#I have encountered a situation where I needed to apply that sort of thinking exactly one time

[autogeneity]

Hi, I was looking into computer science and I wanted to ask you what drew you to it and how you feel about it as a career choice?

I don't think my reasons for getting into it are likely to be very helpful to anyone else because they are very specific to my life at the time and not actually much about computer science at all. Skip to the last section for more relevant things.

But here is my story —

I went into university with a starry-eyed idea of understanding the True Fundamentals of Everything and was majoring in maths, physics, and philosophy. also my brain was broken and I had a very fuckd't relationship to reality as a concept (mega derealisation with substantial perceptual distortions and potentially some delusional features) and some part of me saw this as Deep Philosophical Insight, while another hoped getting The Answers would solve it.

after a year it became apparent that this was probably at least a little silly and not going to happen, and I didn't actually see myself being a professional physicist irl.

additionally, I felt more drawn to doing something with more tangible outcomes in the real world rather than chasing maximum abstraction. I had a growing interest in neuroscience and AI and simulation, but also could maybe see myself becoming a professional mathematician. so I kept the maths and switched the others to computer science and psychology.

I guess the specific CS appeals were: I already knew some programming and had found it basically trivial to learn, so I sort of figured it is probably a good match for my brain. and I like puzzles (actually when I first got to uni all the departments were doing little recruitment speech thingies and the CS department actually gave us puzzles! I somehow imagined this would be representative of literally anything (it is not)). I still find those, like, code challenge type problems a lot of fun though.

the final thing that sealed the deal was the availability of a scholarship for maths+cs major, and the fact that it could provide a backup plan if my academia plans failed.

---

As for how I feel about it — well, my academia plans did fail so I am very glad I had a backup in place. Even if they hadn't gone wrong at the time, it's pretty clear to me now that the many mental health issues I continued to deal with in the time since would have led to me fucking up in academia sooner or later in a way they did not in my job. There is much, much more latitude here.

And it's pretty alright as a job; I'm not ecstatic about it but I don't really mind overall and it is sometimes fun. I actually like bug-fixing, lol — the kind where there's an immediately-obvious mistake and I just gotta correct it is boring but the hunt is fun. In general I dislike the amount of small, tedious tasks where I just gotta do some obvious thing, but I like it when I get to build something more substantive that requires more figuring out. I am somewhat fond of the way the shape of the things feels in my brain (not sure that makes any sense lmao). Albeit there are not really many puzzles. :(

But I'm not intending to stay in my current work. I worked briefly in data science and found it much more engaging. I plan to move towards that and/or stuff in the direction of bioinformatics or scientific computing or computational neuroscience. Which is all still computer science but not. software development.

---

Which is probably the biggest thing I would want to highlight for someone considering computer science. In general working in software development (the most typical career path) is very different to working in computer science. Very often someone interested in the one will not be very happy with the other. I would encourage identifying which is your interest, and seeing what they both actually entail, before pursuing anything.

Because like, if you want a run-of-the-mill programming job, in many places it might be worth considering just doing some sort of bootcamp and projects. The company I work at gets probably like 20% of their graduate hires from that stream. Much cheaper and faster than a degree! Or for various other types of work certifications might be a good approach.

If you like mathy things, you probably want computer science proper. If you like engineering, tiny technical details, performance focus, etc, you probably do want formal education and may want to look at things requiring low-level languages, e.g. embedded software. I think people who like twiddling and configuring enjoy cloud shit? or infrastructure and ops work more generally but I think these days most places that looks like cloud shit. If you like the big picture, modeling, and the human side, you may be interested in systems analysis (I find this Very Shaped tbh but am not up for the human side and honestly don't like making big judgement calls).

Somehow I don't actually know what the people who like everyday application development actually like about it specifically lmao? even though they are surely the majority. But ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[isabelpsaroslunnen]

I have personal stakes in the situation, etc, but it's very strange to me when people (usually fans or writers of literary fiction, along with a number of creative writing MFA faculty) insist that the bias against genre fiction is dead.

It's ... not as bad as when I was an undergrad, sure. But going from essentially dismissing all genre writing from consideration or outright banning it from creative writing programs or workshops, to allowing it under more specific and restrictive standards than apply to literary fiction, is still not ideal.

It's like—okay, we'll accept genre fiction if it's sufficiently weird and experimental and blurs genre boundaries and is not like the other girls especially good. Of course, any fiction submitted to anything should be good! But if genre fiction needs to be even better than others to pass muster, if it has to be weird and experimental where literary fiction does not necessarily need to be, if it needs to blend into other genres to really be worthwhile (i.e. the less [genre] it is, the better), then it doesn't exactly feel like a dead bias.

There's an interesting interview of Chandler Klang Smith by Adrian Van Young that articulates the attitude towards genre that a lot of us encounter. At one point in the interview, Van Young talks about loving "the idea of consciously writing into genre rather than only riffing on it with the sly meta-awareness to which we’ve become accustomed in so-called 'genre-bending' literary fiction." And I do think that sort of "sly meta-awareness" is often what's considered acceptable genre fiction when you look outside publishers and programs specializing in those genres.

It's not high standards that I dislike; it's double standards. In reality, literary fiction is also genre fiction—it's just a genre that certain (influential) people hold in much higher esteem.

[essence-inked]

I work IT at a university help desk, and I may actually be able to clear this one up.

For my job, we get a lot of account access related calls, so the version of "did you restart the computer" for us is "can you try going to your main account page and logging in."

When someone calls and says they can't access something tied in with their university account, we'll usually start with confirming their credentials are what they say they are even if they tell us they were able to log into other services of ours just earlier that day. We do this not because it's a script (we don't actually have those, there's a couple main points we need to hit, but mostly it's just that the same common sense questions apply to everyone), but because it tells us several things:

If they're using the wrong username (happens a lot because the nomenclature for our school's email addresses changed a while back, and the old ones are still used as aliases but can't be used to log into things with, so this happens a lot with alumni and new students.

If they actually type in their password - some people will save their passwords, and then after resetting them, that info will be wrong. Depending on exactly what the situation is, seeing how they log into something can tip us off about this.

It gives us more info about edge cases. If the user gets a really wonky error, then they can read it out to us directly rather than just saying "it isn't working."

Sometimes people honest to god will just make a mistake. This happens a lot when someone calls saying they just reset their password, but now they can't log in to anything; chances are they wrote their password down wrong. Or, hey, sometimes computer gremlins Just Happen. Either way, if they try to sign in and it doesn't work, they're conveniently at the page where they can reset their password from. So, if they do just get a "wrong password" error, we can go right ahead and show them how to reset it, then make sure they can log in for real this time.

Checking that users can log in usually takes quite literally less than one minute, and if it takes more, then it's probably a very good idea we tried that for starters.

Both those comments are, in some sense, right. The first one is right because 90% of the time, it's the easy and obvious solutions that fix the problem, and the thing is just that the customer was doing them slightly wrong, or didn't know something they needed to, or something of the sort. The second one is right in terms of the experience a lot of people seem to have - there are indeed dumbasses out there like that person who understand rudimentary troubleshooting just enough to get annoyed when someone asks them to give it one more shot real quick, but not enough to realize that there's usually good reason behind the request. And when they get all snippy thinking that they know way more than the tech support people, they do a fantastic job of making the call an absolute nightmare for everyone involved, becoming some sort of obnoxious self-fulfilling prophecy.

Also? There are absolutely customers who know their stuff, and as soon as that becomes apparent, I'll up the technical lingo to match theirs right away. Thing is, every single time I have someone on the phone who starts off the call by telling me how much they know their stuff, without fail, they will then immediately prove themselves wrong. I have yet to encounter someone who acts that way who turns out to be the tech whiz they think they are.

Tech support people don't want to keep you on the phone longer than they absolutely have to, and it's not just for your sanity - it's also for ours. If we're asking you to try a thing, it's for a good damn reason, and the fastest way to actually get your problem sorted out is to maybe trust the expert you called, because if you could've fixed it yourself, then you wouldn't be on the phone with us.

[todomitoukei]

English vs. Japanese Shouto - A 298 Comparison

Welcome back to another comparison between the Japanese version and the official English translation. This chapter has caused a lot of confusion as soon as the spoilers came out, particularly in regards to the last line in Shouto’s monologue. Does he want to kill Dabi? Is he going to fight him?

Aside from the confusion, this chapter is important for both Shouto’s character, as well as his and Dabi’s storyline, moving forward.

The scene starts with a panel of Shouto in his hospital bed, surrounded by his classmates who by now are also aware of the situation. As we find out at the end of the chapter, Shouto’s throat is burned, so he currently can’t talk. Regardless, he has a lot to say or rather a lot to reflect on, starting with an obvious fact:

“His flames are stronger than dad’s.”

An obvious fact and a simple sentence. But what about the original?

「あいつの炎は親父よりも強かった。」

「あいつ ; aitsu 」-> he; that guy

「の ; no 」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe

「炎 ; honou 」-> flame

「は ; ha 」-> topic marker particle

「親父 ; oyaji 」-> dad

「よりも ; yori mo 」-> in comparison to; more than

「強かった ; tsuyokatta 」-> was strong

= “His flames were stronger than dad’s.”

The difference here is the tense. While the original text has Shouto say that the flames “were” stronger, the English translation has him say they “are” stronger. It’s not really an important difference, but I think the past tense was him reflecting on the one fact he knew about Touya before all this. The first time we, the readers, heard about Touya in chapter 202 -

was during Shouto’s early training days, where Endeavor brought up Touya and the fact that “his fire was greater” - so this is a fact Shouto was raised with, someone he was essentially compared to. Touya set the bar high, but Endeavor expected Shouto to raise the bar even higher.

“I couldn’t win with firepower alone. So strong… Those flames full of hate.”

While Shouto had so far only been told about Touya’s strength, this is the first time he got to actually experience this himself. Now, Touya’s flames being stronger isn’t just something Endeavor said, but something Shouto knows.

「火力で勝てなかった強い。。。憎しみの炎だった。」

「火力 ; karyoku」-> firepower

「で ; de 」-> with

「勝てなかった ; katenakatta 」-> couldn’t win

「強い ; tsuyoi 」-> strong

「憎しみ ; nikushimi 」-> hatred

「の ; no 」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe

「炎 ; honou 」-> flame

「だった ; datta 」-> was

= “I couldn’t win with firepower. Strong… it was a flame of strong hatred.”

Again, not a big difference, especially since the English translation made sure to split the text the same way as the original, but tsuyoi (strong) is an adjective that attaches to the noun, nikushimi (hatred). Sure, his flames are strong, but more importantly, his hatred is strong and that is the bigger problem here.

Not only does Dabi have a stronger flame, but his hatred grants him even more power as he’s not held back by any rational thought or feeling. Like a forest fire, you can’t just extinguish it. Instead, it keeps spreading and growing larger and larger.

“And he’s… been watching us all this time.”

Next, we get the flashback to the first time Shouto met Dabi back in the summer arc. Maybe Dabi’s “How sad, poor little Shouto Todoroki” didn’t mean that much to Shouto - who might have just assumed that Dabi knew his name from the sports festival - but now he understands that this had been planned for a long time. Touya “died” around ten years ago and during all that time, Dabi had been thinking about this moment. 

「あいつはずっと見てたんだ。」

「あいつ ; aitsu 」-> he; that guy

「は ; ha 」-> topic marker particle

「ずっと ; zutto 」-> continuously; the whole time

「見てた ; miteta 」-> was watching

「んだ ; nda 」-> explanatory particle

= “He was watching the whole time.”

Again, not much of a difference except for the tense. Another thing that this is implying is that Dabi is incredibly patient. Instead of just being filled with rage and letting it out all, he waited in the shadows for years, even when being so close to Shouto he chose to keep his composure, even though he could’ve just killed him right then and there if he had wanted to.

Something that got lost in translation is the nuance of the nda at the end of the sentence, which can have multiple meanings. Here, it expresses reason and discovery, as Shouto understands his first encounter with Dabi now. Sort of like saying “Oh, so that’s why he knew my name. That’s what he has been up to the entire time.”

“All… to bring down dad. Wrecking his own body along the way… and not giving a damn whose lives get ruined in the process.”

「親父を貶めるためだけにその身を滅ぼしながらあらゆる人の人生を巻き込んで。」

「親父 ; oyaji 」-> dad

「を ; o 」-> direct object marker

「貶める ; otoshimeru 」-> to look down upon; to cause to fall

「ため ; tame 」-> purpose 

「だけに ; dake ni 」-> being the case; precisely 

「その ; sono 」-> that

「身 ; mi 」-> body; oneself

「を ; o 」-> direct object marker

「滅ぼしながら ; horoboshi nagara 」-> while destroying

「あらゆる人 ; ara yuru hito 」-> all kinds of people

「の ; no 」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe

「人生 ; jinsei 」-> human life

「を ; o 」-> direct object marker

「巻き込んで ; makikonde 」-> involving; dragging into

= “For the purpose of causing dad’s downfall, he destroyed his body at the same time and dragged other lives into it.”

I find the additional “not giving a damn” in the official translation interesting (= I hate it)… since he literally doesn’t say that, but sure let’s just add this to make it seem like Shouto is judging Dabi here when he is not doing that at all. This is merely an observation, stating the fact that his older brother’s mind was so clouded by hatred that he involved other people’s lives in their family business. This isn’t to say that Shouto doesn’t see this as wrong, but it’s not the point and not something he is focusing on. He’s connecting the dots, making sense of the situation, and understanding the reasons that led to Dabi’s crimes rather than just stating the obvious of “this is wrong.”

On to one of my favorite lines this chapter: “He’s basically... me.”

「あいつは俺だ。」

「あいつ ; aitsu 」-> he; that guy

「は ; ha 」-> topic marker particle

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「だ ; da 」-> be

= “That guy is me.”

So, I’m not sure why the “basically” was added in the official English translation since Shouto doesn’t say it like that. He just says “Touya = me.” It’s a fact. Obviously, Shouto isn’t actually Touya, but the “basically” isn’t needed unless you suddenly think that maybe Shouto hass two separate bodies at once somehow. This might be nitpicking, and there have definitely been bigger changes before, but to me the “basically” distances the two, even though the sentence is supposed to show that they are the same. Yes, one is on the hero side and the other on the villain side. Of course there are differences. But again, it’s not about the crimes Dabi has committed or how these two brothers differ. It’s about what’s going on in their minds, what feelings control their every action. They come from the same place, physically and mentally. The way they reacted to their pain is the same, with the big difference being what Shouto points out next:

“I was also burning with rage… up until that day.”

That day, as the panel shows, being the sports festival, the day Shouto began to see clearly. But Dabi didn’t have a moment like that (yet) and so he continues going down that path, while Shouto managed to leave that mindset.

「あの日までの俺がこの身を焼いたんだ。」

「あの ; ano 」-> that

「日 ; hi 」-> day

「まで ; made 」-> until

「の ; no 」-> nominalizes the preceding phrase

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「この ; kono 」-> this

「身 ; mi 」-> body; oneself

「を ; o 」-> direct object marker

「焼いた ; yaita 」-> was burning

「んだ ; nda 」-> explanatory particle

= “Until that day, I burned this body.”

As mentioned earlier, the nda is an explanatory particle. Here, it again expresses discovery. Shouto draws a conclusion here: Just like he used to burn his body, Dabi is still doing the same to his.

Again, his focus is not on Dabi, the villain, but Touya, his older brother, and someone just like Shouto. While other people might just see a mentally unstable criminal, Shouto sees how self-destructive Dabi is. And because Shouto hadn’t realized how clouded his mind was, he understands that Dabi most likely doesn’t quite realize this either. Dabi ignores his own pain, all in order to destroy Endeavor. A cry for help that others aren’t capable of comprehending.

“Dad can’t do it…”

「親父じゃやれねェ。。。」

「親父 ; oyaji 」-> dad

「じゃ ; jya 」-> casual particle

「やれ ねェ ; yarenee 」-> can’t do

= “Dad can’t do it.”

[EDIT because this part originally had a different explanation: As pointed out by this anon here, the jya in this case is a casual particle to mark the topic/subject, and the nee part is the casual form of nai, which negates the verb. The translation is the same but the explanation is different!]

And now, for the last line:

“I have to be the one… to handle… my brother Touya.”

Handle him…

「燈矢兄は俺がやらなきゃ。」

「燈矢 ; touya 」-> Touya

「兄 ; nii 」-> suffix for older brother

「は ; ha 」-> topic marker particle

「俺 ; ore 」-> I

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「やらなきゃ ; yaranakya 」-> must do it

= “I am the one that has to take care of Touya-Nii.”

So this is the line that caused confusion and panic, due to the yaranakya part. As you can see by the meaning of the word, similar to how “must do it” can have multiple meanings in English, the same logic applies to the Japanese word. It’s also important to note that the word here consists of the two parts yaru (to do) and nakya (must do). Nakya not only expresses that you have to do something, but, in this case, also shows determination. Shouto really has to do it and will do it. But do what exactly? Again, the problem with yaru is that its meaning depends on context, but sometimes context itself isn’t super helpful. One of the definitions of yaru is “to kill” and that might be what some people think it means here? But context tells us that this makes zero sense. Why show how much he understands his brother only to turn around and decide “well, I got help but he hasn’t so I’m just gonna have to kill him, I guess” - no.

More importantly, right before this line, he says “dad can’t do it” - what can’t he do? If we were talking about killing him, then why would Shouto be able to do it and not Endeavor? Of course, there are the... funny people who suggested that only Shouto can fight/kill his brother because unlike him, Endeavor has an emotional attachment to Dabi (I’m just not gonna comment on this). Anyway, to answer the question of what Endeavor can’t do but Shouto can, we have to look at what Shouto said before that, which is talking about him also having burned his body until the sports festival. This is the key moment where Shouto’s and Dabi’s similarities end and only because someone was reaching out to Shouto. So obviously, in order to have Dabi stop being self-destructive and fueled by hatred, someone needs to reach out to Dabi. And that’s the thing that Endeavor can’t do. After all, Endeavor is the root cause of this, which in turn brings this scene to a full circle since right before Shouto’s monologue began, we got this flashback to what Starservant said in chapter 244:

“That one is the root cause,” accompanied by a panel showing Endeavor.

For reference, here’s the Japanese counterpart:

「其奴こそが元凶じゃ！！」

「其奴 ; soyatsu 」-> that guy

「こそ ; koso 」-> for sure (emphasizes preceding word)

「が ; ga 」-> subject marker particle

「元凶 ; genkyou 」-> culprit; main source

「じゃ ; jya 」-> sentence ender often used for old people in fiction

= “That guy is definitely the main source!”

Shouto remembering this is just stating an obvious fact that he hadn’t fully understood before: Dabi’s existence is Endeavor’s fault. His actions drove Touya to become Dabi, someone whose sole purpose for existing is to destroy Endeavor. So Endeavor couldn’t possibly save him. No matter what Endeavor would say or do, it would be meaningless. But Shouto is different because Shouto was Dabi. The big obstacle Shouto has to figure out how to overcome is making his big brother understand this, too. Regardless, Shouto is the only one that can reach out to him and the only one that fully understands him.

Another important to point out with this line, and many others have already talked about this, is that Shouto now refers to Dabi as Touya-Nii, whereas on the battlefield a few days prior, Shouto only called him Touya, without the “nii”. He is now actively acknowledging that this is, in fact, his big brother. He isn’t Dabi, the villain. And he isn’t just Touya, either - some abstract idea; someone Shouto has heard of but never met or talked to (not confirmed, but likely). This is now his big bro, just like Natsuo is, and just like Fuyumi is his big sister. They’re family.

Overall, this chapter was actually pretty accurate in terms of translation; though granted, Shouto isn’t a villain so the bias isn’t there… but anyway, this marks a very important turning point in the story and gives us a rough idea of what’s in store for Shouto from here on out.

He recognizes where Dabi is coming from. He doesn’t just see him as a villain, but rather someone who has been so full of hatred - for good reasons - that he ended up dragging innocent people into this. The focus, though, is entirely on that one fact: “That guy is me.”

Shouto understands that he could have turned out the same way, he understands hurting his own body just to spite his father.

The key concern with this chapter was that Shouto said that he’s going to kill Touya. I have no idea who started this rumor, but as mentioned, there is a possible confusion regarding yaru, which has multiple meanings. But although he doesn’t explicitly say “I will save him” it’s obvious from everything else he says during this chapter. If he recognizes that they’re the same, his conclusion won’t be “I have to kill him.” Especially when taking into consideration the fact that Shouto also pointed out that he couldn’t win against Dabi with his fire. And no, that doesn’t mean he can beat him with his ice or that that’s what he intends on doing. It’s not clear what he will be doing exactly, but that is partially due to the fact that Shouto is currently not in a state where he could possibly figure out the answer, either. 

But he has a goal: saving Touya-Nii - not so much from Endeavor, but from Dabi.

Next week’s chapter will hopefully focus on the Todofam conversation about to take place and will maybe give us some more hints as to what to expect. So far, though, it’s very obvious that Shouto will try to reach out to Dabi and save him, much like he was also saved from his hatred during the sports festival. He might not have a relationship with Touya the way he has started to build one with Natsuo and Fuyumi, but they have a much deeper connection because they are the same person.

[artificialdaydreamer]

How to Say "I Love You"

Emotions are hard to understand, conveying how one feels to the person they love is even harder.

-

Jon had never been good at expressing his emotions. Growing up he mostly absorbed their descriptions from books, how a character was excited for something to happen, how another was jealous of someone else. The feeling he found hardest to comprehend was love. How was it possible to be so completely devoted to another person that it shifted the way you felt about everything? He loved his parents, even now that they were gone. He loved his grandmother, but he got the feeling that the type of love written about in books was different from the emotions he was actually experiencing.

When he started dating Georgie, something he’d entirely misinterpreted when it had first happened, Jon wasn’t sure what the emotions he felt were. Was the yearning to be close to her love? The happiness to have someone he could talk with about inconsequential things? Then again, if what he felt wasn’t love, then what was? Eventually Georgie came to him, told him that while she liked Jon as a friend she didn’t think their relationship was working out. They’d broken up without much fanfare and going from dating to friends didn’t really change how they interacted with each other.

As he watched Martin sleep, his coppery curls catching the light of the rising sun, his face close enough to Jon’s that it was possible to count every freckle, Jon thought he might finally have an answer. He loved Martin, that was the only explanation for why his heart clenched whenever Martin smiled, why his cheeks flushed and his palms started to sweat from the smallest things. This was what people talked about in those books, what they yearned for with such intensity, wasn’t it?

When had he started feeling like this? When had Jon’s feelings for Martin turned to love? Was it when he’d gone into the Lonely? When Martin had started working for Peter Lukas and Jon was no longer able to see him? Earlier? How long had he loved Martin and just not realized it?

Jon lay there, thinking back to their interactions over the years. Next to him Martin started to stir, blue eyes blinking open slowly. “Morning.” Martin said with a smile.

“Good morning.” Jon tried to keep his voice from shaking as his heart pounded in time with his thoughts. I love you, I love you, I love you.

From then on it was hard to not feel overwhelmed by the love, like a wave crashing over him. Jon would be in the middle of a sentence before getting distracted by Martin, how beautiful he was, his laugh. I love you, I love you, I love you. How did people deal with these emotions?

He started to use actions instead of the words he could not say. Making sure they had enough of Martin’s favorite tea in the safehouse. I love you, I love you, I love you. Offering to cook breakfast so Martin could stay in bed a bit longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. Letting his fingers linger a bit longer than was necessary whenever they touched. I love you, I love you, I love you.

They’d decided to take a walk into town, grab some groceries, and stretch their legs, passing the field full of cows Martin stopped and cooed over them. He’d gotten out his phone to take pictures and the moment was so... normal compared to everything they’d been through that Jon started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Martin had asked, tearing his eyes from the cows to look at Jon in confusion.

