a few years ago — five or six — and following how he stopped regularly exercising / playing basketball, he had a, somewhat, thin figure but ever since he started working out again, he has managed to get some lean muscle. overall, he has a toned body with defined abs and muscular arms. EYE COLOR: dark, earthy brown. EYESIGHT: his eyesight has no problems. HAIR COLOR & STYLE: when the topic in question regards personal style, it's hard to describe jordan's seeing as it is ever-changing. he has dreads and, most of the time, that's the extent he'll go to with his hairstyle. every so often, he'll get tired of having his hair down and he'll go for pigtails — which is one of his favorites hair styles — or a ponytail. when he wants his hair completely out of his way, he'll section his hair and part it in two cornrows and on the rare, he wears half of his hair up and the other half down. DOMINANT HAND: right. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: the most notable physical trait is, without a doubt, the unusual birthmark on his cheek. besides it, and despite not doing it nearly as often ( unless he's around people he loves ), his smile / laugh are another thing that distinguishes him. there's also his towering frame, his ever-changing hair styles and his chiselled features on top of it. SCARS AND MARKS: asides from your every day, average scars here and there, jordan has a two larger and notable ones : the first on the underside of his right arm courtesy of breaking his arm when he was a kid and the second on his left knee, the result of a surgery he had to be submitted to due to an injury he made when he used to play basketball. he has a distinguishing birthmark on his cheek but, other than that, and sans a few moles here and there, jordan has no other relevant marks. TATTOOS: he has the quote on your own and for yourself in morse code tattooed around his right wrist — reference —, a reminder to keep going, no matter what might happen in his life; on his left wrist, he has a W — reference — which is the initial of his older brother's name; he has the outline of new york's skyline, in white ink, tattooed on the inside of his right arm — reference. on the back of his left arm, he has the geographic coordinates to alexandra's — his younger sister — and jada's — his niece — birth places — reference. on his left ankle, he has excelsior tattooed in bold font, new york city's motto. on his ribcage, a little below his left pectoral, he has the sound wave of his mother saying i love you tattooed. there's the word saudara — meaning brother in indonesian and which he got along with his brother carter — on the right side of his ribcage. he has the quote to new memories tattooed on the inside of his left arm — reference — something he got shortly after he moved to bali. he has the word clarity on small, uppercase font on the right side his neck. on the back of his right upper arm, he has two hands — reference. he has the word power on the back of his left hand. there's the quote self consciousness is heavy along his right hip. on his left collarbone, he has the quote dum spiro spero which translates into while i breathe, i hope and on his right collarbone, he has the quote esse quam videri which translates into to be, rather than to seem. he has the quote and still i rise in bold, uppercase and small font on the back of his neck. on the back of his left ankle he has the word tallahassee in uppercase and bold font, representing the city he was born, and on the back of his right ankle, also in bold font, he has 1993, the year he was born in. for his and ally’s daughters, on the inside of his upper right arm, he has maya shaped to form a heart and, likewise, ivy on the inside of his upper left arm. additionally, he has the sentence ten planes in cursive, recalling when alice and him first started dating and he mentioned how he’d fly ten planes for her. PIERCINGS: he has two piercings on his left regular lobe. VOICECLAIM: daniel caesar. ACCENT & INTENSITY: jordan's accent is somewhat of a hybrid thing — it's not a strong and prominent new york accent but it's also not the closest to a philadelphia accent. growing up and just as he moved to new york, it was easy to place how there was a philly accent to his way of speaking... slowly but surely, it started to fade away and nowadays, he has more of a faint new york accent. ALLERGIES: none that he knows of. PHOBIAS & FEARS: trypophobia. MENTAL & PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: none so far. ALCOHOL USE: sometimes, mostly on social situations. SMOKING: yes, he’s been trying to reduce it but he still does smoke. NARCOTICS USE: if he's in the studio, completely stressed out and needing a way to get creativity flowing, he does smoke weed. INDULGENT FOOD: not very often. SPLURGE SPENDING: yes, sometimes. GAMBLING: no, never.

