#and I think understands quiet downward spirals

[nerdierholler]

So I fired up book 1 Ethan today to maybe work on a thing. I’m not reading really just making a copy of text for reference. I have a document with all of his canon choices so I’m just plugging those in.

Ethan detail I decided on in the process: his apartment style. None of the apartment descriptions really fit for him. He’s vintage based on the available options but really, he’s a midcentury modern man. At least for living spaces. He wants more interesting shapes and colors than minimalist but it’s still really tidy and with clean lines. He’s picky about appearances but also on a budget. Most of what he has is modern reproduction but he’s trying to get authentic, or as close to authentic, as he can now that he’s making a bit more.

In the grand scheme, it’s actually very generic and not original but he feels like it’s a step up from all ikea or something. He is also kind of generic looking with a well put together style that is also very vanilla. He looks great in it but you also probably wouldn’t notice any stand out pieces or the outfit he wore two weeks ago. He’s a bland magazine looking man in a hipster magazine looking apartment. He thinks he’s doing great though and he does genuinely like all of it. It isn’t just for show.

[beenbaanbuun]

panic w/ jeong yunho

(this isn’t proof read because i wrote it at like 5am…)

——————————————————————————

yunho’s hand lands on your knee, warm and study and exactly what you need to ground yourself. your eyes focus on it; your body does too. you need this, you tell yourself, you need it to settle your mind and you need it to settle your heart. neither of them are going at the pace at which they should.

“you okay?” he murmurs under his breath, not looking at you or seemingly paying that much attention to you at all. you’re grateful in a way; attention is the last thing you need right now, especially from yunho. one worried look from him might be the breaking point, setting you off on a downward spiral that would certainly take a lot more than a hand rested gently upon a knee to fix.

you can’t help but shuffle closer to him, the hot metal of the park bench burning your thighs through your jeans. that too helps ground you, but not in the gentle way yunho does. it brings you back down the earth rather too sharply, making you suck in a wince. suddenly you’re no longer unpleasantly floating up in space, but instead you’re here, present and absolutely, indisputably not good.

“no,” you admit as your heart rate picks up once more, the panic of everything setting in. the burning in your thighs came to a stop almost immediately, but that doesn’t mean that everything still isn’t bad. it is. it’s so very bad. “yunho, i—” you cut yourself off with a heaving sob, one that you hadn’t anticipated for even a second. you hadn’t been crying mere seconds ago, but right now you can feel the fiery tears that run down your face like magma, carving a path against your skin.

it’s bad. everything is bad.

well, maybe not everything. yunho’s hand is still on your thigh, unmoving as your emotions take over your body like waves in an angry tempest. it’s like the eye of the storm, providing you with a quick break from the overwhelming barrage of emotions that threaten to make your flood defences fall. all you have to do is focus on that sturdy warmth and that’s it; everything is quiet for just a second.

“what do you need?” he said, eyes still focused on the duck pond before you. “tell me, honey; i want to help you.”

and you want him to help! you want it so bad that it hurts your chest to even think about that hand slipping away from your thigh. the only issue is you don’t know how he can help. you barely have a moment to piece together a single coherent thought, let alone figure something like that out. what do you need, you ask yourself. other than yunho’s hand, what exactly is it that you need…

you think about the hand and what it gives you—warmth, stability, comfort—and you think about the way it makes you feel. you want that feeling in swathes, that safety and peace that fills your mind for a fleeting second every time you bring your attention back to that hand. you want it everywhere. the warmth that feels like summer rays breaking through the clouds of the storm, the stability of the harbour walls tethering the boats to safety, the comfort of knowing that the end of the storm is near.

it twigs in your brain.

“you,” is the only word you can muster before a new wave of tears washes over you. they fall like raindrops onto your hands curled up on your lap, the slow dripping only adding the the already long list of everything that is pushing you closer and closer to the edge of that spiral. you can only hope yunho can somehow understand your cryptics as you let out sob after sob.

“me?” he whispers to himself, questioning your words, “you want me? baby, you have me, what do you—” he looks down at his hand, the single anchor tethering you to port. without it you’d be adrift, and he knows you well enough to know that. oh, he can’t help but smile, you want him. “you want to come into my lap? because it’s open for you, baby. it’s always open for you,” and perhaps you already know that, but perhaps in your frenzied state you just need the reminder.

you’re barely able to nod before yunho’s other hand is on you, finding your waist almost immediately. the hand from your knee slides up your thigh so as not to take away that contact you’d grown so used to. you can’t help but be grateful at how thoughtful he is, kind to the very centre of his soul. that hand also comes to a stop at your waist.

you don’t even blink an eye as he tugs at your shaking body, manoeuvring you until you’re on his lap, thighs against thighs, spine pressing against chest. the hands snake themselves around your waist, coming to a halt once his arms are firmly locking you in place. he gives you a squeeze, reassuring you that he’s there. you give him a soft hum in response, not quite words, but still not silence. he takes it graciously, tucking his head into your shoulder and placing a kiss upon your sweaty skin.