“Nothing,” Jon took a breath, trying to burn this moment into his memory. “I just love you so much.”

There was a moment of silence where Martin just stared at him, his freckled face looking even redder thanks to the glow of the setting sun. “Wait... What?”

For a heartbeat Jon wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, although he hadn’t even meant to say it at all. He couldn’t help but question if Martin’s confession of “I really loved you” meant that those feelings were gone. Had he been the only one who worried about just what the emotions flooding through his veins meant? Was he just imagining that Martin felt the same way?

“I- I’m sorry... I didn’t mean-” Jon was floundering now, scrambling for something to say to make the situation right again. “If you don’t- I’m sorry.”

“You... Do you mean that?” Martin’s cheeks were practically scarlet, his phone now dangling precariously in one hand.

“I... Yes?” Despite the fact Jon had already come to terms with his feelings, had already said the words aloud, it felt like an entirely different thing to answer when his thoughts were in such turmoil. He didn’t know how to respond in a way that wouldn’t sound selfish, asking for affection he knew in his heart he didn’t deserve. Even if Martin did still like him there wasn’t anything that Jon could do to atone for the thing’s he had said, the things he had done, the person he’d been to have treated Martin so terribly. It was ironic, that at the time he’d swatted away such affection yet now he craved it as though he were an addict suffering from withdrawal. As though he’d been living underground and now that he’d seen sunlight he couldn’t get enough.

The expression on Martin’s face was hard to understand. Was it sadness? Pity? The books Jon had read as a child had talked about brows furrowing, lips being bitten, eyes not being met, but those individual descriptions could apply to so many emotions and Jon didn’t know what it was Martin might be feeling. It was all Jon could do to not scrunch his eyes up as Martin took a tentative step closer, then another, bridging the gap between them and effectively forcing all the air from Jon’s lungs. Then he’d swept Jon up in his arms, Jon’s face nestling into the crook of his neck. It was so warm and comfortable... It felt like Jon belonged there.

“S-sorry...” Martin gasped as they broke apart, his face still red as he seemed to examine Jon for some sort of reaction. “I should have asked first, but I- Are you okay?”

In all honesty Jon was not okay. His brain was attempting to sort out just what he was feeling, synapses firing and crossing out things like anger and disgust with only his limited knowledge of emotions to go off of. Again, the words and feeling threatened to overwhelm him with the constant pounding of I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Jon?” Martin waved a hand in front of his face and it was a real effort for Jon to pull himself out of his thoughts enough to meet Martin’s gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no... I just... I wasn’t expecting- I didn’t know if-”

“Wait... Jon, did you not think I felt the same?” Martin’s eyes were wide, reflecting the setting sun.

“I, I’m not sure.” He’d spent so much time absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t actually thought of what might happen if he confessed. He hadn’t even thought about confessing. Jon realized that he’d somehow become content with just loving Martin and not telling him. He’d convinced himself that Martin was better off without him, and that there wasn’t a point in confessing.

“Jon, I’ve loved you for the past two years.” Martin’s voice was soft, his cheeks still flushed as he stared at Jon.

“What?” Jon squawked, taking a step back in surprise. Martin reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand in his own, it was so warm, so comforting.

“Well, not exactly two years...” Martin ran his free hand through his coppery curls. “Since the thing with Prentiss, when you let me stay in the Archives...”

Jon remembered those long nights they’d spent together after Martin had started living in the document storage room. At first Jon had found Martin’s presence kind of annoying, it was impossible to get some time by himself. Then he’d realized what was going on, although he couldn’t explain just how he’d known.

Martin didn’t want to be alone.

While he’d admitted during his statement that boredom had been the thing that had been the hardest to deal with, Jon suspected loneliness had also plagued him. Cut off from everyone, no internet, no phone, and it wasn’t like he could talk to Jane Prentiss. It certainly explained why Martin felt the need to check on Jon every half hour.

Once he’d realized why Martin was acting like a concerned parent he made an effort to take more breaks so they could talk. At first it had been hard to find topics for discussion, as Jon was as good with small talk as he was with emotions, but bringing up the Admiral had certainly broken the ice. After that Jon found it easier to connect with Martin, it was still somewhat awkward, but he certainly made an effort. Jon had also ended up staying in the Archives overnight a handful of times as well, partially because he had work to do and partially to keep Martin company.

It had been those nights where they’d started to connect, going out to eat so they could both eat a decent meal, talking about random things to pass the time while they struggled to fall asleep. Jon had started to get a sense of who Martin was, underneath the jumpers and tea. He was earnest and always tried his best to do whatever task Jon set for him, no matter how absurd it was. He also had a mischievous side to him and had no problem joining Tim in his pranks, although Martin was much better at keeping the pranks a secret.

It felt strange, getting to know a person through whispered conversations, over tea breaks, or at a cafe. Jon was never good with friendships, never good at telling what people wanted from him, so he’d ended up pushing everyone away. After his encounter with Mr. Spider he only became more withdrawn, survivor’s guilt eating him up inside. Martin wasn’t like the others though. Despite the fact that Jon was horrible at communicating, horrible at deciphering what emotions anyone might be feeling at any given time, Martin didn’t seem to care. He seemed to be genuinely happy to spend time with Jon, which was just as foreign a concept.

Now, despite everything that had happened in the past few years, Martin had stayed with him. An anchor in the churning waves that threatened to wash him away from everything he knew and cared about. Jon loved him for that. “I think that’s when I started to fall for you too. I didn’t- I didn’t realize at the time...”

“Oh, I definitely didn’t realize either.” Martin’s cheeks were slightly less flushed than they had been. “I think I realized it when- this is going to sound crazy...”

“You realized it when, Martin?” Jon couldn’t help but ask, smiling at the flustered look on Martin’s face.

“It... It was when I told you about lying on my CV.” Martin sighed, not daring to meet Jon’s gaze. “You, you were so mad at first but after I told you... You just started laughing and I remember looking at you and thinking ‘really? This is the man I fell in love with?’ Thankfully Tim... Tim was too distracted by everything else going on to pay attention to my hopeless crush.”

“Not so hopeless.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand. “I knew how much I cared about you when I woke up in the hospital after my coma. Georgie was there, and I remember being sad because it was you I wanted to see.” It felt strange to say the words aloud, as though he was only understanding what had happened. He’d been thinking about it so much over the past few weeks, since he’d realized that he loved Martin, but it took saying the words aloud for him to notice. “It was funny, the months that followed, I thought it was a fitting punishment for how I’d treated you. Wanting to be close to someone and yet unable to do so. I knew I loved you a few days after we arrived here.”

“Is that why you were acting so weird?”

“Look, I... I’m not the best with emotions. I don’t get them, I don’t understand how I feel half the time. With other people it’s even harder, trying to piece together how they’re feeling based on their expression or the tone of their voice...” Since he was still holding Martin’s hand Jon couldn’t cross his arms defensively over his chest, so he settled for putting his free hand in his pocket. “This is the first time I’ve ever... I’ve ever felt something so intensely. I didn’t know what to do, how to act, now that I knew I loved you.”

“I get it, emotions are hard. Can I help?” Martin asked, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Sure? I guess so?”

“How did you feel when I told you that I loved you?”

Jon had to think about it, he’d been so overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that he wasn’t sure what any of them had been. “I was... I think I was happy.”

“You think?”

“I was happy, alright?” Jon huffed. “I was also shocked, and confused... Mostly I was happy, because I loved you so much.”

“Alright, that’s good to know.” Martin took a step closer, still smiling. “How would you feel if I kissed you?”

The answer came easier this time. “Happy. I’d feel happy.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.” Jon didn’t know what to expect from Martin kissing him. He’d kissed Georgie and while it hadn’t been unpleasant he hadn’t gotten anything from the experience. This time however, Jon could taste the remnants of whatever chapstick Martin had used, strawberry maybe? He felt how warm Martin’s lips were, despite the cold day, their heat bleeding into him. He wrapped his arms around Martin and pulled them closer, trying to memorize everything as it happened. Martin’s scent, the wool of his jumper, how fast both their hearts were beating. In his head Jon was panicking. He didn’t know what to do, or if what he was doing was the right thing to do. He attempted to understand what the emotions he felt were: happiness... amazement... and love. So much love. Was love even an emotion? He didn’t know, but it certainly overwhelmed his senses.

When they broke apart Martin was smiling and, more surprisingly, Jon was smiling back. “Let’s take it one day at a time, alright? We can work out what you might be feeling together.”

“I- I’d like that.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words still rattled around in his mind, but for once they didn’t worry him. Jon might not understand love, or emotions, or why the characters in his books had behaved a certain way, but it didn’t matter. Martin loved him back, and that was more than enough for him.

-

I've been sitting on this fic for a year due to some personal issues, on a related note this is not betaed, I apologize for any mistakes there might be

[five-rivers]

Pep Talks 12

I think this might be the longest chapter of Pep Talks so far...

(AO3)

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When Clockwork first took Danny on as an apprentice, he’d laid out some ground rules for when he unexpectedly found himself in an unknown timeline. As Apprentice of Time, Danny was more likely to attract anomalies like natural portals and the like, and when that was combined with his innate bad luck regarding portals, well… winding up in weird places wasn’t quite a weekly occurrence, but saying it was wouldn’t have been a huge exaggeration.

That’s all to say, Danny appreciated the rules. He didn’t want to wind up never having been born again, or, worse, making it so that one of his friends had never been born. Or causing an apocalypse. Or wrecking the future. Or—

There were just a lot of problems that he could, and had, caused.

If Clockwork were able to pick Danny up right away every time, most of the rules probably would have been unnecessary. But he wasn’t. Mostly because of physics-shaped problems involving paradoxes and how too many time portals in the same general area could screw things up, but also because of Observant- and politics-shaped problems. And, Clockwork had admitted to Danny, sometime Clockwork left him somewhere because he was supposed to be there.

The first rule was to lay low. Avoid people when possible, except to acquire basic necessities. Avoid major events, crowds, protests, and cameras. Avoid important-looking buildings.

Do not offer help unless asked first, or unless the person is a ghost. There was, evidently, a loophole that made it okay for Danny to interact with ghosts even in places where it wasn’t okay for him to do the same to humans. Clockwork had said ghosts fell under Danny’s ‘jurisdiction,’ a term that seemed just a bit too weighty with meaning for Danny. As for being allowed to help when asked… Well, Clockwork knew that Danny was incapable of not helping. Although he did ask that Danny be subtle and indirect about it.

He was also not supposed to fight anyone unless he himself was directly attacked, for similar reasons.

The fourth rule was to stay within the accepted rules of the world he found himself in, where possible. In other words, if people generally didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, don’t challenge that belief by using his powers in public, but if superpowers were common, it was okay to use them.

The fifth was that, if he found himself in the past, leave civilized areas. With the threat of unpersoning himself hanging over his head, Danny took that one very seriously.

The sixth, the one that made Danny feel like a little kid despite his real age, was, if the previous rule didn’t apply, try to stay in the same general area he first found himself in.

There were others, of course, and special ones for special circumstances. For example, if he was captured by law enforcement, or injured, or actively in danger, or if he didn’t know what time period he was in. Different sets of rules prevailed if he was actually on a mission.

Clockwork had also told him that the rules no loner applied if it took him more than two weeks to find Danny. That, if he’d been waiting for that long, something had gone wrong, or Clockwork was unable to find him or pull him out.

It had been just under half that time, and Danny was starting to get worried. More worried.

He pulled his legs up, closer to himself. He didn’t need to conserve warmth, being what he was, but the action was comforting and the abandoned warehouse he was in was weird and creepy.

This whole timeline was weird and creepy. Also, semi-apocalyptic. They were going through some serious societal upheaval. Danny wasn’t entirely sure why, having only been here for six days, but he was pretty sure it had to do with the nascent ghosts partially overshadowing people and giving them power.

At least, that’s what it felt like. Danny wasn’t sure. The next nearest thing to this he’d ever encountered was a warlock, and that had been just one person. Ghosts were under his jurisdiction, but, like the warlock, the people with powers here didn’t quite feel like ghosts, and he wasn’t sure how trustworthy news sources saying that metahumans were all soulless degenerates were…

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to find out. Hopefully, Clockwork would pick him up before another week went by.

He didn’t think the government here could actually catch him, but some of the things they apparently did to metahumans made his core ache. It was a very X-Men-like situation. Except, well, set in Japan.

Why Japan?

But! Eight more days. Tops. Clockwork would get him.

Before he’d finished the thought, something blew the door of the warehouse in and a ropelike appendage hurtled towards Danny’s corner.

He reacted. Rules were, if someone attacked him, he could respond in kind, and if superpowers were common knowledge, he could use his.

There were at least a dozen of them, all of them displaying an eclectic array of superpowers, some reminiscent of Danny’s ghostly enemies, others entirely novel to him. A fair few also had guns. One man even used multiple powers. Needless to say, the battle was incredibly one sided.

In Danny’s favor.

Hey, he’d been doing this for years, and he was very comfortable with his abilities. Most of these guys weren’t. Most. The multiple-power guy had been challenging.

Danny examined his captives. He should probably just knock them out, then go find a new hideout somewhere else, but he wanted to know why he was attacked, first.

“So,” he said, deciding that the curly-haired man with multiple powers was probably the leader, given the way the battle had been structured, “why did you and your goons attack me?”

“I heard you were like me,” growled the man, attempting to escape Danny’s telekinetic hold. “I’m looking for a power that can help my brother.”

Danny twitched slightly at the word help. “What do you mean, like you?”

“You can take powers, too,” said the man, staring up at Danny with desperate, hungry, red eyes.

Danny blinked, frowned. “You thought I could help you, or your brother, so you attacked me?” His frown became deeper. “Or did you attack me to, what, steal my powers?”

The man squirmed.

It was. That was such a ridiculous villain cliché, although the brother thing was a twist. People could get desperate about their families and do terrible things.

Including Danny. As had been proven many, many times.

His heart and stance both softened. This counted as a request for help, right? And the guy was sort of ghostly. On the other hand… Transplanting whatever it was giving these people powers willy-nilly couldn’t be healthy, especially if it was related to ghosts.

(Multiple ghosts in one body… It reminded him of his dark future self, which was never good.)

“Okay,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright. What exactly does your brother need help with?”

The man clearly hadn’t expected Danny to ask this question. “He’s sick,” he said. His eyes gleamed at the edge of tears. “His body is tearing itself apart, DNA molecule by DNA molecule. If I could just find the right ability, I could save him,” the man’s voice broke, “I knowit.”

Molecule by molecule, huh?

Actually… that was something Danny could help with. Crud. People had powers here, right? He was being asked for help, wasn’t he? He was staying within the rules. Especially seeing as these guys were like warlocks. He was only doing warlock stuff.

“If I help you with this—if,” he stressed when the man perked up. “If I help you with this, I need two things from you. Well, three, really. Actually, no, four.”

“Name them,” declared the man.

“Yeah, I was about to,” said Danny. “Anyway, first, you need to ask your brother if he wants this. If he doesn’t, you have to come back here and return it. Asap. As in, tomorrow.” He was pretty sure he could get Clockwork to give him a day, even if he came to pick Danny up right now.

“Those are your first two conditions, then?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Third one is, you have to stop taking powers from people who don’t give you permission. The end of that road isn’t pretty.” At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. All those little maybe-ghosts, slammed together… Even if it didn’t have any immediate effect on this guy’s personality, the resulting ghost could wind up possessing him. If the ghost vaguely wanted to go with him, that might change things. Maybe. At least, it’d slow things down.

If this worked the way he thought it did.

The man scowled. “And you know this, how?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, you’rethe one who said I was like you, not me. Too much of these powers can mess you up.”

“If the number is the problem, it shouldn’t matter how I take them.”

“Do you ever get bad dreams?”

The man stilled completely. “What do you know about that?”

Danny shrugged. “Enough,” he said. “Do you want to be overwhelmed by your powers? Do you want to explode? It could happen.” Actually, Danny had no idea if it could happen or not. But it sounded good. “More importantly, do you want to help your brother or not?”

“Of course I do!”

“Great!” said Danny, clapping his hands together. “Let’s finish this up somewhere privately, okay?” He grabbed the man’s shoulder and phased them through the floor into the basement, which he lit with a ball of ectoplasm. “Okay,” he said. “Fourth thing.”

The man was staring at the ectoplasm with undisguised curiosity. “What is it? Money? A new identity? Passage out of the country?”

“Uh, no,” said Danny. What would he do with any of that, after all? “I need to know the full story behind you and your brother.”

“What? Why? Don’t you know enough?”

“So that I can be sure that I can help, first off. Also, the way I’d be doing it involved me giving you something rather personal, so…” He trailed off with a gesture that indicated he expected the man to talk.

He sighed. “My name is Shigaraki Hisashi. My brother’s name is Kazuki, and he’s been sick since we were children…”

Danny let him give a summary of his life up until this point. He had the vague feeling that he wasn’t being told everything of importance, but, then, not everything about a person’s life could be condensed into an hour or so of storytelling.

Apparently Hisashi had basically raised Kazuki, and once Hisashi’s meta power had come in as a young adult, they’d been completely abandoned by their parents. Hisashi had put together a group of freedom fighters (Danny skeptically recalled the guns, but also forced himself to remember the hints that there might be something like concentration camps for power users) to defend himself, his brother, and others with power. But Kazuki’s illness made him incredibly vulnerable, and as he was Hisashi’s one major weakness…

The feeling that he was living through an ‘X-Men Japan’ comic intensified. He felt so sorry for this guy. Danny knew what this kind of life was like.

“Alright,” he said, softly, finally, “I can help. And, this probably doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but that better world you were talking about? Where people with powers and people without can coexist? I think you’ll be able to make it happen. Just don’t let anyone stop you.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Danny nodded. “I can give you something to help your brother. A power,” he clarified. “But I need you to know, it could change him.”

“Change him?”

“His personality.”

“You were saying something about that before. Forgive me if I don’t agree with you. These powers are tools.”

“Okay, sure, but even just having more options can influence how a person behaves. Just warn him before you give it to him, okay?”

“Of course. I’m a man of my word, after all.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Give me your hand.”

“A handshake?” asked Hisashi.

“Not exactly.”

Danny let a minuscule, almost microscopic, piece of his core break free from the whole. It hurt like a knife to the chest, and some of his physical and mental abilities would be impaired for a while, but he had done it before, and it would heal before long. A fragment this size would give a power on par with those he’d seen so far in this world. It would also grow, of course, but it was unlikely for any human to live long enough for that to become a problem.

He let it pass into Hisashi, and the man shivered.

“That should strengthen his body without being too much of a burden on him,” said Danny.

“What kind of power is it?” asked Hisashi, reclaiming his hand and flexing his fingers.

“Uh,” said Danny, casting about for something vague that would fit. “A gradual stockpile of power. That enhances the user’s body.” That should be close enough. “Remember, ask first.”

“I will, I will,” assured Hisashi one more time. “And you can be sure I’ll be returning regardless, to thank you.”

“Uh huh.”

It took a while for Hisashi and his men to clear out. Longer still for Danny to find a new place to sleep. But he did.

He woke to a time medallion around his neck and Clockwork’s exasperated expression. “Daniel,” he said, “what did you do?”

.

Toshinori and Izuku stared at Danny with open mouths.

“You’re the original stockpile user?” yelled Izuku, pointing.

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Surprise?”

[dahniwitchoflight]

man, a lot been happening on the internet lately, talking about content creators and parasocial relationships being a big topic recently

I almost don’t wanna post anything about it, cuz I’m not sure how to avoid any sort of stirring of the pot, but there’s an angle to this situation that I think a lot of people are confused about, and that’s “where does the fault lie when a person gets hurt in a parasocial relationship?”

And people I guess are thinking this is some sort of case of power dynamic’s, but I think thinking of it in these terms is incorrect to be perfectly honest

does a content creator seem to have a lot of sway over someone who’s fallen into a parasocial relationship with them? sure it can seem that way

but is that the content creator’s fault? No, as bad as that sounds to the tumblr crowd

this is NOT the power dynamic between an abusive father and their child, or a skeezy boss and their secretary, or any other real abusive power dynamic where the victim faces some sort of real consequence for not being compliant with the abuser’s wishes

this is the dynamic between a casino and someone with a gambling addiction.

can you argue that the gambling addiction/parasocial relationship wouldn’t exist without the casino/creator existing? sure you can

can you argue that it’s within the interests of the casino/content creator to get customers and fans? absolutely

but can you also say that the problem in the situation here is inherent to the person with the actual addiction problem here? someone who gets too invested in the scenario through their own desires and or addiction problems? That many people can go to a casino or be a fan of a person in a perfectly reasonable healthy amount and never get hurt or encounter any issues? Yeah

Even if you dislike the casino/creator and have hard feelings for putting you into a situation where you believed you were gonna win it all, even though the odds of that happening were never in your favor, and rightfully feel you’ve been victimized by them, the casino/creator existing and doing there thing I really don’t believe is the thing at fault here

I think there’s something to the idea that people who are vulnerable to addictions like gambling and thinking that theyll win the jackpot of millions against impossible odds is not too dissimilar from a singular fan of some content creator thinking, this is it, I’m the one theyll fall in love with over everyone else, against all the odds itll be me

and also whatever prevents them from realizing that the consequences of losing would apply to them as well, other people in the casino might lose all their savings, but it wont happen to me. Other people might get lost in the fantasy and then end up being dumped, but it wont be me

I think the brain juice would see these as very similar situations, and this addiction angle I think explains a lot for how people get into parasocial relationships in the first place and why they feel like it’s so hard to get out 

but people are still free to believe that casino’s/content creators are morally corrupt institutions, just from their nature of the fact that their livelihood depends on people and fans crowding to their type of entertainment

At the end of the day, they cannot control what their fans are going to do, they can’t read the minds of anyone who chooses to come to their establishment, they can’t know at a glance or through conversation who’s going to get addicted and who isn’t, they can only see warnings signs after the fact and then damage control, it’s just a messy reality of life that it happens

There are best practices to prevent these types of things sure but those don’t catch every case and inevitably there are going to be people who fall through the cracks anyway

the correct approach here is to mitigate the addiction problem. that’s the real thing at fault here, not any one person

so to answer the question, where does the fault lie when someone gets hurt in a parasocial relationship?

you might be a victim yes, but not a victim of the casino, as much as it can feel like that, your a victim of an unfortunate affliction

people can be dismissive and yell all they want about alcoholics being drunks, or gamblers having no spine and should just be able to not go to a casino, or people who are overinvested fans should just be able to stop back and not care about a creator so much, but I understand that it’s not that easy

but it still doesn’t make it the fault of whatever you got addicted to, It doesn’t make it anyone’s fault, and the casino/creator has less power over an addicted individual than you think, short of banning them entirely, there isn’t much they can do from their end to mitigate an individual’s behavior, I think that is something some people need to hear, I hope people don’t think I’m callous or believe that people weren’t genuinely hurt by the events that happened to them or something

but the fix to this problem doesn’t lie on the casino’s/creator’s end, it lies in mitigating the addictive disorder in the individual’s in particular’s end

this is purely speaking from someone who runs a blog and has thoughts for a fandom that once upon a time a lot of people seem really invested in, (not so much nowadays lol) 

I cannot control anyone of you, I don’t know any one of you, no matter how much I might try or get close or how close any person out there gets to me, I still can’t predict when I might encounter someone who seems overly starstruck, and in no way do I have the ability to navigate those kinds of relationships properly. I simply do not have that sort of therapeutic training and I think it’s a little bit unreasonable for people to expect that from me, despite how charismatic or not I seem like

I just have indeed had instances where another person got really overinvested in “Dahni Witch of Light”  and wanted to be in my inner circle of socialness and friends and might have been hurt when I declined that, but at the same time, I can’t do anything about that  (thankfully I’m not any sort of real popular LOL and it’s only really happened like once or twice, that I know of, since they made their feelings clear to me in private, but that’s still one or two people that might have gotten hurt)

So what does this all have to do with stuff?