004. DIG DEEPER

CAN THEY DRIVE? yes, he can drive. CAN THEY COOK & BAKE? yes and yes. CAN THEY CHANGE A FLAT TIRE? yes. CAN THEY TIE A TIE? yes. CAN THEY SWIM? yes. CAN THEY RIDE A BICYCLE? yes. CAN THEY JUMP START A CAR? yes. CAN THEY BRAID HAIR? yes. CAN THEY PICK A LOCK? yes. EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED? extroverted. DISORGANIZED OR ORGANIZED? organized. CLOSE OR OPEN MINDED? open minded. CALM OR ANXIOUS? calm. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? patient. OUTSPOKEN OR RESERVED? outspoken. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? leader, but willing to listen to others and compromise. OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC? in-between. TRADITIONAL OR MODERN? modern. HARD-WORKING OR LAZY? hard-working. CULTURED OR UNCULTURED? cultured. LOYAL OR DISLOYAL? loyal. FAITHFUL OR UNFAITHFUL? faithful. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD? a mixture of both depending on the days. HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER? not heavy, nor light. an in-between. COFFEE OR TEA? coffee. DAY OR NIGHT? night. TAKING BATHS OR SHOWERS? showers. COCA COLA OR PEPSI? coca-cola. CATS OR DOGS? dogs. NETFLIX OR CINEMA? cinema. SHOWS OR MOVIES? movies. LAPTOP OR GAMING CONSOLE? laptop. HEALTHY OR JUNK FOOD? healthy food. ICE CREAM OR FROZEN YOGURT? ice cream. PIZZA OR HAMBURGER? hamburger. LOLLIPOPS OR GUMMY WORMS? gummy worms. BEACH OR POOL? beach. SNOWBALLS FIGHTING OR ICESKATING? both. LITERATURE OR SCIENCE? literature. HISTORY OR ART? art. CHOCOLATE BARS OR COTTON CANDY? cotton candy. XBOX OR PLAYSTATION? playstation. FACE-TO-FACE OR PHONE INTERACTIONS? face-to-face interactions. DRAMA OR SCI-FI? drama. HORROR OR COMEDY? both.

005. JORDAN’S FAVORITES

FAVORITE ACTIVITY: songwriting. FAVORITE ANIMAL: panther. FAVORITE BOOK: he has no favorite book so far. FAVORITE COLOR/S: orange and blue. FAVORITE CUISINE: thai. FAVORITE DISH/ES: jollof rice, khao soi, nasi goreng and yum woon sen. FAVORITE DRINK/S: coffee, limeade and thai tea, patron and hennessy. FAVORITE FLOWER/S: chocolate cosmos. FAVORITE GEM: topaz. FAVORITE MOVIE: fences by denzel washington. FAVORITE SONG: like really by oddisee. FAVORITE SCENT/S: coffee, cinnamon, mint and citrus. FAVORITE SHOW/S: how to get away with murder is the only show he really follows and his all time favorite show is the fresh prince of bel air. FAVORITE SPORT/S & TEAM THEY SUPPORT: basketball, he supports philadelphia 76rs and miami heat, baseball, he supports new york yankees, american football, he supports philadelphia eagles, hockey, he supports philadelphia flyers and tampa bay lightning, soccer, he supports tottenham hotspur fc, barcelona fc and juventus fc, formula 1, he supports mercedes amg petronas, and the list continues — he loves sports. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR: fall. VACATION DESTINATION: sidi bou said, tunisia and bali, indonesia.

#── ✰. ┊ jordan : — HEADCANON. ❜

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socialjusticeartshare · 3 years

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Migrant families traumatized by Trump's separations could face lifetime of health problems

Samayra's son stopped eating after he was taken from his father at the Texas border in June 2018 under the Trump administration's zero-tolerance family separation policy.

The boy, who was seven at the time, and his father came to the U.S. seeking refuge after fleeing violence and poverty in their native Honduras.

But after he was sent to a shelter in New York, the boy didn't know if he would ever see his father again. He survived at the shelter mostly on crackers and juice, said Samayra, his mother.

When the boy was finally reunited with his father back in Texas a month later, the boy was so emaciated, his family barely recognized him, Samayra said.

The trauma didn't end after the boy and father were reunited and moved to Los Angeles to live with relatives.

He became quiet and withdrawn. He had trouble at school. He couldn't concentrate on his homework.

"He didn't have a desire to do anything," said Samayra, who agreed to an interview provided that her full name not be used because her immigration case is still pending.

He would get up from bed at night after being woken up by terrible nightmares.