“you have me, baby,” he murmurs as you finally set your sights on the end of this. your heart settles itself on that single piece of blue sky in the distance, and you let yourself relax into yunho’s body knowing that this will all be a thing of the past soon enough.

[magical-reid]

Ricochet

Pairing: Bucky x Fem! Reader

Slow Burn/ Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky and the reader's relationship starts off rocky, marked by tension, mistrust, and bickering, especially due to their shared past with Hydra. However, over time, their interactions soften as they begin to understand each other better, with moments of respect, mutual concern, and subtle attraction emerging amid their fiery exchanges.

Reader’s POV

The elevator ride to the top of Avengers Tower was too quiet, too long, and too nerve-wracking. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—I was supposed to be excited, grateful even. Joining the Avengers was a big deal. The deal.

But all I could think about was the man waiting on the other side of the shiny metal doors.

Bucky Barnes.

The Winter Soldier, they used to call him. The Ghost. The most terrifying assassin in history. Now, they called him an Avenger. A hero. A man trying to rebuild his life, just like me.

Except, he hated me.

The elevator dinged, interrupting my downward spiral. I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag, straightened my back, and stepped into the common area.

It was bustling. Clint Barton was leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee. Wanda Maximoff was cross-legged on the couch, nose deep in a book. Sam Wilson was half-shouting something about a sparring session.

And then, there he was.

Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, piercing blue eyes narrowed in a look that could melt steel. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s POV

I saw her before she even got off the elevator.

The new recruit—great. Another kid with a chip on their shoulder and something to prove. Fury had said she was talented, promising even. But Fury said a lot of things, and I wasn’t buying it.

Especially since she was Hydra-trained.

I crossed my arms tighter, keeping my mouth shut as the others greeted her. My stomach churned as I watched her, trying to read her body language. She stood tall, confident, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Good. She should be nervous.

“You’re the new girl, huh?” Sam said, clapping her on the shoulder like they were old friends.

“Yeah,” she replied, glancing my way for half a second before looking back at Sam. “I guess I am.”

Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight clench of her jaw. She knew who I was, knew what I thought about her being here.

“Welcome to the Tower,” Sam said, oblivious. “What’s your specialty?”

“Close combat,” she said. “And infiltration.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” I said, pushing off the wall. “You’ve got ‘infiltration’ written all over you.”

Reader’s POV

It took every ounce of restraint not to throw my duffel bag at his head. He was testing me, pushing my buttons, and it was working.

“Okay,” Sam said, stepping between us with a strained smile. “Let’s just… ease into this. No need to kill each other yet.”

Yet.

The tension lingered, thick as smoke, as Bucky gave me one last icy look before brushing past me and disappearing down the hall.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Bucky’s POV

The new girl—Y/N. Fury had mentioned her name in passing—was trouble. I didn’t need Steve’s optimism or Sam’s over-the-top friendliness clouding my judgment. People didn’t just walk away from Hydra clean.

I knew that better than anyone.

She was going to slip up. Eventually, she’d prove me right.

The problem was, part of me almost didn’t want her to.

Two Weeks Later

Reader’s POV

I’d managed to avoid Bucky for the first couple of weeks, which was harder than it should have been considering we lived under the same roof. But there was no avoiding him in the field.

Our first mission as a team had gone sideways fast. Hydra—not that it was surprising—had set up a trap, and now half the team was scattered in the woods outside the compound while Bucky and I were stuck together.

“Stay close,” Bucky barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

“I know how to stay alive,” I snapped back, dodging behind a tree as bullets tore through the air.

“Yeah, but for how long?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I slid my knife from its sheath, took a deep breath, and bolted toward the nearest Hydra soldier. The element of surprise worked in my favor. I took him down quickly and efficiently, just like I’d been trained.

But the second soldier saw me coming.

“Damn it,” I muttered, raising my blade, but before I could strike, a blur of black and silver tackled the guy to the ground.

Bucky.

He stood over the unconscious soldier, shaking his head. “You’re reckless.”

“I’m fine,” I bit out, wiping blood from my cheek.

“For now.”

“Why do you even care?”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him as more soldiers approached.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

I wanted to argue, but something in his tone made me listen.

Bucky’s POV

She was going to get herself killed.

I didn’t trust her—not even a little—but I didn’t want her blood on my hands. She was brash, stubborn, and reckless, but she wasn’t incompetent. That’s what made it worse.

Because if she wasn’t Hydra anymore, if she really had turned her back on them, she didn’t deserve to die like this.

“Bucky, behind you!”

Her voice snapped me back to reality just in time to block the incoming blow. The Hydra soldier hit hard, but I hit harder. I turned and delivered a swift kick to his chest, sending him flying into a tree.

When I turned back to Y/N, she was watching me, something unreadable in her eyes.