I’ve read all the anecdotes about both Dan Avidan and Vinny Vinesauce, read all the docs, see all these people’s point of view, and yeah it sucks that they got hurt by the circumstances, but all that stuff meant to paint these people in a bad light? did more to me to paint them in a really good light

I saw nothing but people making sure they had the comfort and consent of everything they were involved in, doing best practices when it comes to relationships, talking about their feelings, about their expectations and also doing what they can to protect themselves and their privacy

again the worst things I saw about either of them, is danny building up the fantasy of being with a rockstar a bit too much, egging on any potential parasocial relationship issues that might have already existed, and vinny giving someone HPV (which, is debunked in of itself because that’s not how HPV works in men, even outside of vinny that’s just not how it works.)

the rest of all the stuff I saw esp in the vinny doc, was people not even accusing vinny of saying or doing anything wrong either, but miles and miles of “I assumed he was thinking x” or ”I assumed he was feeling y” and no attempts to communicate with him about any issues they had with him, because they felt awkward doing so, and instead let it fester inside them until they got hurt by it

this is not sexual assault, their mild discomfort about stuff never even happened over sexual topics, just bland things like him over-venting to them sometimes or having lowkey mental issues like being paranoid a little, this is not even being intentionally hurt by someone,  this is being bad at communicating with your partner and letting yourself endure a relationship you weren’t actually happy with, because you didn’t want to get dumped by the person you were invested in

and if you feel like you can’t honestly communicate with your partner, not because of anything they did to you, but because of your own internal conflict over how famous he is, and feeling like you’re forced to endure things you aren’t vibing with in a personal relationship

(mind you, I mean the things they said they endured in the doc which was, they didn’t like when vinny would get ranty about his friends or previous sexual encounters he had that went bad or they got weirded out because they thought he was too paranoid about stuff when they were together....which... okay so like tell him you don’t want to hear about that stuff? communicate your problems to your partner? end of story? you never even attempted that, you never even gave examples of things you thought he would do to you other than dump you if you spoke up...... which, I’m sorry, but that’s not some sort of consequence a victim faces from their abuser.... so you can’t even say he would have had a bad reaction, especially when you give examples of him doing exactly the opposite, apologizing for things that made other people uncomfortable WHEN theyve actually communicated to him that they were uncomfortable with it)

 -Those are signs that you are too overinvested and too parasocially invested with a person to have an honest relationship with them

like, heck these things aren’t even unique to partnerships, you should be able to communicate when anyone around you is making you uncomfortable, even friends, but if you can’t and the only reason you can’t is because of a parasocial investment in that person, that’s not healthy on your end

Danny sure seems to have been a little bit at fault for building up the fantasy of catching feelings for a famous dude when he intended one night stands, is that the best way to have navigated the situation? No probably not, but to a person who doesn’t have a parasocial relationship with him, this behavior would just be disappointing when the fantasy fizzled out, it’s not inherently harmful

after that point, if after the fact a person who had any sort of interaction with them felt hurt by the experience, there honestly is not much more a content creator could have done to mitigate that, in fact Vinesauce I think seems at least more aware of the parasocial thing and tried more strongly to vet the people he was with to not be those kind of people, but again people aren’t mind readers and nothing will ever be foolproof like that, and I guess some people even took him trying to vet that kind of behavior as hurtful in and of itself, (they took him venting about previous parasocial relationships he had and how paranoid and upsetting they were to him, and took it as some sort of threat against them personally, like they were trying to mindgame what exactly he was telling them, assuming he was saying something else that he wasn’t, which, is assumptions that live entirely in their own minds) but I’m just sitting here like, what else could they have done?

I get that people who had sexual relationships with these people could come away feeling really awful about it, feeling manipulated or duped in some way, but what else could have been done to prevent that from happening other than the people in question just, never interacting with anyone? Which is not a realistic solution, and doesn’t fix the problem of the victim in question moving on and getting starstruck by someone else and having it happen it all over again

If these people want to make friends, want to make relationships with anyone, want to have casual sex, want to have any sort of human connection, there unfortunately gonna have to sort the people they encounter into two different groups, people who have parasocial relationships with them and people who don’t, (and this is NOT people are fans of them and people who are not, you can be a fan and not get caught into the parasocial thing) and it is impossible to get this correct in every single individual social experience that theyre gonna have with every single individual human being, regardless if it’s a sexual relationship or not

in conclusion, I really do hope the people who were hurt by all this can truly heal and move on eventually from this, in no way am I trying to lessen their experiences, but I really don’t think other people deserved to be hung from the gallows over this, it’s no one person’s fault, neither the fan’s or the content creator’s, it’s just a messy interpersonal situation

I believe the correct thing to do is spread awareness about the warnings signs that you might be falling into a parasocial relationship, more effort needs to be put into what this looks like, what it feels like, how to avoid it, how to mitigate it, and how to regulate the very real feelings of love and affection someone might have for a person they see all the time in media but don’t have a real connection with, with the understanding of yeah, if you really can’t enter a casino without losing your life savings, a very real conversation needs to be had if you should even be entering these casino’s/watching their content at all

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

I have said a Lot about the “Raph is a system” theory over the past several months, so this is something of a compilation post. It’s got some new stuff, it’s got some old stuff. (You’re reading Part 1) (Part 2 is here) (Part 3 is here)

---

Firstly, “system” is the term for someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID. (The term can also apply to some folks with OSDD.) Someone might develop DID after experiencing long-term trauma at an early age- roughly five or six years old. To paraphrase the DSM-V:

1. We’ve seen three (possibly four) distinct personality states who speak, act, and perceive others differently.

2. The personality states, or “alters”, don’t necessarily share memory, and Donnie insinuated in “The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle” that Raph has a bad memory in general.

3. Problems arise when alters don’t get along or aren’t on the same page. That none of them seem to be quite aware they’re a system doesn’t help either; it’s hard to work on communication and cooperation when you don’t know they need to be worked on!

4. This whole situation isn’t a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice, or just Raph playing make-believe. (Though I wonder if he had “imaginary friends” when he was younger...)

5. It’s also not because Raph’s been smoking the devil’s lettuce or whatever. “Pizza Puffs” was one long weed joke and he was the only one “sober” (not poisoned) throughout! We don’t see this happen to other mutants, so it’s not a bizarre side effect of mutagen either.

(I’ve seen a few people joke that Mikey has “multiple personalities”, but that’s a tad yikesy and also just plain incorrect. His “doctor” personas are something he does deliberately, and youngest siblings are just Like That.)

So yeah, Raph is pretty heavily DID-coded. We’ve seen four alters so far:

“Host” Raph (HR): He’s our everyday Raph. A “host” is an alter who fronts most of the time and takes care of “business as usual” situations. They are often unaware of past traumatic events, such that they can appear “normal”. (Ex: the host of a child who lives with an abusive parent could be unaware of the abuse. Otherwise, they might cry or be uncooperative whenever the parent is near, further invoking their wrath. This unawareness allows them to be a “good child”, and stay under the parent’s radar sometimes.) Some systems have more than one host, but that the others have shown up so rarely in this story suggests HR is the only host (for now?).

Savage Raph (SR): Debuting in “Man vs. Sewer”, he’s a survival-oriented alter. HR probably could have defeated the Sando Brothers on his own under normal circumstances, but being in the middle of a breakdown doesn’t do much for your fighting skills. SR got pulled to the front to deal with them instead.

“Red” Raph (RR): “Red” is just a placeholder since we don’t actually know his name yet (or even if he has one, not all alters do), though I’ve also heard folks call him “Angel”. He’s got a “tough love” approach to problem-solving, which was probably a helpful thing in the past. LDM were no doubt rowdy children! We were (officially) introduced to him in “Pizza Puffs”.

Mind Raph (MR): MR could just be a manifestation of HR's thought process via Cartoon Goofery, but that possibility doesn’t give me anything to work with so I’m ignoring it. He’s pretty similar to HR, maybe a tad more upbeat. We (officially) met him in “Raph’s Ride-Along”.

When “Pizza Puffs” first aired, I was like “ah yes, this is the alter who has the cranky edgelord tendencies we’ve seen in previous iterations of Raph. He probably broods on rooftops in the rain when he’s in a bad mood.” Combining that with the whole “Red Angel” thing gives off some Batman vibes. And, of course, SR is similar to the Hulk. Those two heroes are pretty different, but they do have one major thing in common...

A sudden, violent loss. Given how prevalent rushing water is throughout “Man vs. Sewer”, I’m thinking a flood came through and separated Raph from his family. (You could probably argue that turbulent water symbolizes a turbulent subconscious? 🤷) Again, DID stems from long-term trauma, so Raph must have been gone for... a while. A couple of months, maybe more? It’s hard to say exactly; we have a little wiggle room when applying human developmental psychology to a human/turtle mutant. Since Splinter still needed to care for the other three, he wouldn’t have been able to devote much time to searching for Raph, and the New York City sewers go on for miles and miles. The longer Raph was alone, the more convinced he would have been that the others had drowned and he was the only survivor.

How old would he have been? I know the turtles are “different ages”, but they were all mutated at the same time so I’m pretty sure Splinter was just like “the littlest one is the youngest, the biggest one is the oldest, and the medium-sized ones are the middle children.” They’re all probably fourteenish by “Finale”. Back in “MvS”, Leo said, “You know how savage Raph gets when he’s alone”. He didn’t say anything like, “You know how savage Raph gets when he’s alone ever since such-and-such an incident happened”. This suggests that LDM straight-up don’t know something traumatic happened to Raph; they were too little to retain concrete memories of that time. In their minds, Raph has always been like this. Draxum isn’t known for his patience, so even though he wasn’t able to immerse the hatchlings in mutagen for long, they probably mature a bit faster than humans. And since humans usually can’t remember anything from before four years of age, three sounds about right for the turtles, though they would have been stronger and steadier on their feet than any human toddler. I doubt Raph would have survived otherwise.

I think he’s sort of... “stuck” back in that trauma. Catching food, building a fire, making a weapon, and getting camouflage aren’t the behaviors of someone who’s only been gone for a few minutes.

When SR called for help, I don’t think he was expecting anyone to answer.

But Raph did manage to hang onto something as he was swept away! It wasn’t much, but that little ragdoll gave him comfort while he was scared and alone.

(The rabbit design on Bruce’s pajamas is probably a coincidence, but...)

Raph seems the type to have sympathy for odd-looking toys. His knockoff Mrs. Cuddles plushie was the emotional crutch he needed back then.

And then he was separated from that as well. Lowkey associating Mrs. Cuddles with this traumatic event would explain why HR was so scared of her. That he doesn’t remember the trauma means he has no context for this fear, making it seem silly and baseless to him (and to the rest of his family), which is why he denied being scared at all in the first part of the “Mrs. Cuddles” episode. It would also explain why he collects teddy bears instead these days, they are a “safe” toy. (The moral of the story is to not make fun of triggers that seem silly.)

(I wonder what would happen if Mrs. Cuddles encountered Savage Raph? Perhaps he’d be quite sympathetic towards such a lonely little raggedy thing! Timestuck as he is, he probably wouldn’t question why a stuffed animal can talk... and it wouldn't be hard for her to persuade her “new bestest fwiend” to get rid of some “mean ol’ nasty sewew monstews” for her.)

That whole “sewer monsters” thing suggests Raph ran into... something while he was wandering alone. Y’all have heard those rumors about alligators living in the New York City sewers, right? Encountering Leatherhead could trigger a flashback.

It would be pretty easy to introduce Leatherhead into the narrative. One of the episodes the Rise crew had planned was titled “The Island of Dr. Noe”, and alligators have very impressive teeth. The Mirage comics had a story where Leatherhead and several cryptids were brought to an island to be hunted for sport.

Noe seems to have quite a few cronies/friends/rivals he could entertain this way. Since he’s got that obsession with Raph, Noe captures him as well, knocking him out with those darts so he can’t waste his energy trying to escape too soon. (Let’s just assume everyone’s powers are glitchy because they all hit another wave of puberty, meaning they can’t just curbstomp the lower-level villains lol.)

HR wakes up on the island and, of course, starts to panic because he’s lost and alone. While wandering, he runs into Leatherhead, which would trigger a flashback to getting attacked by that alligator all those years ago. But Leatherhead doesn’t want to fight! He’s just as scared and confused as HR is, and could really use a partner to help him survive this island.

HR and SR come into conflict because Leatherhead is/isn’t/is/isn’t/is/isn’t a threat. HR eventually wins out, reasoning that even if Leatherhead is that alligator, it wouldn’t be fair to judge him for what he did back when he was an animal.

But time and dissociation can make memories unclear. That our first look at Leatherhead was in Draxum’s “bluh bluh I’m gonna mutate all the humans” bit in “Bug Busters” means he’s a human-base mutant. He wasn’t the alligator back then, but the hunter tracking it. Leatherhead isn’t one of Noe’s targets, he is one of Noe’s guests! And he wants no one to interfere with his quarry, so he’ll play nice long enough for him and the snapper to take out the rest of the hunters and the freaks. Then the two of them will have the island all to themselves...

Years and years ago, Jack Marlin was a big game hunter prowling the New York City sewers in search of an alligator. He did manage to find and kill one, only to realize it had also been hunting! He had inadvertently saved the strangest little turtle creature.

Marlin had become too skilled at this point, the hunt held no challenge for him. This turtle sounded very young, and he was quite big and strong already. An adult could be tough and intelligent enough to entertain him. Marlin tried to get Raph to lead him back to “the others”. But Raph had been lost for some time, and as far as he knew, his family was dead. Hearing that put Marlin in quite the sour mood. A little mutant snapper is a better catch than none at all, so Marlin tried to haul Raph off. Raph fought back and bit off Marlin’s hand. He escaped, but lost his rabbit in the scuffle. Marlin retreated as well, taking some time to recover, scheme, and hunt other game. (And to pocket that rabbit. The blood loss had made him woozy, and he wanted to have some kind of proof he hadn’t just hallucinated the snapper.) Perhaps he turned that alligator’s hide into a vest, which provided the genetic material for his mutation when he eventually got bit by an oozesquito. Like his Mirage counterpart, Marlin didn’t take losing a limb as a sign he should retire, and instead got a tricked-out prosthetic. Who knows what he could do with it in such a mystic setting as Rise.

Raph eventually reunited with his family, but those distrustful, high-strung survivalist traits he had picked up weren’t helpful anymore. He once again had to be the good and patient big brother who didn’t bite when someone play-tackled him or shook him awake at three in the morning because they’d had a nightmare. Those two states gradually got partitioned off more and more, and now they know little, if anything, about each other.

So Leatherhead and HR are chasing away some mothmen or whatever, and things are going pretty well... until one of them knocks Leatherhead over and a familiar ragdoll rabbit falls out of his pocket. SR realizes that Leatherhead is Marlin and switches in to fight him off again. They’re evenly matched, or perhaps SR is even in danger of losing, when LDM arrive to provide support. Leatherhead is enough of a tactician to know that he should retreat. Donnie and Mikey pursue him while Leo stays behind, placing the rabbit in his stunned brother’s hands. “Remember when Pops made this for you? You were always really gentle with it, ‘cause he wasn’t good at sewing back then...”

(This thing really needs patching up, he’s got sewing stuff for whenever he needs to fix his bears/Blue isn’t a threat on his own/Wasn’t he just back at the lair?/Blue gave back the rabbit/Why does he feel like he got hit by a train?/Blue doesn’t want to fight?/ ...Leo?) And that’s enough for HR to switch back in. He’s probably missing memory from his whole time on the island, so while Leo does his best to tell him what happened, they don’t have enough puzzle pieces between them to truly figure out what's going on.

They defeat the bad guys, release the cryptids, save the day, etc. (Leatherhead managed to lose Donnie and Mikey in the woods. A battle for another day.) Once they return to the lair, HR gets help from Draxum to modify the memory spell from “E-Turtle Sunshine” so he can try to fill in the gaps. Surely he wouldn’t get rejected by his own subconscious... right?

Cue part three in the saga of Raph Punches Himself In The Face. SR isn’t happy that HR is essentially trying to poke at an improperly-healed wound, and attempts to chase him off. HR assumes that SR is just a psychic white blood cell like the Lou Jitsu constructs in Splinter’s mind, and retaliates.

But, of course, fighting is not the answer here. All that accomplishes is giving the body bruises. Eventually HR realizes “stay away” and “back off” are a little different than “get out”, and that SR is just scared. So HR tries another tactic. Over the following days and weeks, he tunes in to calmer memories and just sort of... talks. About what happened yesterday, about his teddy bear collection, about how he finally managed to get a good picture of that pizza pigeon. It takes a while to establish a connection, and even then, it’s spotty at best. Using the spell too much can cause headaches and nightmares. There are days when SR is nearby, and days when he’s not there at all. But he shows up when he can.

And then there’s awkward, stilted conversation and questions neither of them know how to answer and questions neither of them want to answer and more scrapes and bruises and strained silences and apologies, but they finally, finally reach a compromise. SR still doesn’t let HR near those memories, but he tells HR what happened as best he can. (The audience would see those memories, with SR as a voiceover.) Afterwards, HR still visits the mindscape that’s starting to become more solid. They talk some more, they watch light and shadow flow around them, they listen to half-forgotten lullabies on scratchy old cassette tapes. Eventually, HR doesn’t even need to use the memory spell, meditation is enough.

They’ll never get along all the time. But it’s a start.

(SR is going to be so clingy when it finally clicks for him when he finally lets himself believe that his family is alive.)

---

This took eight million years lmao. Parts 2 and 3 will come out eventually, they’ll focus more on MR and RR. Let me know if I need to tag this stuff as anything.

The usual disclaimer applies, I am not a system or a mental health professional so if you’re one or both of those things then feel free to give me some of that good good constructive criticism.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for mermay, 9 indruck nsfw?

Here you go! #9 was folklore, Indrid’s design is based on a blue-ring Octopus, and I borrowed from one of the Discord convos we had about mer Indrid recently.

Content note: there is implied transphobia/misgendering in the reason Duck ends up in the water.

Duck goes to the depths still protesting, hands and ankles bound in rope and dark water closing over his head. 

No amount of insisting he was the man he said he was or appealing to logic was enough; a woman aboard, even when he isn’t a woman, is bad luck and must be gotten rid off. So here he is, drowning for the sake of superstition, folklore and nonsense the reason his lungs scream in protest, denied air. 

Whoever said drowning was like falling asleep was a damn liar; he’s in agony, reduced to his most basic state of a creature that wants to stay alive and cursed with the knowledge that he won’t. He shuts his eyes, as if that might make it more dreamlike, and circles past him, he feels fingers on his cheek and then, and then....

Then he’s waking up, chest rising and falling with ease. No more than a nightmare, then, he’s still on the ship-

No, wait, his blanket is floating where he kicked it away. He’s alive, he’s in some sort of bedroom, and he’s fucking confused.

Voices float in under the door, a lilting one reaching him first, “...most stubborn set of legs I ever encountered. A kiss is supposed to be enough, yet while his body can survive in our realm, it insists on remaining like itself.”

“Indrid, his majesty is going to be unhappy when he finds out.”

“I am aware, Vincent. And if my brother finds a drowning man, he may rescue him or not as he sees fit. He does not get to dictate my conscious.”

“I mean, I think you did the right thing” A woman’s voice now, “but he’s still pretty angry at you for the whole giving me legs incident.”

“You wanted to see your beloved, and I am almost as fond of Aubrey as I am of you. A charm that allows you to go between worlds is hardly cause for such a fuss.”

“It was the no-voice thing that bothered him.”

A sigh, “Time and again I have reminded him that strong magic comes with a price. In your case it was easily paid, because Aubrey recognized you instantly and kissed you. As if I would send my own niece into a situation where she might be trapped.” The last sentence is muttered, like the speaker knows no one will listen.

“I know that. That’s why you're my favorite uncle.”

“I am your only uncle” the smile is audible, “and I am just glad the two of you will be married soon. Now if you will excuse me, my foresight tells me my guest is awake.”

A door opens and shuts, and a moment later the curtain of kelp at the end of the room parts. Duck’s never believed in mermaids (or mermen), but that’s what swims to him now, human face and torso giving way to eight silvery tentacles dotted with deep blue rings. They’re almost as striking as his face, his features sharp and alien, crowned with silver-white hair. 

“Hello” The mer smiles with sharp teeth, “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, not as confused as I could be on account of what I heard, but still tryin to work out why the fuck you saved me at all.”

“Three reasons: for starters, I dislike having corpses floating around the kingdom. I also do not see the point in having the power of foresight if I cannot use it to prevent suffering when possible. And finally I…” The calm smile on his face falters a moment, “I saw the moments that lead to your being thrown into the waves. You were condemned for being something you are not. I, ah, I could not let such an injustice come to pass.” His mask remakes itself, “and so here you are, Duck Newton.”

“And the kiss?” Duck raises his eyebrow.

“Ah, yes. If a mer kisses a dying human, that human will become a mer themselves. Except in your case, you have-”

“-Stubborn legs?”

A light laugh, “And here I thought I would be the one interrupting you. Yes, exactly. I have no idea why. I’m simply glad the magic worked well enough to help you breathe. There is a, ah, an issue however. My visions show that in your current state, you will not be able to survive on land.”

“But you said somethin about a charm to your, uh, niece?”

“That worked because it simply had to take her from mermaid to human; you’re stuck between forms in a way that, were I to apply the same approach to you it would end badly. As in accidentally turn you into a fish badly, at least in most timelines.”

“Huh” Duck worries the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “so I’m stuck here.”

“Indeed. I’m sorry.” Indrid sits on the foot of the bed, tentacles moving this way and that to fidget with the blankets, the bedposts, and the stray shells on the floor, “This has never happened before, and I did not mean to trap you in this way, I only meant to save you, to give you freedom.”

“That’s more than a lot of folks’ve tried to give me lately.” Tentatively, he touches the tentacle tip nearest him. It weaves between his fingers, the pressure from the suckers on the underside oddly pleasant. He rubs his thumb over a blue spot, which draws Indrid’s attention. His face goes pink and he pulls the tentacle back.

“Apologies, they have a mind of their own at times.”

“Don’t bother me. I, uh, I was just tryin to show you I ain’t mad. Feel a little adrift, but that’s a damn sight better then bein’ dead.”

“Adrift--OH, oh I see, you are going to say you do not know what to do now. The answer is heal; even though you are alive, your body and mind suffered before I saved you. You need rest and care, and I promise you shall want for neither. You are my honored guest, Duck Newton. My home is yours. I, ah, I would offer to let you leave the instant you are feeling able, but as you heard there are some issues with you being seen in this state.”

“Used to layin low.” Duck sighs, flopping back on the bed (or trying to, as he floats down onto the mattress instead).

“I gathered. If I had things my way, you would not need to do such things here. Alas, until my brother gets eaten by a shark, we may be dealing with this arrangement for some time” he gestures to the room, bathed in blues and greens as light filters down from the surface and in through the windows. Two tentacles gather the blanket, spreading it back up Duck’s body and smoothing it down. 

“Rest now, Duck Newton. In the morning I will have much to show you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck wakes up clawing at the water above the bed, heart beating fast enough he fears it might eject itself up his throat. 

The nightmares a fewer these last two days, but whenever they want to be done for good is fine by him. 

He gathers seaweed green robe Indrid gave him and makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall. Indrid gave him a bracelet of cowrie shells that’s enchanted to let him walk without floating away. He’s a strong swimmer, but without a tail to aid him he tires quickly against the force of the water.