When asked what was wrong, the boy would say he had dreamed he was back at the shelter.

"He was afraid he wasn't going to see his dad again," Samayra said.

The boy's troubles show how families separated at the border under Trump's zero-tolerance policy continue to experience mental health problems as a result of the trauma they endured more than two years ago, mental health experts say.

Despite being reunited, many children and families who were separated continue to struggle with a wide range of mental health problems that include anxiety, depression, trouble sleeping, guilt, fear of separation, and changes in behavior, mental health experts say.

On Friday, President-elect Joe Biden vowed that under his administration, the Justice Department and other investigative agencies will determine who was responsible for the zero-tolerance family separation policy and whether their conduct was criminal.

"I'm not going to tell the Justice Department who they should prosecute and who they should not," Biden said during a press conference to update the transition. "But there will be a thorough, thorough investigation of who was responsible and whether or not the responsibility is criminal."

In November 2019, a federal judge ruled that the Trump administration was liable for the trauma inflicted on families separated at the border under the zero-tolerance policy and ordered the government to provide mental health counseling to children and parents who experienced psychological injury.

CALLING ICE: After SB 1070, Phoenix police connect with immigration agency 7 times a day, on average

California-based agency nonprofit Seneca Family of Agencies was awarded a $14 million contract in March to contact separated families and connect those who wished treatment with mental health care counselors.

The program ends in June and advocates are rushing to contact as many families as possible.

Without counseling, mental health experts say, the children and parents could suffer a lifetime of mental and physical health problems.

"There is strong scientific consensus that early life adversity can lead to not just mental health issues down the road and into adulthood but also physiological and medical complications — heart disease, diabetes, substance abuse, poor socialization, or disruptive attachments," said Dr. Cesar Berdeja, a child and adolescent psychiatry specialist who has worked with unaccompanied migrant children. "So being able to form healthy, sound relationships can be impacted by having endured trauma of this level."

Most of the separations that took place at the border involved families from the Northern Triangle countries of Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras. The families were already "fleeing abhorrent community violence, fear, poverty, domestic violence, trafficking," Berdeja noted.

The family separations that took place under the zero-tolerance policy added to their trauma, he said.

"So to further burden vulnerable individuals that is an important recognition of why these kids and families should be offered services," Berdeja said.

Johanna Navarro-Perez, who oversees the Seneca Family of Agencies program to contact and connect families who were separated at the border with mental health services, echoed those comments.

"We are talking about (people) who were fleeing other sorts of state-sanctioned violence or traumatic events and then came here and at the hands of this government were also subjected to violence and trauma. Having your child ripped away from your arms is violent and traumatic," Navarro-Perez said.

Parents skeptical of help

Contacting the families, many of whom remain in the U.S. while their asylum cases are pending in immigration courts, has not been easy, she said.

Incomplete and outdated information provided by the government had made it difficult to track down many of the families, Navarro-Perez said.

The coronavirus pandemic has added to those difficulties, Navarro-Perez said. Seneca's outreach team couldn't go door-to-door or travel to locate the families, which is their practice. And families who experienced trauma and accepted counseling were unable to receive their therapy face-to-face, and needed to be provided tablets, reliable internet connection and other technical assistance that wasn't anticipated.

Advocates face another challenge. Many of the parents are skeptical of attempts to contact them even if they are experiencing mental health problems because of the mistrust and fear generated from being separated by the government.

"When we call them, they are already going to be skeptical of us," Navarro-Perez said. "If we are calling them and saying, 'Oh, we got your phone number from the federal government, the same federal government that separated you from your child."

Advocates are trying to contact over 2,200 families who are eligible for mental health services.

As of Jan. 6, about 575 families had been contacted. Of those, about 282 families have accepted services. Another 206 have declined services, according to Seneca data. The remainder is undecided.

Fear of abandonment hasn't gone away

More than two years after they were reunited, children who were separated from their parents at the border still live in fear of being abandoned by their parents, Navarro-Perez said.

ICYMI: New Trump administration citizenship test is more difficult for immigrants to pass

"Some of the kids had no idea what was going on and so thought their parents had abandoned them or (left) them and thought that for the duration of the separation," she said. "So that is going to impact the child-parent relationship and the trust between parent and child, even though that is not what actually happened."

Some parents also feel guilty about what their children went through, she said.