“You okay?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

She nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Good,” I muttered. “Let’s keep moving.”

Later

Reader’s POV

By the time we made it back to the jet, I was running on adrenaline and pure spite. Bucky hadn’t let up the entire mission, barking orders and criticizing every move I made.

But he’d also saved my life. Twice.

“You’re lucky I was there,” he said as the jet doors closed behind us.

I rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Clint, sitting in the pilot’s seat, let out a low whistle. “This is gonna be fun.”

Bucky ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “You want to survive out there? Start listening to people who know what they’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I snapped.

“Do you?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“Better than hiding behind everyone else.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might actually yell. Instead, he turned and stormed toward the back of the jet.

Bucky’s POV

She was infuriating.

She didn’t know when to quit, when to listen, when to shut up. But damn it, she had fire.

I hated that I noticed it. Hated the way my heart skipped when she called me out, the way my mind replayed her voice when I was alone.

I hated the way she looked at me, like she was daring me to prove her wrong.

But most of all, I hated the thought of something happening to her.

Weeks Turn to Months

The missions kept coming, and so did the tension. Every time we worked together, sparks flew—anger, frustration, heat. But somewhere along the line, the edges softened.

It started small: a hesitant “good job” after a successful mission, a shared smirk when Tony made a particularly bad joke.

And then, one night, everything changed.

Reader’s POV

The training room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of fists hitting the punching bag. I’d come down to clear my head, but I wasn’t alone.

Bucky was there, shirtless and focused, his metal arm gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

I froze in the doorway, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

“Gonna stand there all night?” he asked without looking up.

I scowled, stepping into the room. “Didn’t know you owned the place.”

He smirked, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You here to train or to sulk?”

“Both,” I admitted, grabbing a pair of gloves.

We worked in silence for a while, the air thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t until I landed a particularly satisfying hit on the bag that he finally spoke

Part 2

[mintmatcha]

cw: implied abuse (very slight)

You remember the first time you saw him, passing through the courtyard outside of your family room.

You could only see him from behind, the outline of scrawny shoulders and knobby knees silhouetted by morning light as he walked, but you could tell he was beautiful. It was in the way he carried himself, tall and proud, with a juant in his step like no worries weighed him down. The white of his hair was so surprisingly pure that you immediately thought of a star, a pure dot in the middle of inky chaos, so impossibly far and yet visible.

Three steps ahead of the boy were two older men that were once friends of your father, strong, burly folk that wouldn't explain their jobs to you when you asked.

"Do you see him?" Your mother pointed out the window with her wooden spoon, trailing the path of the boy like she's tracing a constellation.

"Who is it?" You were shushed as soon as you asked. She doesn't want them to hear, you realized. They mustn't be disturbed.

"That," Your mother whispered hurriedly, as if she's rushed in telling you, and you cannot tell if this news is good or bad, "is the most important man you will ever meet."

This tickled you. The guards dwarfed his child frame. He was a child, just like you.

"Well," you said, much too loudly, "He's not much of a man."

Your mother cracked her spoon against your knuckles. You didn't dare whimper at the pain, despite how it blossomed. She turned back to the stove, lips pursed.

"You'll understand under you're older. Gojo Satoru is special."

The second time you ever saw Gojo Satoru, it was three years later in the same patio. This time, he was alone.

He sat on the stairs to the main building, arms tucked over his knees and head buried in his lap. He was much taller now and his frame was more filled out, but he was still awkward and young, just like every other boy your age.

You knew you shouldn't bother him. You knew your mother would be cross if she found you bothering the boy, and yet you slunk out of bed anyway, padding across wood floors on bare feet. You knew the squeaky spots by heart, avoiding them on your tip toes-

and yet, somehow, he was turned to face you, as if he had seen you coming.

Just as you expected, he was beautiful. His round cheeks and wide eyes were almost picturesk, like someone up in heaven had been tasked to create the perfect boy and had crafted Gojo Saoru as the final product.

Even in the moonlight, his eyes were a shocking blue, cerulean like oceans you'd never seen, deep like gems you'd never hold. If you were clever, you'd come up with some poetic way to describe them, but mother always told you that you were simple, so the only thing you could think that was his eyes were simply blue.

Then, he opened his mouth.

"Why are you here?"

You sneered at his attitude. "I live here."

"No one lives here, it's just a meeting place." Gojo Satoru explained, like you were stupid.

"Well, I live here, so you're wrong." You kept your voice quiet. Your mother's window was just at the other edge of the courtyard, cracked so the night air could cool the room.

"I'm never wrong." The boy says so simply.

"We live here all year round and take care of the property."

He regarded you carefully, glancing up and down with a raised brow. "So you're just a maid."

That was the first time someone made you feel shame about the sentiment. Just a maid, said with a curled lip and downward spiraling tone, so sharp and degrading your cheeks immediately flushed with heat. Just a maid, as if nothing else about you mattered.