The merman’s house is huge, an attempt by the king to keep him happy without giving him any useful power. Most rooms are cluttered with etchings and drawings or items salvaged from wrecks or the shoreline. There are spare beds, but after the night where Duck awoke in a panic and could not calm down, where Indrid found him the next morning exhausted and shaking, the mer offered to sleep in the same room with him. Duck pointed out that it was technically Indrid’s bedroom anyway and he could sleep there if he wanted to. The mer dragged a variety of comfy pillows into the corner and declared he would be quite happy there. More than once Duck’s woken up first to see him sprawled out on the cushions, always clinging one against his chest. Duck wonders what would happen if he offered to take it’s place. He suspects he could  do so without issue. 

He’s no stranger to being admired, though the last time someone eyed him so approvingly he ran off to sea to avoid marrying them. Indrid’s red eyes contain the same desire but none of the entitlement. The merman’s been staring at him since that first day, though it’s only recently that he let’s Duck seem him doing so, after Duck caught his eye and stared right back. 

Teasing Indrid is more fun than he expected, because while the mer usually gives as good as he gets, some days he blushes and wiggles his tentacle tips under Ducks attention. Indrid is obviously high status and, in Duck’s view, the most captivating mer in the kingdom; making him go pinker than a virgin at a striptease from a little flirting is gratifying. 

His absolute favorite part of his new home, aside from Indrid, are the gardens at the center. Coral glistens and rainbows of fish flit across his path, sea flowers bloom and wave as he passes by. The best place to sit is in a massive clam shell with an excellent view of the grounds and the city beyond. It also happens to be Indrid’s preferred location to draw. 

The mer takes one look at him and extends a tentacle, guiding Duck down to nestle close to him. When they’re with arms reach, one hand leaves his drawing to pet Duck’s thigh soothingly. He tilts his head, intending to study the sketch and ask about it, but ends up with his head on Indrid’s shoulder, slipping back into sleep. 

“Oh dear.” Indrid murmurs, closing the book as a flurry of voices swim towards them. 

“So, the rumors are true; you’ve brought a human into our domain.”

“Good morning to you as well, dear brother.”

The king crosses his arms, glaring at them, “if you cannot provide a decent reason for your having him here, I will make exile him myself. Right now.” 

Indrid’s expression and voice remain calm, but one tentacle coils around Duck’s ankle and his hand clings to the loose trousers, “He, ah, he is, ah”

“I thought as much.” The king swims forward.

“Pet!” Indrid grins triumphantly, “he’s my pet. You keep saying you wish I would find a way to occupy my time and stay out of trouble, and here he is.” Indrid pulls Duck into his lap, patting his head with such exaggeration Duck has to stifle a laugh, “I have been so busy with him the last few weeks I’ve had little time for anything else. Isn’t that right, Vincent?”

Their friend nods, “Yes, your highness, the prince has found Du--, uh, the human most diverting.”

The king narrows his eyes, “Very well. The human may stay in that capacity.” With that, he swims from the gardens, trailed by his advisors. 

“I gotta start wearing a leash now?” Duck teases, realizing too late that he’d do so in an instant as long as Indrid was holding the other end. 

The blue of the rings deepens, “Not at all. Apologies for referring to you as my pet, but the timelines shifted so heavily in the direction of him casting you into the open sea that I panicked.”

“Aw, you lied to the kings face just for me. Must really like me.”

“I do! I, oh dear have I not made that clear?” Indrid gathers Duck’s hands between his own. 

“You have, I was just teasin you. I don’t mind playin your spoiled pet to get one over on him, provided you keep spoilin me.”

Indrid’s grin returns, “I’m certain I can manage that.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate it when he calls my bluffs.” Indrid glowers into the jeweled box just delivered to their doorstep. Right before Duck asks what’s wrong, the merman hands him a small piece of parchment. 

Prince Indrid, 

Included is a gift for your ‘pet,’ as you are apparently in need of it. It would be a shame for him to get lost, after all.

The note ends with the kings seal. Duck looks up as Indrid turns the box his way, revealing a collar studded with abalone shells and a leash woven from dark, sturdy seaweed. So many obscene images flood his mind it takes two tries before he can focus on Indrid’s words.

“...Thought I kept us clear of anyone who would bother to report us. I’m sure there’s a way around it, ruse aside you are my friend and equal and I will not ask you to humiliate yourself. Hmm, oh goodness, we will need to send word to Dani and Barclay that we cannot come to dinner to tonight, that’s not enough time to draw up a solution, though perhaps we can invite them here instead.” His tentacles trawl the ground as he paces the room.

“‘Drid?”

“Yes?” The mer stops, then his eyes widen, “you are serious?”

“Gotta let me offer first.” He replies with fond exasperation, “I fine with wearin it while we’re out. I know how you really feel about me and, uh, it, uh, makes me feel...safe?” It’s right on the border of a lie by omission, but he manages to get it out. 

“I see” Indrid swims casually towards him, as if that will distract Duck from the pink creeping up his cheeks, “in that case, may I put this on you, pet?”

“Uh huh.” Duck tilts his chin up, shuts his eyes with a happy sigh as Indrid latches the collar in place. The mer stays chest to chest with him, testing to be certain the collar is comfortable. 

“How is that?”

“Woof” Duck deadpans.

Indrid blinks, confused.

“It’s the noise a dog makes.”

Another blink.

“Y’know those things that are like sea lions but on four legs instead of flippers?”

“That’s what those are called. Fascinating.” Indrid loops the leash into place and Duck growls playfully. The mer pats his cheek, fingers lingering on his skin as he purrs, “good boy.”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Are you ready?” Indrid tips to vials of purple powder into a bowl, causing sweet smelling swirls of color to fill the room. 

“Yeah. Been ready for years.” Duck stands opposite from him, drumming his fingers nervously on the rim of the bowl. 

A week ago, Indrid asked in that blunt way of his if Duck wanted his human form to be different than it was. When he said yes, the mer immediately swam from the table and into the library to pull books from shelves. 

“It will take a few days to prepare; I am careful in all my spells but, well...well I suppose when it is you I am inclined to take even more care than usual.”

It’s not the spell that’s making his nerves bubble up his chest; it’s the component of it he has to contribute. A secret, a precious one, because powerful magic will not give something for nothing. 

“Whisper it into the foam.” Indrid gestures to the golden bubbles on the surface of the bowl. 

Duck keeps it short and sweet. Then blinding light surrounds him, pure white spiked through with pink and blue, and he collapses to the ground, unable to do anything but hold himself as the spell courses through him. When the colors fade and the room returns to view, it’s all he can do to make his legs stand. 

“How, ah, how do you feel?” Indrid taps his fingers together nervously, four of his tentacles following suite. 

“Like I got trampled by a horse and came out a new man.”

“Oh. Good.” The fidgeting intensifies. Duck can only think of one reason for that.

“‘Drid? Did, uh, did the spell mean you learned the secret?”

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you? What I said, I mean.”

“No.” 

A pulse of water, flourish of blue and silver, and Indrid’s lips find his. Arms and tentacles lift and hold him as they spin slowly across the room, the mer moaning when Duck drags his hands up his chest. He keeps kissing him as he speaks, mouth growing needier after every pause, “I, there were only a few timelines where you confessed your feelings for me and I, I wanted them so badly but I swore I would only act on your feelings if you used them in the spell, not simply because I saw futures where you might.” Tentacles slide under his shirt and up his pant-leg, “ohhhh, touching you in visions is nothing compared to feeling you for real.”

“Can feel me as much as you want, darlin. Got some things I wanna get my hands on too.” He tangles his fingers in Indrid’s hair, glides his mouth down to kiss his collarbone and tease a nipple with his tongue. 

“Oh my sweet little human, the things I am going to do to yo-”

The doorbell times and Indrid nearly drops him. 

“Damn it all, I forgot we were hosting game night.”

“Don’t worry ’Drid,” Duck pinches the base on one tentacle, “I ain’t goin anywhere, we can pick this up another time.”

----------------------------------------------------------

“I call that a success.” Indrid ushers Duck into the house. They’re returning from Aubrey and Dani’s engagement party (Indrid having provided Aubrey with a mer-charm of her own. As much as he loathes the idea, King Woodbridge has had to give the marriage his blessing; Dani is his only heir. If he disowns her, his throne passes to Indrid, a scenario he hates even more than a human/mer wedding. 

Duck wore his collar all evening in case one of the king’s toadies got it into their heads to tell on him. It also matches the clothing Indrid bought him exceedingly well, and he’s not ashamed he admired himself while passing the mirror. 

Indrid doffs his cloak as Duck closes the bedroom door, “You can remove that now my sweet.”

He leans against the carved driftwood, “And, uh, what if I don’t wanna?”

The mers hand pauses where it’s setting the leash on a table, “then I suggest you come here at once, pet.”

Not for the first time, Duck longs for a tail so he could speed through the water into Indrid’s arms. The mer is impatient as well, gives a wickedly charming grin as the lease whips out on it’s on to connect with the collar so he can yank Duck flush against him. 

“Better, but you are still not as I need you.” Keeping the leash wrapped around one hand, the other starts on the buttons of Duck’s shirt. The human tries to help, only for tentacles to trap his wrists together, “thoughtful, pet, but I do so enjoy unwrapping you myself.”

“‘Drid, pleaseplease hurry.”

“Manners, pet” A tentacle thwacks his ass just as two others pull his pants to the ground. 

“I said please” Duck laughs as Indrid nibbles his neck. 

“Is that sufficient for someone who spoils you as much as I?” Indrid flutters his eyelashes.

Duck bumps their noses together, “Please, ‘Drid, want you to fuck me, you take such good care of me, wanna take care of you right back, I’ll make you feel so good darlin please.”

“Much better”

His remaining clothing falls away. Out of habit, he moves to cover himself, only for his arms and legs to be pulled outwards, leaving him spread-eagle in Indrid’s hold. 

“Do not so much as think about hiding this perfect form from me, pet.” In the front folds between his tentacles, Indrid’s dick begins to emerge.

“Someone get off on admirin his handiwork?”

The smile softens, “I am admiring you, sweet one. You have the finest body I have ever laid eyes on; you did when we met, and you do now. I delight in holding it, touching it, these days I delight in seeing your comfort in your own skin.” A predatory glint returns to his eyes, “and of course, I like fucking you in it. In fact, that gives me an idea.”

Tentacles spin Duck in a half circle as Indrid swims to the mirror, meaning the human sees their reflections as the mer purrs in his ear, “I want you to see just how perfect you look on my cock, pet.”

“Jesusfuck, ‘Drid, yes” His own cock is hardening between his legs as small tendrils part and prod his ass; Indrid’s cock resembles a human one until it reaches it’s base, where the tendrils wait to push his partner further open or coax them to climax. They took some getting used to at first, cool and slick as the teased into Duck’s ass. Now he welcomes them, savors the tenderness with which they ready him. 

Indrid coos and purrs in his ear, chirping whenever his cock grinds between Duck’s cheeks. The hand not holding the leash caresses his face while the tentacles see to everything else. And he means everything

“Fuck!” One coils around his dick as another rubs gently at his balls. The first time they tried this they were cautious, unsure how human anatomy would respond to the pressure and suckers. In Duck’s case, the answer was “cum so hard and fast it takes them both by surprise.”  Indrid had taken one look at the cock with cum still beading at the head and swallowed it to the root, not relenting until Duck came a second time. 

“Ohhhnnnyes” The head of Indrid’s cock presses into him, “oh I never tire of how you feel, pet. So warm and welcoming for you, ah” he whispers in Duck’s ear, “master”

“‘Drid you, you keep that up I’m gonna cum any second.”

“Not before I show you something important. Look” Indrid forces his head forward with the collar. His reflection writhes and bounces eagerly on a cock he can’t see but can definitely feel, lips parted in a prolonged moan as Indrid lays claim to every inch of him. 

“My perfect, handsome pet, letting me play with him as I see fit.”

“Damn rightAHfuck, I’m close, if you twist like that again I’m gonna-”

“Cum” Indrid orders. Duck obeys, spilling into the water with a groan of thanks. The mer waists no time, traps him in place with his tentacles so can fuck him hard and fast, one hand tugging the collar and the other fisted in his hair, “oh yes, yes pet, just a little more, you can take a little more, you must, because you are my spoiled little treasure and I can cum in you whenever I please.”

“Fuuck” Duck turns his head for a messy kiss as the mer empties into him with a muffled trill. 

One by one, the tentacles relax, Duck’s feet gradually meeting the floor as Indrid trails kisses down his spine. 

“Goodness, whatever did I do to deserve you, Duck Newton?”

“Save my life?” Duck turns, gathering the mer into a hug.

“I did that because it was the right thing.”

“You’re right. Hmmmm” he peppers Indrid’s face with kisses, “must be because you’re so damn perfect.”

Indrid hums happily as Duck maneuvers them into bed, “I doubt that’s it, but I am too tired to argue.”

Duck lays down beside him, looping his leg over Indrid’s waist as tentacle twines around his ankle. Maybe one day it will cling to his fins instead, but he’s not all that worried about that now. However he ends up, as long as he’s with Indrid, he knows life will be perfect. 

[regrettablewritings]

Animatic/Storyboard Music

Got bored/procrastinate-y on coloring in this ultra intricate card for my mom. So I’m just gonna make a list of songs I think make for good animatic material. Because why not/I wanna foist my musical tastes on people/ @locke-writes got me in a music binge. For the most part, it’s just gonna be me explaining the meanings or the vibe or what they generally tend to be used for, but really it’s mostly subjective so imaginate whatchu wanna.

“Trust Me” - The Devil’s Carnival Originally depicting a story about the Scorpion and the Frog, it’s the perfect song for when you want to depict the dynamic between a gullible or at the very least more grounded character and a figure whose intentions . . . may be less than pure. Or good for anyone, really.

“The Dismemberment Song” - The Blue Kid I have a playlist dedicated to songs whose content and sound are just . . . not married to one another, but got a weird flirtationship situation going on. Anyway, I’ve seen people say that they like to imagine it’s sung through the POV of a scorned housewife who’s finally Had Enough™️. And . . . They’re really not wrong for it. Really, though, it’s just the right song for when a sadist is just ready to gut a fucker but is disturbingly jolly about it.

“Love Me Dead” - Ludo Continuing with my trend of songs about people in less than ideal situations, “Love Me Dead” is straight to the point: The relationship is just awful and the guy gets nothing from it, but he can’t help but be hopelessly in a state of adoration for the woman he’s latched on to (“You’re born of a jackal! YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!!”)

“Constellations” - The Oh Hellos There actually isn’t a plot to this song, it just feels really good (as all songs by The Oh Hellos are prone to be). However, if you feel a need to portray the concept of having to reorganize your thoughts after realizing that maybe they weren’t what you initially thought, and then coming to the conclusion that even though everything changes as a result, you’ll be alright? This is the song for you.

“A Kindling of Sorts” - The Oh Hellos An instrumental piece that is like . . . It’s related to another song of theirs about nationalism called “Torches”, so make of that what you will. (I personally have been using it to imagine storyboarding an opening for an animated The Witcher series.)

“The Other Side” - The Greatest Showman I know everyone and their mom has used this to portray situations like villains trying to get good guys to join their side. But I dun curr, it’s a fun song. That, and I like what Emilyamio did with her interpretation. It’s fun. For a basic rundown, know it’s another song about two characters’ dynamics being explored, with one coming to the other with a proposal that they join them in whatever endeavors they have in store. It’s often portrayed as something evil, but it really doesn’t have to be, as the original context was more about letting loose than anything.

“The Thief and the Moon” - Shawn James A much more mellow piece. Simple and straight to the point: A thief tells the Moon that he plans on stealing her light to shade the world in darkness. The Moon insists that the thief would only doom the world by doing so, to which the thief clarifies that he doesn’t care; if the world is shrouded in shadow, it means he will be able to steal with more ease (“My very existence is a race to attain wealth”). Disgusted, the Moon essentially curses the man with a warning that his greed can and will bring about his end -- and leave him to be forgotten by the rest of mankind, once it happens.

“Villainous Thing” - Shayfer James I’ve seen people say that this song is about singing to a cadaver but I can’t quite find anything confirming that (translation: I’m too lazy to look too into it). Regardless, it’s a fun ditty that yet again portrays someone with less than pure intentions encouraging someone to join him in some good old fashion villainy, as they’ve clearly endured their fair share of hardships and surely wanted to do evil anyway (“You’ll find no ever after here, it’s clear that isn’t what you came for“).

“Necromancin Dancin” - Bear Ghost Straight forward and fun as fuck: A necromancer apparently seems to cross classes and try his hand at barding by not only raising an army of the dead, but by also making them dance in order to make conquering the world easier. Because . . . a body doing Disco Duck isn’t scary, I guess.

"Aquaman” - Walk the Moon A song about one half of a couple wanting to become more involved in their relationship, but still having some nervousness about doing so. If you somehow haven’t heard this song yet, you gotta because it’s the cutest shit.

“Jenny’s Tale” - Ren I’ll be brutally honest, it’s about a woman named Jenny who just wants to get home after a long day of work and an unfortunate encounter with a 14 year old named Screech who gets way in over his head. As in, like, a death happens. That being said, I need. Like. An animated music video of this song. I imagine this shit in gritty charcoal or painted on glass, it just needs this. Somebody who isn’t me who knows what they’re doing, please look into this.

“The Curse of the Fold” - Shawn James As cheesy as it sounds, it basically boils down to not giving up or yielding. But what makes it so cool is the fact that Shawn James makes all his songs basically sound like a western gothic soundtrack. Which helps, because he admits that the title is also a reference to poker, in which giving up too often or too easily can often rob you of a delicious reward gained through perseverance and sacrifice.

“Thank God I’m Not You” - Himalayas I prefer to imagine this for an arrogant asshole of a character. Because that’s exactly what this song is about: They’re a liar and a thief, they’ve been called the son of Satan, and yet they consider themselves lucky -- ‘cause at least they ain’t you! If you have a character in mind who’s a delightful, punchable little shit, this is probably either their anthem or at least on the playlist you inevitably made for them.

"Passerine" - The Oh Hellos So there’s a common trend in The Oh Hellos’ discography that tends to explore the two founders’ experiences with faith and their growth in how they understand it or recognize it. With “Passerine”, the concept being explored is the experience they had when it came to taking a step back and realizing just how many of their supposed “fellow Christians” were actually doing some rather unchristian things, so to speak. When they “prune[d] their feathers”, it became clear that they had less in common with certain people proclaiming to be Christian while also spouting bigotry and greed. However, the desire to move away from such influences comes with the feeling of being torn, as moving too far away from the Bible leaves the singer feeling as though she is betraying something she holds dear. As a result, “Passerine” symbolizes not a breakage from faith, but a breakage from blind faith as they understood it, and the inevitable feeling of being torn that comes along with expanding upon how one views their beliefs and those around them. It’s therefore not uncommon to see Good Omens animatics using this song. (Something I also noticed is that throughout the song, you hear pieces of “Constellations”. TOH have a tendency to reference previous pieces, and considering “Constellations” is a song about changing perspective and the meanings we apply to them, it fits in beautifully with a song about reevaluating one’s stance.)

“Like the Dawn” - The Oh Hellos As stated before, a lot of TOH’s discography draws inspiration from their faith. In this case, it’s an outright retelling of the Garden of Eden, specifically when Adam awoke to find Eve had been created. What makes this iteration stand out to most, however, is that the singer is female, which seems to change the vibe you get. It sweetens the feeling of wonder we often forget the first man might’ve felt upon seeing somebody made for him, creating an air of beauty yet comfort with such lines as “And like the dawn, you broke the dark and my whole earth shook” or “You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen.” Even without the awareness or an interest in religious influences, it still manages to be a very feel-good song -- which is the mark of an overall good song in general!

“Confession” - RED Dealing with the constant battle of feeling ashamed that how you feel on the inside isn’t in sync with how you present yourself on the outside. That you should feel bad for smiling out at the world while screaming and thrashing -- like it’s a lie. But you can’t help it: It’s what you’re accustomed to. Though it does end on a hopeful note with the singer deciding that they want to reach out for help and rid themselves of this feeling of pain they have inside.

“When I Grow Up” - Matilda . . . Only if you want to cry. Seriously. When you’re a kid, everything seems difficult but you’re positive that once you grow up, everything will change: You’ll be tall enough to climb the trees you were too small to, you’ll be able to carry everything because you’re stronger, you’ll be brave enough to fight the monsters hiding in your room, you’ll finally have all the answers. . . . But life isn’t that simple. We wish it were, but it isn’t. There’s this bittersweetness about this song, about a sense of purity we unfortunately grow out of where we think things will be just the same enough for us to do what we want when we want, but things are more complicated than that. We still struggle to reach, to bear the weight, to not be afraid, to have even a fraction of the answers. But! We’re reminded that just because we’re told life isn’t fair, doesn’t mean we have to take it. After all, nothing changes when nothing happens. And even beyond that? It helps to remember that we’re never quite done growing up; there’s always more to learn, so remember to be patient with yourself.

“Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!” - Will Wood and the Tapeworms This is . . . a song. The lyrics are honestly kinda all over the place and shooting rapid fire, making it a bit difficult to discern what exactly the singer is going on about. It makes for a pretty crazy song that suggests somebody’s going unhinged, which is apparently precisely the intention?? I’ve seen a lot of people interpret this as a song about a guy who is already at a low point in his life but nonetheless is going, “. . . I bet I can go deeper. Hand me my shovel.”

“No Reason” - Beetlejuice God if i had a youtube channel the segment i would spend on this song would be so juicy just ripe and thicc with thoughts and feelings i tell ya rich like a fresh fatty peach the apple that tempted Eve and gagged Adam yes ‘Nother song that explores the dynamic between two differing people and their worldviews. At its simplest, “No Reason” is about two opposite ends of a spectrum coming to a head: Idealistic and hippie-dippy Delia is convinced that everything happens for a reason, while cynical and depressed Lydia asserts that everything happens at random and it doesn’t matter anyway because we’re all going to die. And even though the delivery is ultimately a comedic one, you get more insight as to why one another feels the way that they do: Lydia, as we’ve previously learned, has recently lost her mother to an illness, which has left her depressed and feeling invisible (a theme in the show); whereas Delia’s failed marriage and desperate attempts to nonetheless be happy have left her dependent on the idea that these things had to have happened for a reason, otherwise, her pain would’ve been for nothing. What’s important is that neither side is actually appointed as the winner, with the song ultimately ending that the universe is random for a reason.

“Barbara 2.0″ - Beetlejuice Without spoiling anything (or at least too much), “Barbara 2.0″ is about growth. It’s about learning to put your foot down after a literal lifetime of being passive out of fear of what might happen and just accepting that nothing will happen if nothing happens -- but that doesn’t make whatever happens good.

“Bleed Magic” - IDHKBTFM It’s either about a killer or a vampire. No, seriously: When Dallon Weekes was asked about what the story of the song was, that was his answer. I personally prefer to think of it as a vampire or demon of some kind, given that the song came out around Halloween. Perfect for yet another example of somebody (likely supernatural) having an upper hand on an unsuspecting mortal. ...I have way too many of these on this list, I swear I don’t have a problem —

“Feel Good Drag” - Anberlin A toxic relationship of sorts. In that it shouldn’t be a relationship to begin with. Depicts the singer being approached by an ex, who seeks a one-night stand while her current boyfriend is out of town. However, the singer is aware that trying to continue anything regardless of the situation is a moot point: Even when they were together, their relationship was doomed from the start, and nothing about that is going to change -- especially now.

“Soviet Trumpeter” - Katzenjammer (It’s kinda difficult to work with this one but I’ve seen people work with less or stranger.) Based off the life of one Eddie Rosner, a Jewish Polish trumpeter whose fame within the USSR unfortunately faded due to the Soviet Union’s heavy censorship. Even if nothing is to be done with it, it still paints a melancholic picture of a talented man’s skills being largely unknown as a result of things beyond his control. All wrapped up in a song that denotes a strange deterioration in a way I can’t quite place.