"And that can be a very debilitating feeling to carry around with you," she said.

How children and parents separated at the border process the trauma they experienced varies from family to family, said Crystal Reed, Seneca's outreach coordinator.

She has found that younger children were affected the most by the trauma of being separated from their parents, she said.

Some of the children were as young as 18 months old when they were separated from their parents at the border, court filings show. More than 400 of the children were younger than 4.

"I've noticed a little bit of a pattern," Reed said. "In sleeping patterns and eating patterns or personality differences."

Before they were separated some children "might have been a happy, playful, energetic kid," she said. But now they "might be more reserved and withdrawn. ... The things that they enjoyed doing before, they might not enjoy those things anymore."

Others have trouble being dropped off at school because they are afraid they might not see their parent again, Reed said.

Some parents report trouble sleeping at night.

"Some of the parents tell me, 'I can't sleep at night. I'm really stressed all the time. Or just really tearful. When I think about what happened to me, it's either avoidance, like we don't talk about it. I don't want to think about it, or when I do it's just really debilitating, really difficult to go back to that memory,'" Reed said.

Thousands of children separated from parents

In the spring of 2018, nearly 3,000 children were forcibly separated from their parents at the border as part of a zero-tolerance policy. The policy was aimed at deterring a wave of migrant families, mostly from violence and poverty-stricken regions in Central America and Mexico, from coming to the U.S. and asking for asylum.

Trump argued that migrant families aided by human-smuggling organizations were exploiting "loopholes" in the nation's immigration system by traveling to the U.S. without documents and then requesting asylum knowing they would be released while their cases were pending in immigration courts.

Advocates maintained they were fleeing violence and other dangerous conditions and had a right to come to the U.S. to seek asylum.

Under the policy, parents who crossed the southern border illegally faced criminal prosecution and were held in detention centers near the border while their children, some as young as 18 months old, were taken away and sent to shelters all over the U.S.

CHECK OUT: Immigration lawyers worry in-person appearances at Eloy court will increase COVID-19 risk

Trump signed an executive order ending the policy on June 20, 2018, following an international outcry over the separation of children from their parents.

A federal judge ordered the Trump administration on June 26, 2018, to reunite the families.

It was revealed later that more than 1,000 additional families had been separated under a pilot program that the Trump administration ran in the El Paso area for months starting in the fall of 2017.

Parents sue Trump administration

In July 2018, three parents who had been separated from their children under the zero-tolerance policy filed a class-action lawsuit in U.S. District Court for the Central District of California in San Francisco.

The lawsuit argued that the trauma the Trump administration inflicted on migrant families through its "extraordinary, deliberate and needless" separation policy violated their due process and equal protection rights under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution.

The government was therefore responsible for providing screening and mental health services to address that trauma, the lawsuit said.

"The legal point was that the government was taking individuals into custody and then creating great and inhumane harm," said Mark Rosenbaum, a lawyer with the pro bono public interest law firm Public Counsel, which along with the law firm, Sidley Austin, represented the families.

"The government can't do that," Rosenbaum said. "The government can take persons into custody for alleged violations of the law. But what it cannot do is expose those individuals to great harm and not remediate that harm."

'Fainted in terror'

One of the parents, a 37-year-old Indigenous woman from Guatemala, identified in the lawsuit as "J.P.," said she had entered the U.S. near San Luis, Arizona, around May 17, 2018, with her 16-year-old daughter.

The woman said she had fled death threats from a former partner who had sexually abused and beaten her, the lawsuit said.

The woman's native language is a Mayan dialect, and she could not speak or understand English and spoke very little Spanish, and therefore she could not communicate with U.S. Customs and Border Protection officials who detained her, the lawsuit said.

The woman said she and her daughter were held with about 150 other detainees in a windowless room with no beds, showers or private toilets and lights kept on 24 hours a day, the lawsuit said.

On about May 20, guards came and took her daughter away, the lawsuit said. The daughter "fainted in terror" when she realized what was happening, and injured her mouth "that left her face swollen for days," the lawsuit said.

The woman was detained at an Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility in Irvine, California, while her daughter was held at a shelter in Phoenix, the lawsuit said.

Long-term psychological effects

The woman had no contact with her daughter until June 22, when she was allowed to speak to her by telephone, the lawsuit said.