You twisted your night dress in your palms. Your voice became weak in your throat. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Well, you, Gojo Satoru, are just-" you struggled to come up with the words, tumbling through your vocabulary until you settled on a word you only learned weeks earlier- "a cunt."

The boy's jaw went slack with awe. You weren't even sure what cunt means, but when it first left your lips mother scrubbed your tongue with soap until the sink was foamy and pink.

Just as you had begun to regret it, an apology on your lips, he bounced up to his feet with wide, wide eyes. Instead of the anger you expected, you were greeted with a smile.

"You're the coolest girl I've ever met," he says, "Do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

"Do we have to kiss and stuff?" You didn't want to, but you thought about how his lips would feel against yours. Not very good, probably. Like paper.

It made your little chest ache anyway. Living in The House meant your experience with other children was more limited than you could realize as a child yourself. Gojo Satoru, the special boy you were told about, was more miraculous than the adults could ever know, simply because he was a boy you could touch.

"No, I don't think so," Gojo shrugged. You were both relieved and disappointed. At thirteen you were both enthralled by beautiful boys and terrified by them. "Probably just hold hands and hug."

"Okay then." You tried to shrug just as casually.

"Cool." Gojo pointed between you, back and forth, "Boyfriend Girlfriend."

"Boyfriend Girlfriend," you agreed. When you both fall silent, it was no longer natural. You were both strangers, yet more. You wondered if normal middle schoolers felt like this, or if this was just something that happened with Gojo Satoru, the special boy.

"But we can still kiss if you want to." Gojo held a hand out. You swore it was wet with sweat, even in the crisp night air. Gross, yet intriguing.

"I don't." You took his hand in yours. It was smaller than you expected, lithe and knobby in the fingers. You almost laughed when you remembered your mom describe him as a man.

"You probably have a bad tongue."

"Why would my tongue matter?" Gojo gagged. His hand was limp in yours. "Kissing is lips."

"Haven't you watched TV? Adults use tongue too."

He gapes again. "No way."

"Yes way."

For someone so special, talking to him certainly felt like talking everyone else. You started to wonder if your mother was wrong and he was just some dumb kid too.

"I'm never wrong."

"You're always wrong!" You let your voice get too loud. Somewhere, deeper in the hallways than you could see, a door slammed open and you both scrambled away wordlessly, scuttling off in your own directions. Somehow you managed to get back into your room without waking your mother, cuddling onto the mat next to hers with the palm of your hand still tingling with the memory of touch.

The next morning, Gojo Satoru and the chaos that followed him was gone.

The third time you saw him, it was three years later. It was only a glimpse through a doorframe as he passed. Gone were the features of a child, replaced by the sharpened jaw and wide shoulders of an almost man.

When he saw you, he laughed, no malice in his voice. By then, the shame of your station had set into your bones and you avoided his gaze like a Just-A-Maid should.

"Oi, how's my girlfriend?" His voice wasn't familiar anymore. Puberty had stolen its high pitch and replaced it with low, cracking baritone.

You didn't look up from the task at hand, polishing the wooden floors on your hands and knees, but you hoped he caught the edge of your smile and you hoped he found it alluring.

That night you dreamt of him, at least the him you imagined him to be. The rumors and stories of him had made it back to you, of course. For once your mother was right- he was special from birth, but he was also more. You knew he was regarded as rude and vulgar, a rulebreaker who hated the higher ups.

Hearing that had always made you smile. You always knew he was a cunt.

Most importantly, as you laid there, in a house that was only a sliver of his life, nothing more than forgettable minutes and meetings, vignettes of something much, much bigger, you wondered if Gojo Satoru, the most important man you'd ever met, thought about you too.

[luna-the-cretar]

I think I finally cracked the code on how I view Gricko’s relationship with Frost (and every member of the Krew, tbh). It’s almost, parental, I feel. Not in the sense of “I have adopted you in every way except in the eyes of the government” but more in the sense of “I will pick you up when you fall, and love you unconditionally all the while”

I mean, think about it. I’m assuming that, by the time the two met, Gricko already had Hootsie, so he was probably already in Dad Mode, mentally. And Frost was, assumedly, very lonely growing up, and had no actual parental figures past the age of 8 or so, when he was taken to the Psionic Order.

I imagine Frost probably saw Gricko tending to Hootsie one day (maybe she injured herself playing or something), and calming her down, and just started crying. Frost doesn’t realize he’s crying until Gricko points it out, and asks if he’s okay. Frost says he’s fine, and just notes that he hasn’t seen someone cared for that tenderly since he was a small child, after he scraped his knee when playing, and his mother cared for him the same way Gricko cares for Hootsie.

Gricko listens, and takes a mental note of this. The two travel, and Frost eventually learns that his parents had passed away sometime between his leaving and his return to his village. Frost is, understandably, distraught, starts crying again, and starts blabbering on about being left behind again. Being alone again. Always alone.