“Apple Blossom” - The White Stripes On its face, it’s a very sweet song: The singer encourages his beloved to be vulnerable enough with him to tell him her troubles and to let him “sort them out for [her]”. She’s clearly saddened, and seeing so distresses him to where he insists that he will do whatever he can to make her happy. However, the tone of the song and certain lines make it easy to twist into yet another song of a character attempting to seduce somebody into a state of vulnerability . . .

“You’ve Got Possibilities” - It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superman The one singular song people actually liked from this forgotten musical. Perfect for when somebody intends on giving somebody else a makeover. Y’know, after totally roasting them on their posture and clothing. If you want to add a lil something extra, know that the context is that a lady wants to give Clark Kent a makeover, insisting that in spite of his schlubby appearance, there’s gotta be something underneath. I repeat: She is telling this to Clark freaking Kent.

 “Still” - Anastasia In the context, the show’s antagonist (not bad guy, there’s a difference) finds himself torn between obligation and personal interest: Does he fulfill his duty and live up to expectations set upon him by his father and the society he’s been selected to help uphold? Or does he let a woman he has become fond of go? Is she truly as innocent as she claims? Or is she well aware of what she’s doing? And every time he thinks he’s reached a conclusion, he can’t help but thing, “But still . . .” Good for when you want to portray a character conflicted between obligations of politics and what their heart wants.

“Two Nobodies in New York” - [title of show] Two young men plan on entering an upcoming theatrical festival but struggle with what to even submit. This song in particular focuses on them trying to figure out what to even write, the concept of fame, and if wanting the certain things that may come with fame can mean anything from being sell-outs to getting a sitcom. It’s admittedly specific, but it’s a cute and funny interaction between two guys who are, for the most part, actually in sync with their thoughts and anxieties. For the time being.

“Into the Unknown” - Idina Menzel Look, I refuse to watch that movie. I just do. But I will take this song over That Other One any day. Mostly because I personally like to imagine that the singer in this song is about to embark on a Pixaresque journey after accidentally leaving her home during the night of The Wild Hunt, accidentally separating her spirit from her body and thus giving her a very limited time to get back to it before she remains a soul trapped in a whirlwind of ghosts forever. But first: Let’s sing about that strange howling that coaxes her so.

“You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid” - The Offspring I sure do long songs that can characterize a shithead . . . Anywho! The smoothest way to go is just to portray some cocky, manipulative shit who’s used to just lying and cheating their way to get what they want before slipping away without any consequences -- to a point. There’s the option of portraying the betrayer’s comeuppance, but there’s also the frustratingly delicious option of just letting them get away with whatever to lie another day.

“Why Should I Worry” - Billy Joel When in doubt, go to earlier Disney. Because like it or not, they had some bops. And when in the need of portraying a happy-go-lucky (probably idiotic) doofus and his more neurotic or cynical friend going about their life with the former just Mr. Magooing it while the latter suffers more realistic consequences? You go with this song. If you want. That’s just me.

“Transformation” - Brother Bear For when you want to invoke a mystical or otherworldly feeling. There’s really not much more I can say except to encourage you to listen to it and watch the scene if you can find it. You’ll get the vibe.

“No Girl’s Toy” - Raggedy Ann and Andy: A Musical Adventure It’s a big shame this movie is relatively unknown and never got a proper VHS release or anything -- mainly because the music in this cult classic is definitely stuff I could see becoming standards. I could see people performing “I Never Get Enough” for little shows, or recycling “Blue” for a different show. Thankfully, somebody was able to upload a clear enough sounding recording of “No Girl’s Toy”, so at least we have that. In context (just...follow me on this), Raggedy Ann’s brother, Raggedy Andy, has had enough of being subjected to “girly things” while in the nursery. Additionally, though, the way the song was written means it can also be interpreted as just a guy who refuses to let himself be yanked around regardless of how thick the sugar being laid on him is. . . . If you wanna poke fun as a character for trying to appear tougher than what he is, here’s the song. (That being said, Andy is a sweetheart at the end of the day. No amount of tough-fronting will hide that.)

“I Enjoy Being a Girl” - Flower Drum Song (It is by sheer coincidence that this song follows the above.) Really, it’s exactly what it says on the tin: The singer enjoys being a girl and what all it entails for her. She loves her feminine form, she loves the attention she gets, she loves dolling herself up, she loves frilly dresses, and she hopes to one day marry a guy who enjoys “having a girl like [her].” And honestly? Good on her! Love whatcha love, lovely! Seriously, though, it’s a cute song for anyone who just wants to indulge in some girliness.

“Chip on My Shoulder” - Legally Blonde Come on: It’s Legally Blonde. You know what this bop is, or at least have an idea of it. But since I love this song, I’ll indulge: Disheartened by her failure to both win back her ex and succeed in the fast-paced environment of Harvard, the normally bright-eyed Elle is ready to call it quits. That is, until junior partner Emmett gets involved. Unimpressed by her story, Emmett reveals that he got to where he was by busting his ass due to having a chip on his shoulder from his rough beginnings — and maybe a chip on the shoulder is exactly what Elle needs to survive. And as somebody driven by spite, I can appreciate that kind of message. Anywho, it all in all is a song about growth and learning how to be “driven as hell” to keep up with an opportunity that may not be easy to take, but is not one to be passed by.

“What Do I Need with Love?” - Thoroughly Modern Millie “What Do I Need with Love?” asks exactly that: He could date a different girl every night of the week if he so wanted, and never once had any desire to go steady before. He considers himself lucky to have never fallen for anyone -- until now. Which he’s not! He’s not in love. ...He totally is and, by his own admission, he’s got it bad it’s terribly adorable.

“Interlude IV” - Zach Callison The entire album is actually a narrative about a failed relationship of Callison’s and I’m sure the other songs are just as great fuel for animatics -- I’m just too caught up on listening to this one over and over. Sometimes, we just wanna listen to Steven Universe cuss and be openly furious. Seriously, though, even without the context of the rest of the story, you get the idea well enough: A spiteful Zach decides to get back at the one that broke his heart in such a painful way, whereas a well-meaning friend insists they just leave it be and move on. While this technically would be the better and healthier option, Zach is just too far gone with rage to let it go and decides to take care of things by himself.

“Evermore” - Beauty & the Beast Look, I know the remake wasn’t anything crazy. But also I don’t honestly care too terribly much. Besides, this song was nice and it really gets me after that key change. We all want a royal doofus to be enamored enough with us to let us go for our own happiness but still know that their life will forever be changed because they met us. Animate that shit. Over and over.

goddamn this list is long lemme just stop this now byyyyeeeee

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘net’ (finale) (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

Time heals every wound.

Even the deepest, bloodiest ones, alike the ones inflicted to the ego. 

It felt like you wouldn’t ever get over how embarrassed you'd felt but you did, to a certain degree, get over it. The fact that Mr Kim didn’t appear before you for a few weeks helped a little, and the one that Jimmy was doing great -way better than you had expected, somehow, after overcoming the very first difficult step, he’s been able to improve profusely, consistently- helped immensely.

You felt like you've done your part regarding him and his overall situation at home. You helped as you could, you pushed the buttons just waiting to be pushed, needing that little extra help, and on his own, progressively, Jimmy’s found himself influenced by his environment and naturally, has been learning to adapt to it.

You shouldn’t interfere anymore is what you keep telling yourself. But for the past week and a half, after the class has been long dismissed, you've been seeing his little backpack, with the two bear ears decorating the top, skimming through the hallway as Jimmy's little legs shuffle to keep up with Adrianne‘s energetic walk. If you don’t see them, you hear them, or more accurately you hear her, talking to him, or mostly to herself, out loud as she furnishes the quietness of the corridors after all the children have left. 

The curiosity is eating you alive. You resist for as long as you can until you break, grabbing your mug in one hand and your dustbin in the other, not sure which one is a better excuse to be bursting in her way, and you catch them exiting one of the adjacent classrooms. Adrianne seems shocked, startles, and you mimic her as well as you can, feigning a coincidence. 

“What are you doing with this? You know I was going to take care of it.” 

“Oh, you know...” And you see that she doesn’t know but you don’t either and you have no idea what to add. Therefore simply you drop the subject altogether and start with what you're interested in. “Jimmy, why are you still here?” You ask kindly, tending a finger forward to swipe back one of his lock falling on his face. He doesn’t flinch nor winces at the gesture. You internally smile. Only half committed to answering, he looks back at you simply shrugging, pouty mouth twisting a bit. 

“His daddy is always late. I think they don’t have a nanny anymore.” 

“Oh is that right?”

“Hm. So little Jimmy keeps me company while I clean the rooms. I have to do the rooms, even if it can't be too fun for a little boy. Is it fun, Jimmy?” 

And Jimmy nods, quite eagerly even though he can’t possibly be sincere. Especially given the fact that if Adrienne is a lovely respectable woman that you appreciate dearly, you can’t deny that her boisterous voice with her tendency to go on and on no matter the lack of encouragement from the other end, can’t be too pleasing, especially after a full day of working the brain. You're guilty of sometimes closing your door when you stay late in your class to quiet down her ranting to herself as she goes from room to room to tidy up.

“Do you want to leave him with me? It’d be more convenient for you.” You're not exactly sure what motivates you as you suggest it. You can tell, from the line her eyebrows are drawing, that even if she won’t express it in front of him, having to watch over him and take him along on her route is not the most practical, definitely must make her waste time and efficiency. Still, you're not even sure why you propose to relieve her.

You just like the kid, you suppose. 

You ask yourself the question, actively, as Jimmy and you silently stroll back to your classroom. It’s only when you take a seat, him at his desk and you at yours, that you see the pile of today's writing exercises the kids submitted to you that an idea occurs. 

You're not sure of the ways your brain works. It seems to be working backwards recently. 

You decide you could teach him. Jimmy, if he’s not lost behind his other classmates, is still lacking a bit. Having started life in a whole different culture, being suddenly thrown in this new one, having to learn a new language on top of another drastically different one, while being lost in a sea of other children, the same age as him, but somehow way ahead of him, all of this is, you suspect, one of the main reasons why he doesn’t like to participate. His father had a point on that. And you want to give him the tools, the confidence to simply try. 

But it’s not like you can work over basis the other children mastered subconsciously, effortlessly, already long ago the few years of their lives. 

Here comes an opportunity though. Late afternoon classes, while waiting for his dad, assuming his schedule will keep allowing you the time.

“Thanks a lot. I’m sorry again, I’ve had a little issue with the lady who took care of him and-“

“It’s fine. Don’t apologise. Have a nice evening. I see you tomorrow Jimmy?”

You're all smiles and soft words but you don’t give Mr Kim much attention. Not meeting his eyes, facing towards Jimmy instead of him. You're not being petty. It’s simply the warmth who started spreading along your neck and cheeks as soon as you heard the opening of the main hall door from the distance, highly uncomfortable and impossible to ignore. You thought you were over it but clearly, you were wrong. Not seeing him directly for those few weeks of resting was entirely misleading. 

He is now standing in front of you and you have this awful feeling again, the one that’s making you feel like you regret every single life choice ever made by your own stupid self, any swipe of a butterfly’s wings that led to this moment. 

You're effective though. Not wasting any spare moment, as gently as possible, yet firmly, you intimate their way out.

This is how it goes.

Somehow he allows it to happen. From his stalling around, the way his lips open slightly full of intention but nothing ever coming out, he means to say something. He feels the awkwardness, the tension. He perhaps wishes to diffuse it but as polite and agreeable as you naturally show yourself to be, you're able to show yourself cold and distant.

You've given up on this anyway.

You don't know what this is, precisely. And you do not care to figure it out. You know it's not something reasonable, something you want to spend time thinking about. It's something that won't lead you anywhere, it's something that had never started yet made you do dumb craps and feel awful. So, screw this.

Carefully, meticulously, you apply the same routine to every single day. Mr Kim's schedule does happen to allow those extra courses. For a while, it's simply how it goes.

Until embarrassment -this bitchy disease- seems to grow on his side. You're not sure where it comes from, maybe he misinterprets your attitude, take it too personally. In any case, he grows weary of the time and energy he seems to believe he's making you waste on them.

He starts arriving, forehead soaked from how hard he runs to get to the school not too late. Sometimes he manages to be right on time and Jimmy doesn't even get to come back to you, escorted by Adrienne, for a quick reading of a short story or a low, very discreet recitation of a short poetry you've learned together before. In those cases, you're annoyed, and so is Jimmy -you can tell, from the puff of his cheeks and even sometimes, from the way he refuses to raise his eyes from whatever you're working on, purposefully ignoring the loudness of his dad appearing before you two, not ready as he is to go home yet.

Therefore, naturally, you have to talk to him.

It's not a pleasant thought. You're not enthused at the idea, you don't even know what to tell him incisively but you know, you have to talk to him.

It's all ridiculous. Jimmy has made progress even you didn't imagine possible. He's almost good to go and expend his freedom born from a tiny, shy but very much existing newfound confidence. But you like your late afternoon classes. And you know he does too. Also, he doesn't have much interaction with anyone besides his father. From what the later told you, even talking with his cousins is a challenge he struggles to submit himself to.

And there's his mom, gone, never to come back. Your heart aches each time you think about it. It's not your place, you have to remind yourself constantly. Yet, you can't help it. Because somehow maybe it is. You're not sure what that place is but maybe there's one for you. One that is a strange, coincidental, sort of fated little space for you to fill, for a little while, that will mark him enough to help him through this awful test Life had for him and possibly, even, later on in life.

Life is strange. It's filled with curious encounters with strangers that leave a trace within you, that you'll carry forever. They can hurt and engrave a nasty scar that'll affect you forever or the opposite, they can help heal, help bloom hope, inspire friendship and love and benevolence.

Somehow, even throughout your constant reminding yourself that you should not get too involved, you should not care so much as to let it affect your everyday life and state of mind and emotions, you've done exactly that. You don't exactly regret it.

It's a thing, so stupid and useless, that makes it feel like you regret it.

Because now, you have to talk to his dad and explain to him, fully, with sentences and blanks for him to answer and probably looks to spare his way for polite measures, what you've been doing and how it's more than fine that he's late after the classes end because it allows you time to spend together and work on a lot of different essential things.

"You had something to say to me?"

God. You don't want to talk to him.

You've been dreading this moment so hard for the past week that your steeping anxiety turned into deep aggravation and you can't stand looking at him. Just seeing him makes you angry.

"Mr Kim, I've told you multiple times before not to worry when you're late." He frowns a little, looking back at your severe gaze, confused. He nods slowly, not saying anything, and you assume it's because he isn't really in capacity of speaking right now. Not when his breath is so ragged and his brain probably dizzy from the race he submitted himself to from his office. "Yet you keep running in my class every day, all dishevelled and- and all-"

"But. But I shouldn't bother you-"

"Mr Kim. You are bothering me by not listening. What I've tried to tell you is that Jimmy and I can take advantage of your schedule.” Deep breathing in and out to calm down and slow the high ladder your voice naturally wants to climb, and you start again, only slightly less on edge. “If you're late, we can work on things we can't do during the day with his classmates. Haven't you noticed his improvements?"

"I- I did but-"

"But what?" You're plain rude. Arms crossed tight on your chest, eyebrows low above your eyes, sighing and almost tapping your foot on the floor. You look like a cartoonish version of an angry teacher. In other words, you look ridiculous. It's not justified whatsoever. Or more like, the reasons you're so mad are ridiculous and absolutely not related to his being thoughtful of the time he might be stealing from you by letting you, sort of, babysit his kid after your official work hours. You'll be embarrassed by it later.

He's cartoonish too. With his helpless "but-" and sheepish looks. Until he's not anymore. He has the shadow of a grin creeping on one corner of his lips.

"Feels like you're scolding me, Miss ___." He bites back a smile. His forehead has softened out, his gaze gentler and calmer, he doesn't seem to take personally your attack. Which he should but whatever. It's even more annoying because smiles look really nice on him and it's hard to stay as mad as you'd been when the dimples coupled with them are hinting their way on his honey cheeks.

"Precisely. I wouldn't have to if you'd just do what I'm asking of you." He beams blatantly now, having decided that somehow you're not mad anymore. As you said, staying angry when the softest looking dimples you've ever seen on anyone dig their way in his cheeks is an impossible task. And Your frown progressively turns into a barely upset pout.

A ridiculous, childish pout of a stupid child who's upset about being teased and flustered.

"You really like your students that much?" He asks, tone sweeter, not in a rush to obtain an answer. You're thankful for it because you wouldn't know how to express how you feel.

You do like your students “that much”. You like people. You want the best for them and you know how those couple of first years living in the world, experiencing it and its beings populating it are determining. You're not too crazy about all of them because some, unfortunately, have already been rubbed with distasteful attitudes by distasteful parents. But for the most part, you do love them a whole lot.

Also, you really like Jimmy Kim, for some reasons. He just directly affects your heartstrings and you simply can not help it. If you just wish the best for anyone, and especially for your students, for Jimmy, you wish even more. You wish only happy days and wonderful experiences and people. Maybe it's the sadness you read for months since you first met him in your class, reinforced by the newly glint of joy and excitement you've been catching recently.

It's all very abstract and confusing and hardly decipherable. So much so that simply trying to figure out your emotions, to convey them into an answer for him, you feel yourself getting emotional. You think he even notices. Therefore, simply, you settle for not much,

"Jimmy is a really sweet kid."

"I'm grateful for you noticing it." Mr Kim starts before taking a deep breath. "I just feel like you're too nice to us. I don't know if- I mean, maybe that's what you do for every family and if it's the case, it's- it's wonderful, very kind of you. But- I mean, don't you, I don't know, you must have your life to get back to. After work, even if I like my job, all I want is leave and you know, get back to my life."

"My job is my life, Mr Kim. I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to."

"It can't be all of it. You- you must- I don't know, want to go home to your boyfriend and go out with your friends and unwind and do fun things and I'm just trapping you here to care for-" You're ticking at that. Bold of him to assume that you have a boyfriend. Fortunately for you, you've learned from your mistakes and you know better, this time, than to correct him. You're not falling into that trap again.

"Mr Kim-"

"Namjoon." You raise an eyebrow, searching your brain for an explanation you missed. "My name. Sorry. You keep calling me Mr Kim and it feels weird."

"I-" It takes you a second to compose yourself. The firepit of rage has a little blaze threatening to bring the whole back to life and consume your whole gut. "Listen. You expressed your concerns. I listened to them. From that, I said that not only did I not mind, I wanted to take this opportunity. So now, the reasonable thing to do is to simply accept what I said. I'm not deceiving you but even if I were, it's my problem, you don't have to worry anymore, do you understand?" How can someone so concerned about making you waste your time can also waste it so expertly and your energy and sanity along with it? He, Namjoon, just stares for a second. His eyes then fall upon his son, a couple of meters away. You're both standing in the hallway while the boy sits patiently at his table, in the back, far enough for him not to hear a simple conversation but given your tendency to heat up for no proper reasons, you're worried he catches bits of the friction. He seems pretty engrossed in the book he's looking at though.

You observe his dad, watching over him, frowning. "Except if you have a problem with me." As on a reflex, his head spins around for his wide eyes to face you. "You do, don't you? You have a problem with me and that's why you're being so difficult!" He gasps, looking awfully offended but you can't even trust it. It'd make way more sense. It's all making sense. "Well, fine, but just say it then, instead of-"

"I don't have a problem with you!"

"Yes, you do. It's obvious. I don't even know how I haven't noticed before..."

"I don't have a problem with you, Miss ___!" Jimmy has definitely noticed now. He's watching you from his seat, four rows away. Curiously, he doesn't seem too fazed. He seems intrigued by the noise but not that concerned. "You're doing so much for us and I feel burdened because I want to give back to you but there's no way- I don't- nothing seems appropriate and I don't know what to do."

"You don't owe me anything, Mr Kim."

"I want to. Can't you be reasonable and accept that?" On his side, the fury has diminished, only a fading shadow remains, colouring his words into something more animated than his usual way of talking. "I really like you, I don't have a problem with you. I'm so thankful for you just entering our lives, sincerely. I'm sorry if I gave a wrong impression." Here comes the awkward tingle that has no right to be appearing. You have to chastise yourself, to rationalize, loud and clear to your delusional all-over-the-place heart, that his thoughts got lost and distorted by translation. He can't mean what he said no matter how much, apparently, your heart would like it.

"Well, ok, then." It's lame. Not very eloquent, pretty self-reflecting. But this man is a rollercoaster. It's hard to adapt and honestly, it's a miracle he hasn't thrown you out of the circuit. You don't know how to react. How to come back down from your suspicious accusations, from your childish outburst, from your giddy excitement at the words he didn't really mean the way you heard them.

That will do anyway. Deciding that most of your issue has been settled and that probably, by continuing this conversation, you're taking the risk to lose it again and possibly traumatized innocent Jimmy this time, you conclude, on a common agreement, the impromptu meeting. Mr Kim goes to help Jimmy pack up his stuff and slip his vest on.

They express goodbye to you, Jimmy waving quickly a hand half-hidden by his sleeve, Mr Kim nodding his head, lips tight as if not meaning to take the risk of saying something wrong.

"Have a nice weekend. See you on Monday, Jimmy."

Then Mr Kim stops in his track, his son bumping into his leg and almost falling to the ground if it were not for the strong grip keeping him upward by the hand. They were just about to reach the entry doors, a few steps away only from them. Mr Kim crouches to his son's height, says something to him, one of his hand cupping the side of his face, fingers brushing his cheek before he stands up, trotting quickly to you, still standing in the doorway of your classroom.

"Miss ___." He's slightly out of breath, weirdly enough for a man who keeps in shape, at least, with the daily runs he makes from his work to his son's school.

"Do you like running that much?" He smiles a bright, wide grin that makes your heart skips a bit.

"I don't actually." He stops and throws a look over his shoulder, towards his son. "There's something I meant to ask but as I said, I feel it might be too inappropriate."

"Ask away."

"If it is, please just say so and ignore me and let's just pretend I've never said anything, ok?"

"Fine. Ask your scandalous question." He looks boyish for a second. Swallowing hard, Adam's apple bobbing obnoxiously along his throat, glancing one more time to Jimmy before he finally gets to it.

"Would you allow me to treat you to a restaurant some time?" You can't deny it, the flutter from earlier is back, stronger than ever. You're so enchanted, feeling tickly all over, like a fucking fifteen-year-old being asked on a date for the first time. It's absurd. Because you're not even sure that's what he means, again. This time, even if you're frustrated and flustered and you want to get mad at him for putting you through this, you can't because the unfamous butterflies are too excited, celebrating the sudden blooming of a garden full of flowers in the pit of your stomach.

"Like a... 'thanks for being the best teacher for my kid' type of diner?"

"Maybe." He has a pout on his mouth his teeth bite on. His eyes are smiling at the corner, but they hold a sheepish hesitation. You don't know if you can trust your perception. He does look like you imagine yourself to look like right now. You wonder if he feels the same way too. Or if, once again, you're imagining a lot of things that are not there.

"Ok. With great pleasure."

You're a coward. You know that. But it's ok, you decide. Because if it turns out to be a date, surely you'll figure it out, won't you?

There's a little stalling moment. A short instant where eyes discuss silently. They're better at speaking then your mouths are. Not arguing, meeting somewhere they understand each other and you have an evident sense of comfort there you're scared to lean in, but that screams at you that there's something very soft and gentle and deeper than simple politeness floating around. He nods, smiling to you or to himself, until he waves you goodbye, quite alike Jimmy did earlier and then he's trotting again, this time back to his son.