"Until then, Ms. P feared that she would never see or speak to her daughter again," the lawsuit said.

While at the shelter, the daughter could not speak about being separated from her mother without crying, the lawsuit said.

A social worker who evaluated the daughter said she showed signs of depression, anxiety, adjustment to trauma, and traumatic grief, the lawsuit said.

DIG DEEP: Calls to state child-abuse hotline have declined during pandemic, but impact is less clear

The mother reported "almost always having upsetting thoughts about being

separated from her daughter, and repeatedly experiences bad dreams or nightmares," the lawsuit said.

A social worker who evaluated her said she was displaying symptoms of

post-traumatic stress disorder, the lawsuit said.

The lawsuit also included statements from mental health experts who said that "forcible separation of children from their parents is a traumatic event that can have both immediate and long-term psychological consequences if left unaddressed by professional care."

Judge orders government to pay for mental health care

U.S. District Court Judge John Kronstadt recommended the Trump administration reach a settlement to pay for mental health services, Rosenbaum said.

The families negotiated a settlement with the Trump administration for months but just "when we thought it was all but accomplished," the White House rejected the deal, Rosenbaum said.

"So we had lost real-time in real people's lives where the trauma had created even more suffering," Rosenbaum said.

After the deal fell through, Kronstadt agreed to grant an injunction, and ordered the government to pay for mental health services for children and parents who had been separated, Rosenbaum said.

In his order, Kronstadt rejected the contention by government lawyers that the lawsuit should be dismissed and agreed with the parents that the government was responsible for trauma inflicted on them as a result of the family separations.

Trump administration lawyers initially filed a motion to appeal Kronstadt's ruling, but withdrew the motion in February, clearing the way for the contract to be awarded in March to Seneca Family of Agencies.

The decision to drop the appeal was startling, Rosenbaum said, given that the Trump administration has vigorously appealed other unfavorable rulings to its hard-line immigration policies as far as the Supreme Court.

Rosenbaum saw the decision not to appeal as an acknowledgment that the case was indefensible.

"This deliberate policy, which the government initially denied what was really going on here, it's going to go down in the annals of American history as one of the most cruel attempts in terms of not respecting the sanctity of the human family," Rosenbaum said.

Rosenbaum praised the families who are now coming forward and receiving mental health services.

"It's an extraordinary testament to the strength of these families that they are seeking mental health services and that they are working through" their trauma, Rosenbaum said.

After the contract was awarded in March, Seneca launched a campaign to reach out to separated families across the country and inform them of the program, called Todo Por Mi Familia, which in Spanish means, All For My Family. The states with the largest number of separated families are California, Florida, New Jersey, New York, Texas, and Washington.

The campaign includes a hotline, 844-529-3327, a web page, and Facebook page. Several Latin celebrities have also recorded videos promoting the program, among them actor, singer and former Miss Universe Dayanara Torres, actor Eugenio Derbez, singer Roselyn Sanchez, actor Carlos Ponce and actor Cristian de la Fuente.

Meanwhile, Samayra and her son, who is now 10, have received mental health counseling through the program.

Samayra came separately to the U.S. with her 7-month-old daughter in December 2018 after traveling through Mexico from Honduras to escape dangerous conditions and reunite with her husband and son.

But unlike her son and husband, she and her daughter were not separated after being apprehended by the Border Patrol in Texas, Samayra said.

Samayra said she and her son began receiving mental health counseling in March, making them among the first families to accept treatment under the program.

The counseling her son received has helped him process the trauma he experienced.

"He's doing a lot better," she said.

She also had a message for other families who were separated at the border:

"I want to recommend that other families be open to accepting this help," she said. "It has helped us a lot."

Todo Por Mi Familia

Here are ways to find out more information about Todo Por Mi Familia, the program administered by Seneca Family of Agencies to connect migrant families separated at the border with mental health counseling paid for by the federal government under a court order.

Todo Por Mi Familia Hotline: 844-529-3327

Todo Por Mi Familia Email: [email protected]

Todo Por Mi Familia Facebook Page: facebook.com/Todo-Por-Mi-Familia-110726410630900/

Seneca’s website: senecafoa.org/todopormifamilia/

General questions about Todo Por Mi Familia: 323-326-8287

Reach the reporter at [email protected] or at 602-444-8312. Follow him on Twitter @azdangonzalez.

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