And Gricko doesn’t say anything. He just puts his hand on Frost’s shoulder, and provides moral support. Once Frost calms down, Gricko sits beside him, and rests his head on the tabaxi’s arm. “You’re not alone,” he says, “you gots me an’ Hootsie.”

Years go by, and sometimes Frost has a bad brain day, where he’s convinced that none of his friends care about him, and that they’ll eventually abandon him too, but Gricko is always there, by his side, listening. Frost is usually adverse to touch, but not with Gricko. I mean, Gricko still respects his friend’s boundaries and avoids touch as much as possible, but sometimes Frost just needs a gentle—yet grounding—hand in his.

After the Jabberwock, everyone is eerily quiet. And Frost is in a downward spiral of “I should’ve fought back. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve been there for them. They all died because of me. They’re all going to leave me. I’m going to be alone again.” before he feels a calloused yet gentle hand in his. It’s Gricko’s hand, Frost doesn’t even need to look at the goblin to know that, yet he does anyway. And Gricko just gives him a sad yet comforting smile, and Frost doesn’t have to read his mind to know that Gricko is mentally saying “you’re okay. We’re okay. You’re not going to be alone again. Not while I’m here.”

And Frost cries again, and nods at him. Nothing was said verbally. They never connected mentally. But that didn’t matter. The message was conveyed all the same.

[boy---interruptedd]

Alfred's Playhouse Commentary.

Alfred's playhouse is a vent show I recently discovered made by Emily Youcis. I will be addressing the actual content of the show before I move on to my opinion on Emily herself so please hold fire until the end because I KNOW what you're thinking.

TRIGGER WARNING - CSA, SH, CHILD ABUSE, NAZISM, GRAPHIC IMAGERY.

(Not all these themes are discussed in my post but you should be aware of these before watching the show)

Alfred's Playhouse features main character Alfred, who is a dog described in the introduction song as desperately attempting to escape his painful reality. I agree that it is genuinely disturbing, but I'd like to address its vague poignancy and how it deals with its themes.

In the first episode, we see what I think (as a survivor myself) to be the most accurate representation of how it feels to be sexually assaulted I've ever seen. The moment where everything is odd and numb and quiet followed by pure panic and rage.

The first episode also displays mental instability incredibly well. I've struggled with my mental health for the past six years and honestly the scenes where Alfred just rambles about essentially nothing at all, addressing an imagined audience, accurately represents what feels like the descent into madness many mentally ill people are convinced they go through. The thought that you've lost your mind is an extremely painful one and Alfred's Playhouse depicts that with surprising levels of accuracy.

Episode two, however, is essentially just this massive showcase of Alfred brutally harming himself. Though it portrays the very common desperate desire for attention many people experience when they struggle with self harm, myself included, I feel the level of gore is a little gratuitous, displaying Alfred almost bleeding to death from the wounds he's inflicted upon himself. That being said, it is a vent show so I see why Youcis made the decision. She never really made it for other people it was a way to make herself feel better. Then again, it was her decision to post it publicly.

Episode three essentially explains the whole show from a weirder perspective and honestly I don't want to go into it since I have so much to say and it's quarter past 11 at night and I have college tomorrow, but it is a good episode with the context of the show.

Overall, though it is important for assault victims and mentally ill people to have content in which they feel seen, I feel Youcis should have toned her work down a little before posting it. However, the Internet was a wild west in 2007.

Now onto Youcis herself, I feel it is incredibly unjustified to attribute her current political views to the show. She fell down the alt-right pipeline after publishing Alfred's Playhouse. This is almost definitely because of her downward spiral. It's not uncommon for groups like the alt-right to target vulnerable people like Emily. She has so clearly been crying for help for years and, though there's no excuse for her words or actions, I feel you should take her art for what it is rather than apply a made up meaning to it. The depictions of Nazis in the show - I think - are more a commentary on her childhood trauma and the themes of the show, Alfred feeling his life is dictated by someone/something else. While there's definitely better content in the genre and in general, the massive controversy surrounding Alfred's Playhouse is - in my opinion - unwarranted and really just watch it with an open mind and separate it from current Emily because she wasn't like she is now when she made it. Instead of hating on the present, understand the past and don't be overly shocked when mentally ill people do fucked up shit, especially when they've received the kind of backlash Emily Youcis faced.

Final disclaimer- I don't support her actions I hope she burns I just want people to understand things how they actually happened yk?

[pico-farad]

Vrains season 2 thoughts - part 2!

Go, Blood Shepherd, Ghost Girl, and the Ignis

All Vrains season analysis posts

⇀ Go

I'm devastated LMAO. In shambles. They massacred my boy (shh don't tell me the Go in my head isn't canon).

It's okay Go, Secret Identities AU will save you...

So, I don't think it was a bad idea for Go to "defect" to SOL. Go was already playing third fiddle very hard in the first season, and there was no way he could compare to Soulburner in terms of popularity as a main character, so turning him into an antagonist could be refreshing.