It feels like you're walking on some sort of stilts, jumpy, giddy, too excited to just saunter back in your classroom. On your table there's a drawing you've never seen before, sitting next to the neat pile of your documents. It's an adorable, colourful illustration of a girl. With the blue hair and the purple eyes, you hesitate for a second, but after further observation -the similar dress and hairstyle help- you conclude it's a portrait of you. A lovely portrait of you Jimmy has made, while his father and you discussed, that he left on your desk for you to find.

A/N: what an abrupt ending lmao; sorry i couldn’t figure something better out. I really hope you liked it, thank you SO MUCH for reading :) kisses & hugz

[bunny-bopper]

Demonstrating One’s Talent

My first contribution to Snapetober is Snockhart! Thanks to @sxvxrxssnape for organising this event. I’m not sure I did whump right though...

Prompt 10: ‘you’re bleeding’ and 22: collapsed 

Warnings: body horror, body horror elements, blood and injury 

(but it is really just fun crack treated seriously I swear!) 

AO3 link

Defence Against the Dark Arts should have been Harry's favourite class. It was certainly the one he got the best marks in, and no one could deny that he, of all people, needed to know how to defend himself. Considering that he'd had a close encounter with the world's most powerful dark wizard, who just happened to be very keen on murdering him, in his first year alone.  

And it would have been his favourite class if not for the simpering, stuck-up, pompous twat of a teacher they had. For all his self-proclaimed skill and expertise in battling Dark Forces, Harry couldn't think of one useful thing Lockhart had taught them this year. And with a monster running loose about the castle no less!  

It was unusual for Harry to arrive at the egotistical dolt's class on time, let alone early, but with Hermione still petrified in the Hospital Wing and Ron sleeping the day away after their terrifying introduction to Aragog last night, that is exactly where he found himself. He'd planned to spend the extra few minutes quietly pondering what it all meant – the mirror, the writing on the wall, the spiders – but, once he arrived on the third-floor corridor, he saw that something else unusual was going on.  

Lockhart was slumped against the wall outside his classroom talking miserably away to himself. "I just...I simply cannot begin to fathom why he isn't interested!"  

Interest piqued and having been provided cover by a handy suit of armour, Harry stopped to listen as a female voice came out of nowhere.  

"Well perhaps if you were a little more...modest?"  

It was then Harry realised Lockhart was not, in fact, talking to himself, but to a painting. One of a very pretty – and very naked – water nymph. Harry hadn't noticed it last year and rather suspected Lockhart of placing it there himself. She had large, ocean eyes alluringly framed with dark lashes and long brown hair that was perpetually wet from the fact that she spent all her time lazing in a lily pond, the flowers of which only just protected her modesty.  

"One tries to be, my dear lady, truly. It's just rather difficult when one's talents are so..." Lockhart looked off into the distance, as though trying to come up with a word that properly conveyed such talents was a challenge in and of itself, "...abundant."  

"Quite." The nymph scrunched up her delicate features as though she'd swallowed something foul, but Lockhart didn't seem to notice.  

"Honestly, I mean, I'm not one to boast but I've never had this sort of trouble before – romantic trouble I mean – I'm used to having a line of ladies and gentlemen, all vying for my affections, long enough to stretch out the door! And now I'm reduced to lamenting my sorrows to a painting!"  

"Excuse me!" said the nymph, thumping the water with her fist to create an angry splash. "I do have other things to do besides sit here and listen to you moaning about your love life!" Harry wasn't quite sure what  

Lockhart shrank further down the wall. "My apologies," he mumbled. "I simply meant-"  

"Look," the nymph began, with more pity in her voice this time. More than Harry could dream of showing someone so arrogant, at any rate. "Perhaps if you demonstrated your talents in front of him, rather than just...discussing them at great length...he'd take more of an interest."  

"Alas!" Lockhart moaned. "I've been trying! Starting small, you know, so as not to overwhelm him. Just the other night I tried showing him the best way to skin a flobberworm but he chased me out of his office before I could even get the jar off his shelf!"  

Flobberworms? Harry only knew of one teacher disgusting enough to keep jars of those in his office...but...it couldn't be!  

"I thought demonstrating my prowess at our duelling club would have been enough!" Lockhart rambled on. "But the poor darling must have been too intimidated by me..."  

No, Harry thought. No, no, no, no-  

"Have you tried getting a little more...physical?" the nymph asked, rolling onto her side in the murky pool and running a hand over her ample hip to help get her point across.  

"I must confess that I'm not above using my...sexuality...in these situations, but even that has failed me! I tried to take advantage of the summer heat, asked him if he wouldn't mind my taking off my shirt when we found ourselves alone in the staff room one stifling evening..."  

The nymph's eyes lit up. "And? what happened?"  

"He blast me with a cooling charm! He didn't stop until icicles were dangling from my nose!"  

"Hmmm..." The nymph sighed. "I never thought I'd say this, but perhaps you should just give up."  

"I fear you may be right, dear lady," said Lockhart sadly. "But I must be going – my students shall be here shortly. I have so much to fill their bright, young minds with!" With an elaborate wave towards the painting, he strutted off into the classroom.  

Harry stayed where he was, letting the other students push past him to get to their seats. The girls giggled excitedly as they always did. He wondered what they would say if Harry told them Lockhart had a crush on Professor Snape.  

***  

Harry had been itching to tell Ron about what he'd overheard all day, but when he got back to Gryffindor Tower, he found his friend still sleeping. Getting a little concerned now, Harry pulled the sweat-soaked covers back from his face and gently shook him awake.  

"Urrrggghhh," Ron moaned, "times' it?"  

"Everyone's down at dinner," said Harry, by way of answer. "How are you feeling?"  

"Not so good, mate."  

He didn't look it either. Ron's face was ghastly pale behind his freckles and he was talking through his teeth as if trying to bite back waves of nauseating pain.  

"I think we need to get you to the hospital wing."  

Ron, as though talking required far too much effort, simply nodded.  

Getting there wasn't going to be that easy though. It took three tries before Ron was able to stand and the only way he was going to remain upright was by Harry slinging his friend's arm over his own shoulder and taking most of his weight. They were both panting before they'd even got down the stairs.  

Harry looked around the common room desperately in the hope that someone's appetite had forgone them that night and would still be around to help, but it was deserted. Heaving Ron over his shoulder again, he surrendered himself to the fact they had to make their way to the Hospital Wing alone.  

***  

This was bad. Harry was starting to think he should have left Ron in the common room and gone to fetch help rather than trying to lug him all the way down to the first floor by himself. Ron was still managing, somehow, to shuffle one foot weakly in front of the other, but he wasn't speaking at all, and his eyes kept fluttering closed so Harry had to steer them both through the endless hallways. But they were already on the third floor and Harry really didn't want to leave Ron alone. Better they just push on. With any luck, someone might-  

"Potter!"  

Someone else. Please.  

But, of course, it was Snape who was striding towards them, a storming mess of menace and black robes. "And Weasley! Why are you not at dinner? There is no excuse to be wandering about the castle during these times-" Harry wanted to ask Snape why he was wandering the castle instead of sitting with the other teachers in the Great Hall, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. "-or perhaps, as always, you feel the rules don't apply to you?"  

"Sir - you don't understand – Ron's-" As if to illustrate his point, Ron fell from Harry's arms and collapsed onto the floor. Harry immediately crouched down and began to shake him, repeatedly calling his name, but Ron didn't stir. Harry turned desperately to Snape who had stiffened with shock. "Sir! We need to-"  

"Get out of the way, Potter!" he snapped, pushing Harry to the floor in his haste to get to Ron. He jumped straight into action right away, digging his fingers hard into Ron's neck, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. The thought of being touched by those hands made Harry's skin crawl, but neither he nor Ron were in the position to be choosy right now.  

"What happened?" Snape asked, loosening the buttons of Ron's striped pyjamas to better see the shallow rise and fall of his breathing.  

"I-I don't know!" Harry stammered.  

"Did he ingest something?"  

"I don't think so!"

"Think, Potter!" said Snape, voice echoing down the corridor as he turned his full attention to Harry. "The two of you must have been meddling in something you shouldn't!"  

Harry was spared from answering as a sing-song voice drifted up the corridor. "Oh Severuuuus?" Both he and Snape turned to look simultaneously.  

"There you are!" Lockhart beamed as he rounded the corner and caught sight of the three of them. He didn't seem to question why they were on the floor. "You left before they served dessert! And before I could finish telling you about my latest line of haircare potions – I really think the tea tree and dandelion root shampoo would do wonders for your-"  

"Not now you buffoon!" Snape hissed.  

"I say," said Lockhart, noticing that one of their party was unconscious for the first time, "what's wrong with this poor fellow?"  

"That's what I'm trying to determine!" Snape turned his furious face back to Harry. "But Potter here cares more about saving his own hide than the life of his friend, it seems."  

"We were in the forest!" Harry blurted out. "There were these...these spider things."  

"Weasley was bitten?" asked Snape.  

"No!" There's no way Ron could have kept that to himself. "He was fine! He was just tired today. I thought it was just because we were out so late! All he said last night was that his back was weirdly itchy!"  

Lockhart, who had been babbling away to himself about the time he had once bested an army of giant arachnids single-handedly, and how it was such a shame he had not been there to help, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He was staring at Ron, eyes fixed on his torso. Then, in a voice Harry had never heard him use before, he said, "Open his shirt."  

Both Harry and Snape just stared at him.  

"Do it!" he commanded, kneeling down on the floor next to them. Snape hastily obeyed, deftly unbuttoning Ron's shirt and revealing his freckled chest. Harry watched as Lockhart, with none of his usual flair or pretence to be seen, began examining Ron's torso, kneading and prodding at his friend's flesh as if he actually knew what to look for. When he got to the lower left side of Ron's stomach, he froze.  

"Oh dear," he whispered to himself. "Nothing to do but cut it out I'm afraid."  

"Cut it-?" Snape spluttered. "Just what in Salazar's name are you going on about, man?!"  

"Oh no!" Harry interrupted finally. "I'm not letting you do anything to him! Remember what you did to my arm?! We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey!"  

"There's no time, dear boy!" Lockhart exclaimed, pulling out his wand from somewhere deep amongst his periwinkle robes. "And I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey, wonderful as she is, would be in over her head with this. I, however, know what I'm doing."  Lockhart looked at Snape over Ron's body. "I really do this time," he added.  

Snape, his expression unfathomable, opened his mouth to say something. Harry hoped he was finally going to insist on taking Ron as far away from Lockhart as possible and get him the appropriate help. But all that came out was a strangled gasp, that Harry closely followed with one of his own when something in Ron's chest...moved.  

"Immobulus!" said Lockhart, pointing his wand at the protruding mass under Ron's skin before anyone could stop him. The...thing...slowed in its progress but continued travelling upwards. "Blast, it's a strong one," he muttered. "Severus. I need you to keep the curse going – don't overdo it though. It'll affect Weasley, too, but there's really no other way..."  

Snape looked as though he was about to object, but something – the authoritative tone to Lockhart's voice perhaps -  made him whip out his own wand, aim it at Ron's chest, and begin chanting some unknown curse in a low, melodic hum.  

"Now, Harry?" said Lockhart, kindly but firmly. "I'm going to need you to support Weasley's head, he may start jerking around a bit, do you think you can do that?"  

Harry just nodded, unable to speak. He shifted his position so as he was crouched at the top of Ron's head and slid his hands underneath to cushion the bony part of his skull. He looked anxiously between Snape, still focused intently on the thing now inching up Ron's ribcage, and Lockhart who, with a flick of his wrist, transfigured his raised wand into a shining, wicked scalpel. Harry swallowed. Ron, please survive so you can forgive me for letting this happen! Or punch me in the face – either way just please be okay!  

"Severus?" Lockhart positioned his blade horrifyingly close to Ron's skin. "I know you're concentrating but listen to me. Once it's out it will try to burrow into the nearest living thing and that will, most likely, be me. You must kill it as quickly as possible. Understand?"  

Snape, looking several shades paler than usual, jerked his head by way of acknowledgement, never once breaking his curse.  

"Ready, then? One."  

Harry found himself wishing Hermione was there.  

"Two."  

Merlin, he wished Colin Creevey was there! Anyone other than these two!  

"Three."  

Thick, dark blood poured from Ron's skin as the blade pierced him. So much blood! Lockhart must have done something wrong! But he kept slicing downward, slow and steady. Snape hovering over the whole time, humming his strange words.  

A sickening screech, not unlike that of a mandrake, filled the air. The sound was garbled and bubbling through the blood which pooled endlessly within Ron's chest. Harry, wanting desperately to look away from the scene but finding himself unable to, thought he could make out something white wriggling angrily within Ron's wound. He watched with horror as a sharp, insect-like leg jutted out, then another, and another, flailing in the air in a frantic attempt to defend itself.  

Then it burst out of Ron's chest.  

Harry's vision was suddenly obscured as a splattering of red coated his glasses. He quickly shook them off, figuring his own limited vision was preferable to seeing nothing at all. He began to feel Ron's body jerk underneath him and tried to put all his focus into supporting his friend's head, but it was rather difficult with the strange creature rearing before him.  

Harry couldn't see it clearly, but he could see enough. It was like a spider and not like a spider at the same time. About half the size of Harry's fist, its body was long, pale and slightly bulbous at the end. Six bony-looking legs that ended in razor-sharp points wriggled helplessly, trying to grasp on to whatever has disturbed it. It must have had a mouth (otherwise how else could it make that awful, ear-piercing sound?) but, for the life of him, Harry couldn't work out where it was.  

Snape had gotten the worst of Ron's blood. It had splashed across his face and was dripping into his eyes and mouth. Momentarily blinded, he swore and tried to wipe the worst of it from his face but only succeeded in smearing it further around. Curse broken, and perhaps sensing an easy target, the creature rounded on him.  

But Lockhart was too quick for it. Harry watched, amazed, as his normally useless Defence teacher thrust out his arm and batted at the creature. He uttered a pointless 'Shoo!' at it while attempting to push it away. Instead of obliging, it lunged.  

Each horrible leg wrapped around Lockhart's forearm, tearing through his fine silk robes with ease. "Now, Severus!" he shouted before his voice dissolved into an agonised scream when the legs pierced his skin and began to disappear underneath.  

Snape didn't need to be told twice. A stream of white-hot flames burst out of his wand aimed directly in line with the not-spider that had now fully latched onto Lockhart's arm. It let out a shriek more awful than ever before shrivelling in on itself and falling to the ground with a hollow thud.  

Lockhart breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Severus. That was good thinking using a fire-based charm, but if I were you, I would have-"  

But Snape wasn't listening. He was crouched over Ron, who thankfully had stopped jerking but was now lying much too still and covered in far too much blood. Snape began muttering yet another spell and trailing his wand over the large gash that was Ron's stomach. Harry marvelled as the blood began to flow back into his friend's body and the wound started to knit itself back together almost instantly.  

Harry turned to Lockhart and tried to ask several questions at once. What was that thing? How did it get inside Ron? Is he going to be okay? But it ended up coming out something like, "Wha...howdit...kay?"  

"A Scuttler," said Lockhart, apparently getting the gist. He nudged the shrivelled, burnt thing lying on the floor with his foot warily. "They aren't usually found in this country, but then again neither are Acromantula. Your friend here must have disturbed some of their larvae while you were off gallivanting about the forest. So lucky I-" Lockhart coughed when Snape shot him a glare, "-I mean, we were here! A moment longer and it would have reached his heart, and then...well...let's not dwell on that too much now, shall we?"  

Harry felt like he was going to be sick.  

***

It wasn't long before more help arrived in the form of Professor McGonagall. Who, in turn, arranged for more help to arrive in the form of Madam Pomfrey. By the time the medi-witch arrived Ron, miraculously, was sitting up, groggy and groaning but very much still alive. She still insisted on sending him to St. Mungos for a proper check-up, but that didn't stop Harry grinning from ear to ear.

"Urgh, Harry?" said Ron once he had been bundled onto a gurney.  

"Yeah, mate? I'm here."  

"Harry. There you are! I had this awful dream...'bout a spider..."  

"It wasn't a dream, Ron! Lockhart saved you! And Snape, too!"  

Ron laughed, clutched his stomach again the pain of it, then laughed again. "Good one!" he said, trying and failing not to giggle. "Snape and Lockhart! Snockhart!" He kept alternating between laughing and wincing in pain while they wheeled him away.  

"Well...that's gratitude for you," said Lockhart.  

Snape, who had stood back looking rather shell-shocked the whole time Ron was being checked over, finally spoke. "How did you know what to do?" he asked, touching Lockhart's arm.  

Lockhart flushed. "I, uh, came across it once or twice. Did you know I trained as a Healer for a time? You don't forget when one of those comes rushing through the door! I was rather good at it if I do say so myself. No money to be made, sadly. Had to give it up. Now haircare – that's where the money is! As I was telling you-"  

"You're bleeding," Snape interrupted.  

Lockhart was still covered in so much blood it was difficult to tell which was his, but sure enough when he raised his trembling arm, dark red trickled steadily from his many wounds. "Aaha!" Lockhart exclaimed, slightly manically. "I'd clean forgot! Must be all the adrenaline, you know? Perfectly natural response. Oh dear, I'm starting to feel rather faint..."  

Lockhart wobbled unsteadily but Snape caught him just in time.  

"We'll go to my office," said Snape. "I have blood replenishing potions. Then we'll see to your arm." Then he added in a slightly lower tone. "And after that...my quarters are close by...you look like you could use a stiff one."  

Still with a supporting arm around Lockhart, Snape spun him around and began carefully guiding him in the direction of the dungeons. Lockhart craned his neck to look at something just behind Harry, who turned to see the nymph from earlier had bustled her way into the nearest painting. She stood between a pair of armoured knights who were looking away awkwardly, probably because she was still naked, although somehow still strategically covered with waterlilies. She grinned at Lockhart from behind her sopping wet hair and gave him a thumbs up. One that Harry saw him briefly return.

[panharmonium]

okay, honest question about 5.11 -

are we seriously supposed to watch this episode and still come down on arthur’s side?

i’m not saying that’s what the show wants us to do.  on the contrary, i think they actually do a pretty good job this episode of NOT hammering us in the face with “you’re supposed to root for camelot,” which i appreciate, because there have definitely been other times when they’ve approached the moral dilemma of magical oppression and have kind of punked out at the end - most noticeably in ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ when they finally force us to look merlin’s cognitive dissonance in the eye by putting him in the position of saving uther from a magical youth fighting for freedom, and then they back off from that uncomfortable question by having kilgharrah say “you, like i, must hold hope that arthur will bring about a new age, an age where the likes of you and i are respected once again.”  

they don’t quite do that in this episode, which i really appreciate, because i just cannot see how they would have been able to pull it off without sounding ridiculously disingenuous.

arthur is WRONG.  

(i’ll get to merlin later, he’s...he’s got a whole different issue going on, but let’s just deal with arthur first.)

that whole conversation where he interrogates kara in front of the court - just look at it:

were you part of a cohort of saxons who attacked an arms shipment bound for camelot?

yes.

and were you acting under the orders of morgana pendragon?

what i did, i did for myself.  for my people, and for our right to be free.

i have no quarrel with the druids. 

i have spent my life on the run because of my beliefs, and seen those i have loved killed.

once, maybe.  but i’m not my father.

you don’t kill those with magic?  it is not i, arthur pendragon, who needs to answer for my crimes.  it is you.  you and your father have brutally and mercilessly heaped misery on my kind.  it is you who has turned a peaceful people to war, and it is you and camelot that will pay the price.

are we supposed to look at this girl and condemn her?  nothing she says is wrong.  

whenever we encounter these magical rebel types, the show always tries to play it like ‘well uhhhhhh they’re a little extreme......i mean......they kill people 0.0,’ as if camelot’s regime hasn’t been killing magical people all along.  like - kara stabs that soldier when she’s escaping from the cells, and the show kind of plays mordred’s reaction as...‘omg she killed someone oh no what a baddie,’ but dude!  the soldiers are about to kill her!!!!!  she’s running for her life!  killing a guard is nothing merlin and arthur haven’t done a hundred times, when escaping from captivity on their own adventures, but it’s never been framed as some sort of evil thing, for them.  why is kara the only one branded as a sinner?  a knight’s life isn’t more valuable than any of the children uther drowned.  a knight’s murder isn’t more deserving of reprisal.  

the girl’s murdered innocent men in cold blood.  we are at war.  i must be resolute.

we hear arthur say that and we kind of just want to shake him like - CAMELOT has murdered innocent people in cold blood!  if arthur can use “we are at war” to justify killing someone who has magic, then the same justification should apply to magic-users attempting to kill him.  camelot declared war on magic-users decades ago.  these people are fighting for their lives.

arthur is showing his father’s reasoning here.  his own rules don’t apply to him.  his rationale, his justifications, they only go one way.  there is so much to pick apart in his response to this situation - he tries to make it sound like ‘the problem isn’t magic, it’s that you murdered some guys,’ (he tells kara “you stand before the court not because of an act of sorcery or sedition, but because of an act of murder”) but literally in the previous episode he sends out a squadron to hunt down finna (and merlin, unknowingly) just because gaius said finna practiced the old religion.  

finna had killed no one.  she’d done absolutely nothing wrong.  but arthur went after her and said she ‘must be found and brought to trial.”

brought to trial?  for WHAT????  she hadn’t DONE anything.  nothing except be a follower of the old religion.

and his hypocrisy!  ‘it is [people like morgana] that have terrorized camelot and forced us to outlaw such practices’ - really, arthur?  literally two episodes ago, you went the cauldron of arianrhod and used magic to save your wife from an enchantment.  at the beginning of season 5, you used magic to summon your father’s ghost.  at the beginning of season 4, you used magic to try to save uther’s life.  

arthur has always been willing to use magic for his own purposes, when it suits him.  all while continuing to restrict others from doing the same.

this show is big on pushing the narrative that “arthur’s different from uther” - and he is - but how different, really?  seriously.  in the end, how different are they?

i feel like because we are fond of him - because we’ve gotten to know him personally, in settings where we can temporarily forget the impact of his policies - we’re sometimes asked to sort of look past the real harm that is constantly being done in his name.  like - ‘it’s okay for us to let it slide when arthur persecutes people with magic, because he has valid reasons to think magic is a threat.’  but what, then it’s not okay for someone like kara to want him taken out?  

she has valid reasons to think ARTHUR is a threat.  he IS a threat!!!  to people like her!  that’s the reality.  these people have every justified reason to want arthur off the throne.  they have every rightful reason to riot.  they have EVERY RATIONAL REASON TO REBEL AND REMOVE HIM FROM HIS SEAT OF POWER.  

if this were star wars, they’d be the rebellion.  we’d be rooting for them!  it is not wrong for an oppressed population to rise up against their oppressor!!!!!!!!!!  we all know this!!!!!!!!  just because we like arthur on a personal level doesn’t make it less true.  we CANNOT fault these people for refusing to just sit back and wait for arthur to someday wake up and give them their rights.  that never happens.  that is never how people become free.  we can’t fault these people for not choosing to be like merlin, for not choosing to hover in a morally questionable limbo for years and years and years and become complicit in their own oppression.

(and again, i’ll...i’ll deal with merlin later.  he keeps fucking up and i hate to see it but i also have to remember that he is a victim of the same oppressive policies as kara and mordred so it’s like...his case is more complicated.)

but arthur.  i honestly feel like the most telling moment is when he gives kara that opportunity to “repent,” which is supposed to be like ‘oh wow look how benevolent,’ only the thing is he’s completely missed the point.  the point is not that she needs to apologize for her crimes.  the point is that she hasn’t done anything wrong.  

no.

it isn’t.

the way they cut to merlin at that particular line is devastating.  it’s this...reminder of how far we have wandered, from who he used to be.  he used to think this, too.  he used to fight for himself, too; he used to come home to gaius angry and upset saying “i want to be seen; i want to be free.”  and now he’s just...locked into this impossible place where he can either ignore the veritable chorus of dragons, seers, and literal gods who keep telling him he has an absolute responsibility to make sure arthur triumphs, or listen to their counsel and thus betray himself, and his own people along with him.  and all this while still living under threat of execution himself - what is he supposed to do?  

this episode calls back so strongly to ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ which is the first place where the show confronts this problem so directly, when merlin outs himself to gilli and gilli challenges him about his choices:

i know how it feels.  i understand.

then you understand why i have to fight.  if uther is killed, so what?  how many of our kind have died at his hands?  how many more will?  it's time those with magic fought back.

gilli - 

you can't tell me what to do!  

you need to learn to use your magic for good.  that is its true purpose; it's not meant for your own vanity.

i'm not going to apologise for who i am!  you can be a servant and - and pretend you're less than them -

no, that is not what I do - 

no?!  you're defending the king!  protecting a man that would have you dead!

i'm protecting you!

you've been pretending for so long now that you've actually forgotten who you are.

merlin gets so upset by this.  he’s visibly shaken, and on the verge of tears, and he weakly protests, and then the next shot is of him lying awake in his bed, agonizedly stewing over it, because deep down he knows that gilli is right.  

this conflict has never been resolved.  i would add, as we move toward the spot where i am now in season 5, that it’s not so much that merlin has “forgotten” who he is, exactly, but that he’s been forced to abandon who he is, for the sake of his mission.  and most of the time he tries not to think about that, because it’s the only way he can survive, but he feels deeply conflicted about it still.

watching 5.11, it is so easy for me to get frustrated at merlin, because i feel like he should do more, in this episode, and do the Right Thing, but honestly at this point the only way for him to do the right thing is to reveal himself.  that’s it.  there is no other option for him.  we’ve exhausted all other avenues; there is no other step he can take.  he is trapped, in his current situation, and his deception is not just hurting him, now, it’s...it’s an abdication of his responsibility to everyone like him.  

i don’t like saying that.  because in real life it’s never okay to just say like...’oh, you need to out yourself because you have a responsibility to the community.’  that’s never okay.  a person’s primary responsibility is to their own safety, when they’re living as a marginalized, threatened person.  

so in real life, i would never say that.  but this is fiction, first of all, and it’s more complicated than that, for merlin, because he is already in a position of responsibility over these people, whether he wants to be or not.  the decisions he makes are things that impact their lives.  

and secondly - how threatened is he, really?  he is supposedly the most powerful sorcerer who’s ever lived.  do we really think arthur could successfully get merlin up on a platform and hang him?  do we really think arthur could hold merlin in a cell?  when merlin was newer to intentional magic and unstudied, absolutely, yes.  but now?

the risk merlin faces now isn’t necessarily to his life.  it’s to his lifestyle.  he might have to leave camelot.  he might lose all his friends.  and these are valid fears and i UNDERSTAND, because merlin has never felt safe and he has so rarely felt loved and i UNDERSTAND how paralytically frightening it is for him to consider doing anything that would jeopardize even the tiniest bit of belonging that he has been able to scrape together for himself, but i do not see that he has another option - not one that doesn’t poison his soul, at least.  he knows that what is happening to kara in this episode is wrong.  he tells arthur “free them both.”  he knows that’s what should have happened.  but then arthur executes her, and merlin does nothing to stop it, and i hate to put one more burden on merlin’s young shoulders but the fact of the matter is that this cycle of violence will never end until merlin ends it himself.  merlin cannot continue to stay trapped here between the dictates of destiny and his own sense of right and wrong.  it is killing him, and now it’s killing other people, too.

it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.  

merlin desperately needs to remember that.  he needs to remember it for his own sake, not just for the people around him.  he is one of them.  their struggle is his struggle.  it is not the magical community’s fault that merlin has more information than they do - how are they supposed to know that arthur is supposed to be some kind of great saviour?  without knowing that, why would they ever choose to bow to him?  he has done nothing to earn their trust.  they have no reason to approach this situation the way merlin has, with infinite patience and a willingness to suffer constant injustices.  

merlin has to understand that.  he has to know that.  he can’t condemn them for fighting for their freedom.  they haven’t done anything wrong.  and i think he does know that, deep inside.  but he is trapped, where he is now, and the only way out is for him to tell the truth.  

the truth will set you free.  it might upend your entire life, but it will set you free.  and it is past time that merlin was free.  from camelot’s oppression, and from the oppressive dictates of destiny, too - if destiny had shut up for two seconds about ‘don’t trust mordred,’ we wouldn’t necessarily be in this situation now.  

i guess overall this episode leaves me feeling pretty grim.  and sad, i guess, because honestly like - it’s hard to for me to even root for arthur, as we enter the finale.  i can’t condemn mordred for running away to join the rebellion.  i don’t think morgana’s ideals are exactly pure, obviously; we’ve already seen several seasons ago how her goals have slid from ‘liberation’ to ‘power’ - but mordred is only motivated by the fight against injustice.  he’s in it for freedom.  and i can’t fault him for that, because he isn’t wrong.  i can’t fault him for giving up merlin’s identity, either, because merlin’s been treating him like crap from the very beginning (and again, yes, it’s more complicated than that - merlin is in an impossible position; he has reasons to trust all of the people who make prophecies at him - but still.  that doesn’t make mordred less wronged.)

so it’s kind of like - i’m going into the finale feeling like i shouldn’t really be rooting for our heroes.  which is kind of...depressing.

i mean.  yeah. 

he kind of does.

[veryvincible]

Ive seen a few blogs talking about Tony Stark with OCD and I was wondering what your thoughts on it were? I know it's not canon but would it be an okay headcanon?

Oh, goodness. This is a doozy.

First of all, I do want to give the obligatory "any headcanon is okay" when it comes to stuff like this, because some people do pick up comfort characters that aren't exactly like them and then use headcanons to push their characterization around until they become a more efficient catharsis vessel, and there's really nothing wrong with that in a space where characters are pushed around all the time anyway. Your headcanons are yours, and you interact with media how it best suits you. Just don't go talking like this is The Way The Character Absolutely Definitely Is, because not only is that misleading, but also it's kind of stepping on other people who need different headcanons for other reasons.

Now that that's out of the way.

You've come to the right place! I have actually been diagnosed with OCD and have been dealing with it now for a long, long while; funnily enough, the OCD is what led me to worry about the OCD, which is what led me to research the OCD in-depth for many, many years. Not to brag or anything. B) Like, literally not to brag, because it's a mental illness. Anyway, jokes aside.

I'm going to go by the DSM-5 and personal experience with the diagnostic process for now. I know some people have their gripes with the DSM, but it's what we're going with.

Before that, though, I do want to lay some things down here. Though it's not outlined by the DSM exactly, it's common among mental health professionals and people with OCD to categorize different symptoms based on causes of OCD. Because OCD is inherently ego-dystonic, your intrusive thoughts are going to attack whatever it is you care about most-- people with primarily contaminant symptoms might fear illness, people with primarily aggressive symptoms might fear hurting others, etc. There's no standard for what these categories are, really. Different places teach different things, and some people disregard them entirely. But it's good to know they're out there, some examples being contaminant and aggressive OCD as mentioned before, as well as pathologic doubt/completeness, religion, self-control, and superstition. There are more, less, or different categories depending on where you look, so we can just leave that there.

Now, onto the actual diagnostic criteria.

In order to be diagnosed with OCD, you need the presence of obsessions OR compulsions, OR both. So, you kind of don't need the whole set to have OCD, though it's argued that some people view "primarily obsessive" and "primarily compulsive" types of OCD as... plain old OCD. "Pure O OCD" especially has been criticized, as its based entirely on the concept of compulsions being in one's head as opposed to external, which then raises the question of whether or not we're defining mental illness by the sufferers or the observers. Regardless, this is what the current DSM says: obsessions, compulsions, or both.

They must be time-consuming (>1hr/day), cause clinically significant distress, or cause impairment in social, occupational, or other areas of functioning. So, could you be considered OCD if you're perfectly functional to the outside world but dysfunctional psychologically? Yes! Could you be considered OCD if you're mostly okay with the compulsions (often seen in people who believe their compulsions are rational responses to rational fears), but you can't function in day-to-day life? Yes! OCD is defined by how it affects you, and there are so, so many ways that it can do that.

The symptoms of OCD can't be caused by physiological effects of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

The disturbance cannot be better explained by the symptoms of another disorder (i.e. if excessive worries are better explained by an anxiety disorder, you're more likely to be diagnosed with something along the lines of GAD; if your difficulty discarding possessions is more in line with a hoarding disorders, you're more likely to be diagnosed with a hoarding disorder). One thing I would like to mention here is that this is often where the DSM breaks down when it comes to practice rather than theory. I'd like to specifically outline the example under this segment of the DSM that refers to "guilty ruminations, as in major depressive disorder". By these guidelines, would you be able to have both MDD and OCD if your OCD has mostly intrusive symptoms?

Well, yes, actually. There's a lot of discourse surrounding it, but here's the thing. Diagnosis is something meant to put you into a category so you can either seek treatment or get accommodations. For mental illnesses, physical illnesses... anything. This is it. I myself have both MDD and OCD, and part of why this is, is because there's an overlap between symptoms... but that's all it is. An overlap, borderlining comorbidity. And there are plenty of people who have similar diagnoses.

You'll see why I'm bringing this up in a second.

Let's go back to the diagnostic criteria and take it one-by-one.

Obsessions are defined by (1) and (2):

Recurrent and persistent thoughts, urges, or images that are experienced, at some time during the disturbance, as intrusive and unwanted, and that in most individuals cause marked anxiety or distress. The individual attempts to ignore or suppress such thoughts, urges, or images, or to neutralize hem with some other thought or action (i.e., by performing a compulsion).

Does Tony experience obsessions? Well, he very well could.

There used to be a criterion in the now-outdated DSM-IV that outlined obsessions could NOT be "simply excessive worries about real-life problems." But in the DSM-5, this was dropped. So, an obsession, by current standards, most certainly can be defined as an excessive worry about real-life problems.

Whether or not Tony's worry is excessive is debatable. We're all aware of Clint's sentiment in New Avengers that basically boils the team's state of being down to "we're extraordinary people, so we have extraordinary problems." Tony's worries are extraordinary, but... are they excessive?

I could go either way on this argument. Due to Tony's massive influence and his feelings of responsibility, we can all see why these worries might be considered realistic and average. But it's those feelings of responsibility that would make a better argument for "excessiveness"; he has taken the stance quite a few times that he's been "the only one who could see what needed to be done", or something akin to that, at least. It's not just that he has serious problems and he's concerned about serious solutions. It's that he feels such a sense of responsibility and guilt that every single problem on the planet happens to be a problem he's obligated to consider by his own standards, and if he doesn't consider those problems, he's an awful garbage man. Again, by his own standards.

One could also easily argue that he could fall prey to both aggressive-type obsessions and pathologic doubt-type obsessions, given that he's terrified of hurting people or causing harm unknowingly and that he's never 100% sure of himself, always "almost certain", and often looking to others (like Happy in Civil War, for example) to vent and try to half-validate himself as someone who really is doing the right thing.

These very obviously cause him distress, and one could argue that his Atlas-like anxiety with regards to keeping the world afloat is a huge factor in his mental cycle of thinking he's not doing enough, which means he's not enough, which means he deserves to die, which means he actually should die if he's not doing anything right, which means he has to try really, really hard to do things right, but he'll never do everything he needs to do, so he's not doing enough, so he's not enough, so he deserves to die.

And the alcoholism could easily come into play here, being a default coping mechanism for almost anything he'd encountered, obsessive or otherwise.

Now for compulsions.

Compulsions are defined by (1) and (2):

Repetitive behaviors (e.g., hand washing, ordering, checking) or mental acts (e.g., praying, counting, repeating words silently) that the individual feels driven to perform in response to an obsession or according to rules that must be applied rigidly. The behaviors or mental acts are aimed at preventing or reducing anxiety or distress, or preventing some dreaded event or situation; however, these behaviors or mental acts are not connected in a realistic way with what they are designed to neutralize or prevent, or are clearly excessive.

So, we're going back to the obsessions outlined earlier. One thing I neglected to mention there was what he's referred to as one of his biggest fears, and I neglected to mention it because of how it ties into potential compulsions.

He's mentioned that someone "taking over his brain" is possibly the worst thing that could happen to him, given that he is a man with incredible influence and incredible intelligence and if his mind falls into the wrong hands, it could have (and has had) disastrous consequences. We see a lot of Tony trying to protect his mind as a result, always having backups, always having alternatives, always having contingency plans. This could also be considered a response to an obsession with regards to “mental contamination”, which makes sense.

It's similar with the responsibility-induced anxiety; he made how many AIs, now? He quite literally can't let himself die. He needs to be up, awake, present, alive. He needs to continue doing The Right Thing. We see the same sorts of behaviors even when he's alive and kicking-- he's often in his lab into the late hours of the night. He canonically works multiple jobs at his company. He runs around holding babies around the world, for God's sake. He believes everything deserves to be cared for, loved, and he believes he has to be the one to love it, and so he does, taking up so much of his time and so much of his energy every single day in a desperate attempt to make sure he's done all he can.

This is a man whose every day life could be considered scheduled compulsions if you really wanted it to be, one after the other, in a never-ending cycle of behaviors that he canonically won't ever be satisfied with.

Tony certainly could have obsessions. He certainly could have compulsions. He certainly could have OCD.

It's worth it to mention that self-blame, even for the smallest little details, is extremely common in people with OCD, and... That's also a very Tony thing, isn't it?

All that to say...

Do I think he does?

Well, not... really. I mean, I don't very, very strongly believe that he doesn't. And a lot of neurodivergent people have created incredibly thorough explanations as to why a character not intended to be one way might still be that way-- not even as a headcanon, but quite literally, they just are that way. This is especially common among characters coded (intentionally or otherwise) to have things like autism and ADHD. Whether or not a character "has" something is difficult to decipher, but if you can outline all the symptoms and you can't come up with any other explanation for them, then, well... You've got a neurodivergent character on your hands.

But that's the thing. You certainly can explain Tony's feelings and decisions with a diagnosis of MDD and alcohol abuse. You can. Plenty of people don't really want to, especially with some more toxic beliefs in the mental health community that regard less stigmatized illnesses as somehow also less severe or less validating, and regards MDD as "just depression" in a way that more stigmatized illnesses aren't. 

I don't feel terribly represented in Tony as someone with OCD-- I feel represented with almost every aspect of his struggles with mental health, but I rarely ever read through comics going, "there! There's my OCD thing!" Which isn't to say that it's never happened on a subconscious level, because... I mean, illness bleeds into every aspect of you. It's terribly difficult to find where one part of you ends and the other begins when there's so much overlap. But personally, Tony having OCD isn’t something that I really consider when I read or write (which is part of why I like having Ty Stone around so much-- I can pin a bunch of shit on him that I think Tony doesn’t have, and then I get to write everything I want while still keeping things true to the way I see them).

There are other sufferers of OCD who must certainly relate to Tony, and probably exclusively go "There's my OCD thing!" while reading his comics. I can see why.

So, again.

Do I think he has OCD? Eh. Not really my thing. But I think canon does what canon does, mental illnesses have plenty of overlap, and he meets the criteria enough that if you were to say he had both MDD and OCD, I wouldn't feel any reason to argue, especially if you’re saying it to better relate to him.

[softjeon]

In love with your dark side | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Beauty!Taehyung x Beast!Yoongi • Genre: Fluff, bit of Angst | Rating: Teen and Up | Beautyandthebeast!AU / Fairytale!AU • Words: 5k | AO3 | Gifset Trailer • Disclaimer: anxiety, mentioning of a curse

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳ Yoongi had tried not to think about what would happen if someone saw him but his mind had wandered through all of their possible reactions anyway: screaming, laughing, shock… he’s had so many horrible encounters in his mind and yet the boy in front of him didn’t react like in any of his thoughts.

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The night sky had been covered by large black rain clouds and the rain that poured from it was so hard it could almost be called hail. He looked up as the rain came down and sighed, pulling his coat a little tighter around his body, trying to keep his bag from being soaked. The street was lined with cars down both sides and most of the street was devoid of light but the few streetlamps. Taehyung hadn’t been able to afford a bigger shop in a better part of town. The crime rate in this section of the city was higher than anywhere but so far, they hadn’t cared much about his small photography shop.

There wasn’t much expensive stuff in there anyways.

The wind picked up from nowhere, but Taehyung quickly rushed down to the metro station to catch a train to the upper side. When he finally was at his destination and walking up the office building, Taehyung rubbed the rain out of his face before the excitement to see Mr. Min again replaced the ugly feeling of wet pants sticking to his body or his hair being a mess right now. 

Taehyung was a very punctual person and Yoongi loved that about him because it meant that he knew exactly when the other would arrive. He could do real work before he came and when the clock ticked closer to their meeting time he would place all the important stuff aside and pretend to be busy while secretly watching the clock. This time however it was fifteen minutes past their usual time and Yoongi frowned. He had heard the rumble of thunder, but he hadn’t thought that it would keep Taehyung from coming. Luckily, it was just then that he heard the younger’s steps.

“Come in!” Taehyung always knocked and he always asked him to come in instead of opening the door (he unlocked it about ten minutes before Tae would come in so that he could keep sitting at his desk and appear busy and while Tae turned to close the door he could give him a quick once over). When he saw how drenched the younger was, actually dripping on his carpet he gasped in shock. “What happened?”

“Ehm,” Taehyung placed his bag with the camera down, somewhere where it wouldn’t anger Yoongi to see it and then shrugged off his jacket. “The rain happened. Don’t you hear it? There’s a storm going on outside. Do you think you have a towel or something for my hair?” He smiled through the wet strains of hair. Usually it was curled up a little, but with it being straightened out right now it covered his eyes.

“Why didn’t you take a cab?” He went around the table and quickly helped Tae out of his jacket. “Of course, I have a towel upstairs - and dry clothes. You’ll get pneumonia if you walk around in those clothes. It wouldn’t make a difference if you went swimming with your clothes on!”

Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle, thankful for his help. “I would get a cab if I would have the money for it but unfortunately I can only afford the monthly ticket for the metro. But it’s fine.” He smiled at Yoongi, who looked a lot more comfortable with him being around. “Will you tell me where I can find your bathroom then?” 

Yoongi blinked. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone had enough money to make uncomfortable situations more comfortable. Calling a cab was something he hadn’t wasted a second thought about back when he was still going out. “Just follow me.” Before he stepped on the stairs he turned around again, hesitating, “Please leave your shoes downstairs. And turn up your pants please. The carpet upstairs doesn’t like moisture.”

The younger had simply nodded, following Yoongi’s orders and him upstairs where he brought him clothes he could change into. He vanished into the bathroom quickly, drying his hair off with a towel before he joined back with Yoongi in his office.

It was somehow a lot familiar, as if they had done it a million times by now when in reality it wasn’t – but they clicked. In a weird way, they had much more alike than what the appearance might seem like and yet, so much that was so different about them. They were working side by side silently. Taehyung was making copies, sorting in files in alphabetical order while Yoongi was doing something that Tae thought seemed more like witchcraft.

Bringing a few files over to the chair with him, Taehyung sat down in front of his boss. “I filled in an application for a free spot at the museum of art’s today.” He blurted out with a smile, blushing lightly at his confession. Taehyung hadn’t even told Jimin, yet. “My last series would fit perfectly into the theme…but I don’t know. Lots of great artists apply.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it wouldn’t mean the world to him to have his photos placed in a museum one day. 

When Taehyung came to him, Yoongi let his gaze wander over his form again. He looked different in his clothes and even though he normally swore that a well-tailored dress shirt and fitted pants could do wonders for someone visual appeal he wasn’t sure if it was true for Taehyung. The younger always wore clothes that seemed to fit in absolutely no category - and yet suited him perfectly. Like the shirt with the crazy pattern he had worn last time or the plaid pants that reminded Yoongi of the skirt his mother wore for Christmas. 

It was obvious that Taehyung was really excited about this spot so because he wanted to see him happy and he didn’t see any fault in it he suggested, “Oh, that’s amazing. I’m sure they’ll see the potential in your work. Do you want me to donate to the museum in the name of the company with a side note that you’re employed there?”

It was a nice thought and yet, it left Taehyung with a heavy feeling in his stomach, so he quickly shook his head. “No, it’s really kind of you and if you want to donate in general then please do...but don’t say my name. Wouldn’t that be like blackmailing? Or using my ‘connections’? That wouldn’t be fair.” He smiled at Yoongi, still grateful for the thought of helping him. “I know it’s important to have those, to know someone that knows somebody but…,” He sighed, leaning back at his chair while pulling his knees up. “I’d rather be known for my art, for what it portrays. I want it to speak for itself. But if I get the spot, promise me to come by please. I’d love to show you.”

Taehyung let his gaze wander over Yoongi’s features, the dark veins almost reaching over his neck, his eyes seemingly darker than the night before and he wondered if he really didn’t feel any pain if this was just some weird condition no one ever heard of. He had tried to google it, but there was nothing he could find. It was strangely fascinating and beautiful, and he would have loved to trace all of them, feeling his skin under his fingertips to know if it was just as soft as he imagined it, all over his… wait what. Taehyung shook himself out of his sudden thoughts, cheeks blushing, and he quickly averted his gaze. He was getting tired - that’s all. 

“Of course,” Yoongi noticed Taehyung’s gazes every now and then how the lingered a little too long or were a little too focused. He had learnt to not be too uncomfortable about it because Taehyung never made comments about his looks or flinched back when their hand’s brushed so he figured Taehyung’s interest in him was still that of a photographer: Seeing something morbid and ugly could become beautiful if you just shifted your focus a little and tried to see it in a different light. He even stopped wearing turtlenecks because he hated them and with Taehyung around he felt like he could be a little more himself.

“Come!” Taehyung almost yelled and jumped up from his chair, motioning for Yoongi to follow him as he gathered all the copies he made earlier. “You need to help me now.” Taehyung grinned brightly at him, when Yoongi just did as he said and sat down on the couch that he had in his office, although no one was waiting on there anymore or sipping on coffee. He had no customers, new offerors or anyone else here. The last one that had been in here had sealed his fate after all.

Taehyung brought everything he had done all night over and placed it onto the small coffee table and on the floor and Yoongi’s lap, before placing a coffee mug close to his boss (knowing he might need it). “You need to help me sort this as I don’t know what those mean.” He simply sat on the floor, right next to Yoongi’s feet, leaning against his legs lightly as he held up the first paper. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t understand what’s in them or you don’t know how to sort them alphabetically?” He had an amused look on his face as he teased the other slightly even though he could understand. Sometimes he wasn’t sure either where to place a file like when a company’s name had changed but it made more sense to place the new files with the old ones or when he only ever got in contact with a certain person and could remember their name better than that of their tiny little company or when he just wanted to have something right beside him because he needed it so often instead of getting up and getting it from the other part of the bureau. It had made his help crazy when he had still employed someone to help him in his office. So, in this case Tae actually did help him and it wasn’t just a farce to keep him around.

“If I get the spot though,” Taehyung didn’t look up from the papers and kept placing them neatly where it was supposed to go, “Will you come and visit the museum like…” His voice sounded a little softer, almost timid and shy as he placed the file down and took another. His heart was beating fast and Taehyung felt nervous to ask. “Like we could visit it together, then I could tell you about the photos and… yeah. Only if you want to.” Taehyung was glad for the position he was in, sitting on the ground and leaning against Yoongi’s legs, where he didn’t have to face the other right now or else he would see that he was actually blushing. 