But it says something about Yusaku and Go's lack of relationship that when Go joins the bounty hunters Yusaku isn't even interested, much less betrayed. He doesn't ask, "Hey Go, why are you doing this?" he just glances at him and goes "Hmm, SOL Technologies sent bounty hunters."

You can tell too, during their duel later, that Yusaku just isn't close enough to Go to even attempt to break him out of the brain hacking. The best he can do is, "Didn't we fight against Hanoi together?" Uh I dunno Yusaku, did you? Isn't the reason why Go is in this downward spiral because you solo'd Hanoi by yourself?

The Soulburner vs. Go duel could have been a good place to explore that reasoning. Go's annoyance here is justified. It's completely understandable to feel like you're being talked down to, when fanboy Soulburner -- god bless him -- tells you that you're a hero who saved Vrains, even though you know that you couldn't do anything, you were useless. There's almost a narrative self-awareness there, that your duel was only used to make Playmaker look better. Playmaker is the real hero of Vrains, and you were just a stepping stone. Of course Soulburner's gushing would rub you the wrong way.

This relationship could have been sooo good if they built on it. Soulburner believes in Go, even when Go himself doesn't believe he's a hero. He understands that it isn't strength that makes you a hero, it isn't winning duels. It's having the courage to stand up to evil. That's why he admires Go and the others. Because that's what gave him the courage to stand up to his own demons. Imagine a rematch where Soulburner returns the favor, where he's the one to save Go from the darkness and convince him to be the hero that he believed in.

But no, instead, they kind of make him as unsympathetic as possible. Maybe that was the point, considering how they end up gutting his character, but this duel really, really makes him look bad. A grown adult playing victim olympics with children and losing. "You were traumatized as a kid? Oh yeah, well I grew up in an orphanage!" nooooo go you can't say that to an anime boy.

Go: For everyone to appreciate me, I must win! Playmaker is in my way. Lost Incident victim, he says? I know he suffered, but I also bet my life on dueling! I'm the one who'll be number one! I'm not Playmaker's stepping stone! Soulburner: ...I don't think you're Playmaker's stepping stone. But right now, you're just SOL Technologies' pet dog. Actually, a pitiful loser dog who complains to strangers. Go: How dare you say that-- Soulburner: The Go Onizuka in my heart is a great duelist! Number one? Everyone appreciate you? The Go Onizuka I know would never say pathetic things like that! Go: Be quiet! What do you know? Soulburner: I do know! Because Go Onizuka is a hero who gave me courage when I couldn't move forward. No matter how cornered he was, Go Onizuka was an independent duelist who believed in his own strength to the end. Where is that person who gave me courage? Go: *turns away* ...I end my turn. Soulburner: Go Onizuka... I want to duel the real you.

Do you see my vision?

But none of these ideas really come back, and it's all downhill from there for Go, with the AI implant and Earth and all. He just becomes another evil, unhinged, "pathetic" villain to be put down by Yusaku, who doesn't give a shit about him. We were so robbed of the Soulburner vs. Go rematch.

⇀ Ghost Girl and Blood Shepherd

I don't have much to say about Blood Shepherd, I'm sure I would have found him cool when I was 13. No, I really only need to talk about Ghost Girl vs. Blood Shepherd.

This duel needed to be a two-episoder. They've built up this mysterious shared past, raised the stakes by putting their accounts on the line, and then the duel is over in three turns. The majority of Vrains is two-episode duels, but Ema gets the short stick by having both of her duels be singles?

(Aoi also has 2 single episode duels, out of 3 total. Let's do some math, this season Aoi and Ema combined have 6 episodes of duels. That's the same amount that Go, Revolver, and Lightning each have alone. Blood Shepherd has 8. Soulburner gets 11 episodes of duels. And Bohman gets 12. All six of Bohman's duels are two-parters, four of them are against Yusaku, and none of them are that memorable. Couldn't he have donated one episode to Ema?)

It's revealed that Ghost Girl and Blood Shepherd are half siblings, but it's not particularly clear whether they've even spoken outside of Vrains. If they had the extra episode, they could have given them a flashback together, arguments about their respective upbringings, anything to flesh out their relationship and make the ending of this duel make sense.

Ghost Girl loses. Fine, we can't have nice things. She isn't going to get anything important for the rest of the season, so let her go out honorably. But no, Blood Shepherd doesn't even give her the dignity of following through on the stakes of the match.

It's not like I want the female character to get deleted, but without showing any kind of shared history or interpersonal relationship, this "brotherly mercy" reads as patronizing bullcrap. They're both adults who have committed to an unforgiving line of work, but Blood Shepherd does a 180 because his absent father -- who we were just told about 8 minutes ago -- actually did sort of care about him.

Never mind that his father and Ema didn't try to help him, this one sentence is apparently enough to make Blood Shepherd not only take back the stakes he proposed, but also risk and lose his life to Lightning, because, "It's a brother's responsibility to protect his sister." No, you're both adults, you don't have a history together, you don't have "a responsibility to protect her" just because you share the same father. And when that's all that they show, it feels uncomfortably essentialist, out of character, and cheaply written.

Part of this is cultural difference, but it's just a trope that I personally hate for various reasons.

⇀ The Other Ignis

I don't really have thoughts on Earth or Aqua, other than that they sure did girlcode the Water Ignis and then damsel her. Windy and Lightning are fine as mid-series antagonists, though I think they lack impact with just two of them. If either Earth or Aqua was also on the side of the bad guy Ignis, having a nice round antagonist trio would be more imposing and balanced (3 Ignis being pro-human and 3 against)

They even acknowledge themselves how underwhelming their group is, by trying to recruit Blood Shepherd, and by the fact that they had to really clumsily split up the hero team in the final fight so that they aren't clearly outmatched. This contrivance is lame. Compare that to, say, Ark Cradle in 5Ds where each character has a specific opponent, a high note to end on, and all the other characters are counting on them to prevail.

This is the same problem Vrains had in season 1, where they insist on Yusaku being the Last Man Standing, and less important characters have to be picked off so that Yusaku's big boss fight has higher stakes. We'll see if that actually pays off in season 3.

-----

Gonna cut it off here, I need to watch the rest to properly cover Bohman, Revolver, Yusaku, and Ai. I know I really went in on the writers in this section, but I am actually looking forward to these next 30 episodes. I don't think I'm gonna come away loving Vrains, but I'm very curious about this ending, and why I see so much fanart of hot anime boy AI. I think it's gonna be a good time!

...Sorry, did I forget someone again?

Sigh...

Next time on Yu-Gi-Oh Vrains Analysis: How the Fuck Did Aoi's Writing Get Worse

[cosmicanemoia]

Dark and Cloudy Sky

Amelia Shepherd x Reader

Love Me Till You Leave Me part 12

Silence hangs heavy in the air. And with that heavy hearts beat loudly.

Y/N: Remember what I said to you when we talked and talked for hours and we have deep and meaningful conversations during our date.

A: *she nodded, tears falling down her face.* "If we're not the one being left behind, we're the one who's going to leave."

Y/N: *giving her a sympathetic look and smile* I'd rather you leave me than the other way around because we both know there's no way I'll be leaving you.

She hugged you, saying sorry over and over again that it almost lost its meaning. She pulled away and looked at you and said "thank you" with a soft voice. She kissed you, stood up, and walked out the door.

Amelia had been wanting for someone to come back for her, and now that someone did, the overwhelming feeling clouded her mind. Against her better judgement, she left you and chose Kai.

When you hear the door shut close, you break out into a sob, releasing the rest of the tears you've been holding back like your love and life depended on it. It did, making it hurt more.

She left and made a choice. Some or most people tend to self-sabotage. They think that when something is perfect or safe, it'll somehow break or be ruined. So, before it happen, or before they think it would happen, they would jump the fence and dive into conclusions and ruin things with their own hands. Maybe because they think they don't deserve it. Or maybe they love the thrill, the dangerous, but won't admit it to themselves, especially to anyone else. When they've sent themselves into a downward spiral, they come to miss and long for the perfect, the safe, and the calm.

For an intelligent person, Amelia made a moronic choice. She's gonna realise it one of these days.

After a week, Amelia walks hand in hand with Kai when they go into the hospital. Everyone's head turning to look at them, eyes following them.

The hospital was quiet, so everyone was on edge. They know it meant that somehow the hospital would be in a disaster.

Amelia and Kai are having the time of their lives. They have this certain level of understanding because they are both doctors. which she didn't have with you.

You are not dense. You're just unfamiliar with some medical terms, so she needs to explain things to you. But with Kai, they already know what she's saying, sometimes, even finishing her sentences. She didn't have to translate the things she did for you because she and them spoke the same language. A language you'll never understand unless you went to a medical school, graduated, passed the medical board, and actually practised medicine.

Kai is a very organised person. Committed and skilled at almost everything they set out to do. They talk about science in a way that will hook you in, by the way they talk about it, with such passion and enthusiasm, making it seem a very interesting subject.

They know how to comfort Amelia when a surgery didn't go well (you do too). They know just the right words to say to lift her spirits up. They make her smile, and they make her laugh.

Amelia didn't care that they had left her. That didn't matter anymore because they're here now, and they're here to stay, or so she thought.

Amelia and Kai are what people call a power couple. They both excel in their fields, and they both are astounding. Intimidating, even, to some people. Together, they're like this strong wave washing away anything on the shore. A meteor falling from the sky, they were both jaw-dropping. Their skills compliment the other. Their passion aligns with each other.

"They're two puzzle pieces that just kind of fit," Amelia's words describing their relationship.