Of course, he had heard Tae suggest it before, but he had been sure it was just a politeness thing. Surely Tae couldn’t think that he would actually be able to go out. “I, uhm, I can try and see if they would make an exception for us and let us in at night. Or maybe on a holiday where they would be closed.” He would need to get big sunglasses and gloves and a scarf that he could push up to his nose and a cap or a hooded jacket maybe.

Taehyung looked over his shoulder with a smile, “I don’t mind when. However, you feel most comfortable then. We’ve got to wait and see if I get the spot anyways.” He grinned at Yoongi and wrapped his arm around his legs, as he returned his attention to the task at hand. But he wasn’t able to let his thoughts wander to how it would be like to meet Yoongi somewhere else than his office.

Taehyung was sorting file after file until his eyes were burning from how tired he was. Yoongi was used to being up all night, while his rhythm had shifted but Taehyung was still working all day and now the nights had been busy with him helping his boss and he was losing sleep. A lot of it. And the past couple of days had been exhausting. So, when he gave Yoongi another folder, Taehyung leaned his head on Yoongi’s legs and sighed deeply. His eyes kept falling shut, while he was reading the same sentence over and over again until he couldn’t fight it anymore. 

Yoongi stiffened up when he felt the gentle pressure of Taehyung’s head against his leg. “Taehyung?” He only got a sleepy murmur as response as the files slipped from the younger’s hand where it rested on his own thigh, sending them sliding over the floor. Yoongi frowned. “Are you… are you asleep?” There was no answer and he blinked, a little helplessly. Should he wake Taehyung up? He was pretty sure that he was crossing a hundred boundaries right now and the businessman in him was feeling that Taehyung would sue him for god-knows-what if he touched him while he was asleep. The other part in him felt sorry for Taehyung - and also a little guilty. He had pushed the thought of Taehyung working overtime somewhere in the back of his head where it didn’t spoil his happiness about having him here every night. However, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Taehyung was exhausted. He had noticed before and choose to ignore it but the younger falling asleep right by his side was a clear sign that he had gone too far. With a sigh he figured that he could face being sued and put aside what he was holding so that he could support Taehyung’s head while he got up. “Let’s get you into bed then, shall we?”

Taehyung could feel himself getting pulled a little, mumbling sleepily. He barely registered the voice, but he knew it was Yoongi who was talking to him as he helped him up and steadied him as they stumbled towards the stairs. In Yoongi’s apartment, Taehyung could barely open his eyes, waddling tiredly wherever his boss was taking him and when he finally felt something soft beneath him, he immediately let himself fall.  

He only got rid of Taehyung’s shoes as they didn’t pair well with Egyptian cotton sheets and then put a blanket over him before he left him there. Then he went back to send an email to his human resource management to tell them to find a replacement for Taehyung for tomorrow morning. He didn’t want to interrupt his sleep to wake him up during the day. And sleeping for a few more hours would do him good. He only hoped Taehyung didn’t have any other important appointments for tomorrow or would wake up in time if he had. To be sure that the other wouldn’t be angry at him he wrote a quick note and put it carefully besides the bed on the nightstand before leaving to use the recamiere to sleep. It was comfortable sleeping there which he knew because he had fallen asleep on it more than once after working for too long.

...

It was a sweet routine, something that Taehyung didn’t want to miss anymore. When he came in late at night, Yoongi was already awaiting him with a cup of hot cocoa and coffee in his own mug. They were talking, working and sorting stuff out that Yoongi needed help with. Although he had half a heart attack waking up the next morning in Yoongi’s bed (he slept like a baby though), the note had calmed his heart rapidly (he was almost glad he didn’t need to hurry to sort more mail this morning and he had only needed to figure out how to sneak out of the building without being seen). In the end he had made it somehow, only to stand in front of Yoongi’s office again.

And the day after that.

And the following days, too.

It was just nice spending the time with Yoongi, at least that’s what he told Jimin, when in reality the more time he was spending with his boss, the more he felt intrigued by him. He leaned his chin onto his hand as he watched Yoongi heating up water for some tea, as he bobbed his head to the music. “Do you dance, Mr. Min?” Taehyung asked and walked around the kitchen counter with a big grin plastered on his face. 

Yoongi eyed him warily ���Definitely not. Why, did something give you a different impression?” He made a step back , just to be on the safe side when Taehyung got up with a big grin on his face. “Kim Taehyung! I’m warning you!”

Taehyung didn’t care when he wrapped his arm around his boss and pulled him closer to him, swaying with the beat of the music, making Yoongi spin (with a little more work on his side). “Relax, Mr. Min. You’re always so tight up!” He placed Yoongi’s arms differently and where they actually should be in a dance position, but the other let them slip down again. But Taehyung could work with stubbornness as well, so he took both hands in his and pulled Yoongi in and out again turning him around and back again, having the time of his life.

“Heavens, you don’t know how to give up, do you?” He pulled a face while letting Tae drag him around, enjoying it too much to actually put up a fight and put a hold to it. He wasn’t lying he normally didn’t dance but being silly like this wasn’t something he had done in years and it somehow felt…freeing. Even though he would have never said that out loud. He still had a reputation to uphold.

It felt like forever as they danced and Yoongi finally seemed to relax a little more when his phone interrupted the music harshly. Usually he turned off the volume, but he was waiting for an important response for days now.

“Don’t run off, we will finish this dance!” He was still laughing, when he took the phone off the counter and looked at the message he got. It was an email, one that made his heart race a little faster at first and then it dropped again. Just like his smile.

We’re sorry to inform you – how many times had he read this sentence by now.

His art was everything to him, but it seemed like no one else saw it. Was he that stupid? Was he really not talented? He had thought about this a million times and it consumed him every time. Shutting the screen again, Taehyung put the phone aside as he felt the tears burning in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not right now. Not like this.

“I didn’t get it.” Taking a deep breath, Taehyung shrugged his shoulders trying to not care, “Just something about how it didn’t fit in.”

It was clear that he spoke about the spot in the museum from the sadness that had filled his eyes and changed his entire face. In that moment Yoongi wondered how someone could feel so deep and still keep his smile because surely Tae must have been disappointed before and yet he looked like his whole world had just been crushed before his eyes. Immediately he reached out to take Taehyung's hands in his.

“They’re totally right! You don’t fit into some exhibition were pictures of similar artists are crammed into a tiny space so that museum visitors who are here for other exhibitions can take a short glance at them. You need something else, with more space, more freedom, something that’s entirely your own thing. Don’t let this get you down because they definitely aren’t worth your tears. You can be sad - but only for them because they missed out on having you in their halls, not because you feel like you’ll never get the chance to find the right audience. Because you will. Sooner or later you will find them. I promise you that.”

The younger averted his gaze onto his feet and although Yoongi’s words warmed his heart, he knew better. He’d been trying for so long now.

“I know you mean well,” His voice sounded defeated, “But maybe I’m just not made for this. Maybe my art isn’t good in the end and I should just stick to what I’m good. Sorting mail and taking pictures of families and their kids in my shop.” Taehyung let himself plop down onto the couch, making some more room for Yoongi. “Some people aren’t made for this, I guess.” His lips pursed into a slight pout as it hurt saying those words out loud. “I had imagined it so beautifully though…maybe I should stop daydreaming, then it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“If you feel like this then I’m sure you must be right.” Yoongi gave him a sharp look. “Because if that’s what you secretly think every time you apply for an exhibition or a nice spot at a gallery people will see it, that you’re insecure, that you’re not a hundred percent sure of what you’re capable of. And so, they’ll give your place to someone who is because even though they have less talent they know how to sell themselves better. It’s on you, really. If you think you can be happy with what you have; stick to it. If not then fight for what you want.”

Taehyung had pulled his legs in and draped them over Yoongi’s as he chuckled softly. “Says the one who is hiding in his office.” He smiled at him when he reached out for his hand to intertwine their hands. “I’m insecure when it comes to my art. I’m always scared if others will like what I do or if they will say something mean. And I am trying, Mr. Min. I’m trying so much but it’s getting frustrating.” With the other hand, Taehyung began to trace a few lines on Yoongi’s hand mindlessly, “If you’re allowed to be insecure about what others think, then I am too.” He blinked when the tears threatened to fall again. “I just wished I could have shown you. You could have played the piano at the opening or…you could have met Jimin. My friend, I told you about. And…and we could have gotten out for some coffee. The good kind, the one from downtown. And I’d put lots of sugar in mine, while you drink yours black.” He shook his head and wiped over his cheeks. “It would’ve been perfect, don’t you think? Rich people like you buying crappy art from me. That’s where our worlds collide, right?” Taehyung sighed deeply, “I bet they didn’t even look at my stuff, just discarded me when they didn’t recognize my name. That’s how it works after all.” He blinked up at Yoongi with tear-filled eyes, “I’m sorry I can’t take you out on an art date, then. We’ve got to reschedule.”

He had wanted to offer to buy Tae some exhibition catalogue where they could look at it together but something else made his brain short circuit before he could speak up. “D…date?” Yoongi stumbled over his own words as he looked at Taehyung with wide eyes, all thoughts about not showing his emotions too obviously thrown out the window. Surely he must have heard wrong. Or Taehyung was joking. Or the other meant it differently like… a date between friends.

Taehyung rubbed his neck nervously, before he shyly answered. “I meant it when I said I want to show you my stuff…just you and me. I…” He gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat that made it so much harder to speak. “I really like your company, Mr. Min. I thought…you’d maybe…like that, too?” He frowned at his own wording, wanting to fling himself out of the window in shame.  

“You thought... I’d like to date you?” It did totally come out wrong  but the thought that someone would want to date him and not just someone but handsome, young, lively Tae who could do so much better than some bitter, disfigured hide-away that couldn’t go out baffled him completely. If it were anyone else he would have thought they wanted his money or a story, but Tae had proved that his art was what was most important to him and that he didn’t want to buy himself recognition. So, he had no idea why Taehyung would do that to himself. “You can’t be serious!”

Taehyung didn’t know what had come over him and maybe he had been stuck in his head, thinking that his little nightly adventures could be a little more than just that. Yoongi was still his boss and although he was kind enough to let him in and spend time with him almost every day now, it didn’t mean he felt the same way for him. He realized that now.

“I am so sorry, I…I didn’t think, I guess. You’re still my boss of course and…this…it’s work-related and…,” Taehyung got up from the couch, hands shaking as he realized that somewhere between spending all those sleepless nights with Yoongi, feeling up his skin, getting to know the man behind the mask that he had fallen in love with him. While Yoongi was just happy for the care he was giving him, the company and the help that he needed in his office. He bowed his head in apology, trying to ignore his rapid beating heart that was telling him to stay, but he knew he was just making a mess. “I think I should go. I have overstepped your boundaries, Mr. Min. I’m sorry.” Taehyung grabbed his bag from the piano chair before he rushed towards the door. 

“Wait, Taehyung!” Yoongi was on his feet in a heartbeat, running after Taehyung who was surprisingly quick for someone who’s view must still be blurry from his unshed tears. “Don’t run off now, please, just wait!” He was out of breath when he arrived at the end of the stairs but at least Taehyung was still there, even though he didn’t look at him and had his bag securely placed in front of him, his shoulders hunched forward as if he was trying to hide and make himself as small as possible. Taehyung meant what he had said. His reaction and the flash of hurt that had passed over his face had made it crystal clear. So Yoongi spoke softly - as best as he could while still being out of breath. “You can’t date me while you still call me Mr. Min. So.. call me Yoongi, please.”

Taehyung held onto his bag tightly, not really sure what to say when he simply nodded. “Okay…Yoongi,” His voice sounded rough and unsure as he stood by the door. “I’m really sorry, Mr. M-... Yoongi,” Taehyung had his eyes averted onto the ground, not able to stand his gaze. “I didn’t want to mess this night up. We can go back to how it was tomorrow. I promise, I won’t say anything anymore.”

Yoongi shook his head, smiling. “Taehyung, I don’t think you got what I meant to say. I’d like that. The art date you promised me. I’m up for it. I didn’t mean to react so taken aback when you suggested it, it was just that... I couldn’t really see why you would... you know...” He trailed off, gesturing to his marks instead. “So, it took me a moment to realize you were serious but... yeah. Please date me if you still want to.”

The younger’s eyes flickered up when Yoongi spoke just as nervously as he had only minutes before he ran off. “So, if I do get a spot…you’d let me take you out?” He asked nervously, “A-and you’re not saying this b-because you know I won’t never get a spot?”

Yoongi couldn’t help it, he broke into laughter. “Oh Tae, that’s totally not it. Because you will get your exhibition, I can promise you that.” The company had done enough charity events that had to do with art for him to know how to organize an exhibition though Tae didn’t have to know that. Not yet. “Also, I’ve got two conditions concerning our date: First I’ll let you take me out but I won’t let you pay. That’s my part. And second I want the right to buy one of your exhibition pieces. You can leave it hanging there for everyone to see but with a little sign that tells them that they have to be fast to get one of your other pieces because that one is mine already. Deal?”

He smiled softly at the thought of being able to take Yoongi out one day, maybe he would open up enough to him to be brave enough to actually visit him on opening day. He’d love that a lot. His smile grew even bigger as he walked up to Yoongi, placing his bag down.

“I take the deal.” He cocked his head aside, pushing a string of hair out of Yoongi’s face as he leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. Barely there, just a fleeting touch of his lips against his skin. “And why wouldn’t I want to, you’re beautiful to me.” He whispered, leaning in a little more, “Good Night, Yoongi.”

It was a good thing he let their night end like this because Yoongi was too overwhelmed to know what to do with himself. He was unbelievably happy, like something had let in the light that illuminated his whole world again. But at the same time, he was horribly, horribly scared. Because he knew how dating went. If they would not get along and their interest wouldn’t turn into a relationship then it would be different between them. And if they did get along well... then it would be just as scary. Because dating meant that they would see each other more often, maybe kiss, maybe touch… and he didn’t want Taehyung to see all of his skin. The other had told him that he thought his hands were beautiful and he could look at his eyes without flinching but being faced with the ugliness of his whole body could only be too much, even for someone as kind hearted as Taehyung.

A/N: Ohhhhh, what do you think? Will a date happen? Or will Taehyung get refused again and again and again or.............

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A Curse Meant to Be Broken || Geralt x Reader || Part 4

Summary: One monster is taken care of, but the fight did not come without cost. With you injured, Geralt sets out to take care of the remaining monster. This just might be the beginning of a whole new life for you; a life where you never have to see this town ever again.  

Word Count:  2,045

Warning(s): Violence, blood.

A/N: Sorry it’s taken so long for an update on this story—Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all, as always, for reading.  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

If you enjoy my work and want to read more, you can check out my masterlist, and if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story or any others, comment or send me a message and I’ll add you!  

***

Geralt rushes back to the baron’s manor, clutching you against his chest as if holding you tighter will slow down the inevitable. He never should have allowed you to stay – he should have been more careful. It had been reckless of him to allow you so close during those crucial moments. He’d put you at risk, and you might very well die because of it.  

He doesn’t bother to explain the situation upon barging through the door. No one in this damned manor cares enough about you to be even remotely deserving. Instead, he barks orders. “Clean bed, now!” He knows it would be nearly impossible to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t even try. Why waste the energy?  

Thankfully, the staff he encounters upon entering the manor – two guards who look half bored to dead – respond nearly immediately to his frenzied yelling. One of them motioned for him to follow, which he does, cradling your limp body in his arms gently, so as not to jostle you around too much. The gashes on your back are not only deep, but filled with poison thanks to the Noonwraith’s taloned fingers, and he wants to do what he can to avoid making the pain even worse.  

For you, the world seems to exist only in a murky grayness where you can neither sleep nor wake. You are reminded only of the intense fever dreams you’d had when you were a child and contracted Yellow Fever. You shiver against the nonexistent cold as heat radiates off your body, soaking the fresh sheets of an unfamiliar bed with sweat. Geralt can only watch with a grim determination as he goes about cleaning and dressing your wounds.  

Images flash, causing you to toss and turn in your fitful false sleep. You see the wraith, with its spectral glow and horribly disfigured face, hands like talons. You see Geralt pressed back against the wall, the wraith descending upon him. It is like you’re watching the scene, rather than taking part in it. You watch as you pull the knife. You see the look of doubt and dread flicker on your face for a fraction of a second before you watch as you drag the sharp edge of the knife against your open palm. Your blood sizzles as it hits the stone below, which you can hear even over your own yelling.  

“Mama!”  

You see the wraith charge at the girl, who looks utterly terrified and utterly determined at the same time. You almost forget that the girl you are watching is you as the wraith turns and descends upon her, striking out with razor-sharp claws and tearing away cloth and flesh in one easy stroke. You watch in horror as the girl – me, you vaguely remember – flattens herself on the ground, as if hoping she might sink right into it.  

Thankfully, you are only partially present as pain sears through you as the Witcher carefully cleans each wound. Though his hands are gentle, the elixir he uses to counteract the venom is not. He grimaces as he holds you down gently as he pours the elixir into your open wounds, pushing against you as you fight to throw him off, no doubt trying to escape the hissing burn of the anti-venom. He knows how the elixir feels as it burns away the venom by indiscriminately tearing through your cells.  

He gave you as much as he could of a human-safe herbal mixture for the pain, but from the way you are trying to thrash about, it seems it has only lessened the pain from one level of excruciating to another, slightly lower one. He hurries to finish cleaning the wounds so that he can apply a numbing salve and wrap cloth bandages tightly around your body, brow furrowing as you finally stop trying to lurch away from him – though he is unsure if it is because the numbing salve is working or because you have simply given up fighting.  

He makes no attempt to turn you onto your back, not wanting to further irritate the wounds. Though you are tightly wrapped in bandages, he worries that in moving you, he would risk tearing at the deep scratches. So, he leaves you on your stomach as he goes to brew an elixir. He knows he cannot give you any of the Witcher potions that he has tucked in his pack for fear it will kill you, so he has no choice but to start from scratch. For the first time in a long while, he is quite thankful for Vesimir’s insistence that you learn human healing potions as well, despite their general uselessness to a Witcher.  

Stephic does not interrupt once; not even to check and see how his oh so valued servant is fairing. The Witcher doesn’t find this in the least bit surprising. All noblemen, be them Nilfgaardian, Temerian, Redianian... They’re all the same. They care only for themselves and their profit, no matter what they claim. If you survive this, you will be left with a horrible scar from your shoulder down your back. He supposes that, in Stephic’s eyes, that must diminish the value of his property very much. It is despicable, but it is nothing he has not seen time and time again.  

At least, he thinks, that should make this all easier.

Having rushed back to care for you, he has not had the chance to speak to Stephic regarding his reward. As per usual with Barons, he had offered a tidy sum for the contract. And, truth be told, Geralt knows that he could really use the coin. Autumn will give way to winter sooner than later, and work is hard to come by in the winter. But still...  

* * *

“You want the girl?” Somehow, Stephic finds the request so ridiculous that he is laughing, more like cackling, really. “I offer you four hundred Crowns to off the wraith and you want to trade it for a maimed wench?”  

Geralt has to clench and unclench his fists at his sides to keep from lashing out. Perhaps it is the nonchalant way in which the Baron shakes his head in disbelief that angers him; the way that he cannot possibly imagine that your life is of any value – but he would very much like to punch the pompous asshole in the face.  

He holds back for your sake, responding with a curt nod, “That is exactly what I’d like to do.”  

Stephic stands for a moment, hand on his chin in thought as he considers the Witcher before him. “Intersting...” he muses.  

The Witcher looks at him, eyebrows raised. He can’t help himself.

“Hardly interesting, Your Excellency.” The words drip from his lips like poisoned honey. He will have to play along if he is going to get anywhere with this man. “You know girls like her can fetch a good deal more than four hundred Crowns, if you know how to go about conducting business.” The words disgust him as he says them, but he keeps his expression neutral as ever.  

“Not when they’ve gone and gotten themselves shredded apart by a wraith,” Stephac points out. Geralt left you, asleep at last thanks to the specially brewed potion, but Stephic had finally knocked on the door and set his eyes upon the horribly disfigured back of his most special servant-girl. He’d even dared to wrinkle his nose at the sight; another moment Geralt would have liked to kick his teeth in.  

“So you want a raise, is that it?” asks Stephic, shaking his head.  

Geralt, though, is a step ahead, as always. “Perhaps I do,” he said pointedly, with conviction. “After all that shit, I certainly deserve one.” He crosses his muscled arms over his chest, eyes flickering with satisfaction as the nobleman backs away slightly.  

“Well, perhaps this could be a good deal for me,” the Baron says. Of course, in keeping with the tradition of his sort, he covers his apprehension with a false smile and the false air of confidence pretending that the whole thing was all his idea. “It’d get that unruly little brat out of my hands.”  

Geralt smirks, putting up a façade of his own. “See, I knew we’d come to an understanding. I take the brat and you keep the coin.” Better to let the Baron think that he was a man with the same warped moral code as himself, than come in playing the part of a foolish White Knight. He continues speaking, even though the words taste sour on his lips, “You save yourself a lot of trouble, and I turn a profit from some... businessman in Novigrad.”  

Geralt can see quite plainly that Stephic will accept the offer, he casually traces the sign of Axii in front of him, watching Stephic’s eyes glass over as he speaks again, “It’s a great deal for both of us, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Stephic nods vacantly, “A profitable deal for both of us.”  

“Indeed,” the Witcher says, holding back a smirk. “And perhaps, even a hundred Crowns for my trouble?”  

Stephic nods emphatically, still under the influence of the sign, “Of course, Master Witcher.”  

Geralt watches as the man clumsily pulls a leather pouch from a pocket in his doublet. It is small, certainly not the entire reward, but Geralt takes it with a thankful smile and conspiratorial nod towards the slimy little bug-eyed noble. He could have easily asked for the whole four hundred crowns, but then the Baron might talk – say he was “hexed” and extorted by the greedy monster-slayer. He didn’t need any more of those rumors floating about.  

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Geralt’s lips twitch into a smirk as he takes the purse and steps past the Baron and out of the room.  

***

“Drink this, it’ll help with the pain,” Geralt says as he pulls a clear vial from somewhere in his pocket. You eye it suspiciously for a moment, not thrilled with the idea of swallowing the mystery liquid, but ultimately grab the vial and toss the bitter liquid to the back of your throat and swallow before you can gag. The unpleasant burning in your throat is a small price to pay for some relief to the deep ache in your healing back.  

You can hardly believe that it’s been nearly two weeks since you and Geralt had lifted the curse holding your mother to the place she’d been murdered and banished the wraith forever. Though, you suppose the fact that you’d only snapped from the seemingly endless fever dream a few days before is a huge contributing factor.  

You sit behind Geralt on his mare, Roach. You must admit, you are quite fond of the horse, even if getting on and off the horse was nearly impossible thanks to the pain in your back. Thankfully, the potion works quickly. It settles over you like a warm blanket, numbing the pain in your back and pulling you toward sleep. This is how you’ve spent most of the journey – asleep against Geralt’s back. You wish you could be awake more often to take in the beautiful sights instead of watching them blur by in a half-awake stupor.  

“Hm?” Geralt mumbles, turning his head back slightly to look at you. You must have let one too many frustrated sigh escape your lips.  

“I just....” you begin sleepily, “I want to see everything.”  

Geralt grins, yellow eyes catching yours for a moment and making your breath stop.  

“You will,” he promises. He’s already turned back to the path in front of you, but those golden eyes still have you stuck, eyes fixed on the outline of his face as you breathe in the comforting scent of his long hair.  

“I will show you this whole Continent, if that is what you wish, Y/N.”  

You smile lightly as you let your eyes slip shut, arms wrapped tightly around him, letting the slow and steady sound of his heart beating lull you to sleep. But you swear that his heart is beating ever so slightly more quickly than it usually does. 

If you’d been able to see his face, you would have seen a soft smile on his usually stone hard face.  

***

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