One afternoon, you went to visit your friend Teddy at the hospital. As you went into the hospital and walked to the hallway looking for your friend, you saw Amelia. She's with Kai. Those mesmerizingly dreamy blue eyes that once stared at you with so much love and passion now stared at someone else. The wide smiles and loud laughter that you get from her are now being given to somebody else. You felt a heavy weight on your chest as you stared at the power couple, your eyes watery. You were still hurt. You took a deep breath and went on with your quest.

You have got to remind Ted to stop asking to visit her in the hospital next time you see her. But, you always forgot.

Amelia is happy with Kai. Anyone can tell, even you. And it still hurts.

You finished talking with your friend. You stand up, give each other a hug, and you go to take your leave. Before you got out of the hospital, you bumped with someone.

Normally, you would be able to avoid bumping into someone, but your mind was rather preoccupied, and your eyes are on the ground. You also didn't notice that the person you bumped into slightly inhaled your scent. It was subtle, and no one would even notice it. You said sorry without looking up and finding out who you bump into, and starts to walk away, but the person chuckles and calls out your name, "y/n! Hey, you okay?" The person inquired. You knew that voice, you look up and it prove your suspicion, it was Amelia. "Hey. Ames. Sorry, Amelia, I wasn't looking. " You didn't notice she was with someone until you finished your sentence. She was with kai. You give them a sweet, gentle, and genuine smile. You nod to Kai and say hi to them before turning your back on them and finally walking away.

Kai put their hand on Amelia's back and ask "you okay?"

"Yes," Amelia replied. They went to do their things and started to talk about neuro and stuff, making jokes only them would understand.

The sky in their world is bright and sunny. While yours remains dark and cloudy ever since Amelia walks out that door and leaves you to be with Kai.

[spacesapphi]

"Moving Forward, Spiraling Downward Chapter 9- Two Sides of the Same Coin"

WOOHOO another long chapter! This was a beast to write and draw for but very fun :) I've been itching to write about our favorite Joja coworkers being friends, and figured they needed to find something to connect over. Their dynamic and friendship is quite underrated imo

CWs for this chapter include mild emetophobia, talks of mental health issues and addiction, and mentions of war

Summary: Months after moving back in, Shane finds himself struggling to connect with just about everyone in town. Having changed so much makes him feel far too different to connect anymore, and it's the loneliest feeling he's known. He'd soon come to find that there's someone in town who understands him, someone he'd never expect.

AO3 Version Here

Tumblr version below the cut!

The Stardrop Saloon was loud, expectedly so for a Friday evening. The jukebox was blasting, folks convening to dine and drink, some spending their night in the rec room. Everyone was being social and cheery, making the best of their evening. Everyone except Shane, that is. He’d claimed the stool sitting between the bar counter and the fireplace, and most nights one could find him moping there, a tankard in hand. Tonight was no exception. Seven drinks in, his head was spinning, thoughts jumbling together into mush. He still felt like shit, there was no doubt, but alcohol at least let him quiet his mind for a moment. It hushed the voices in his head that spat out the most terrible of affronts, beating him while he was already down. 

He sat holding his head in one hand, swaying woozily as he stared down into his now empty tankard. He could see a warped reflection of himself in the glass, cringing as he stared at himself, taking in every detail of his sour expression. Emily flounced over, looking cheerful as ever, resting her hands on the counter in front of her friend, “Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah…. ‘nother one…” he mumbled, passing the glass over to her with a limp arm. Emily carefully pushed it off to the side and gave him a knowing look, “You wanna try ordering some food? Another one doesn’t sound like a great idea,”

“C’mon Em, it’s my money, lemme get somethin’..”

“And you’re my friend, and I don’t think you need another,” Emily sighed, “You’ve been here every night this week, Shane. Maybe you should go home,”

“If I order some pizza will you drop it?” he grumbled, not particularly enjoying this lecture, “I already hear ‘nuff of this from my aunt,”

Emily nodded, turning to the food counter to get him a plate, “She’s just looking out for you, you know,”

“I know that,” Shane huffed, “But I’m not a child anymore, I can make my own decisions,”

Emily didn’t have anything to say in response, but the two of them silently understood what would’ve come next. Yes, Shane was in charge of his own decisions, but look where they landed him now. As much as he hated the lectures and scoldings from loved ones, he could never deny that they were right. It had been a few months now since he returned to town, the bitter air of Winter rolling in already. Everyone, especially Shane, had hoped to see him get better now that he was back, but that wasn’t exactly the case. There were good days, yes. But for every good day there seemed to be twice as many bad ones. Whenever something went well, Shane was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go to shit again. And they always seemed to for him. As much as he didn’t want to be, he was more miserable than ever. Maybe his mindset was causing it, maybe he was cursed. Shane desperately wanted the cause of his problems to be anything but himself.

Perhaps the cheerful environment of town had something to do with it. Looking around the saloon, Shane could see groups of people laughing and enjoying themselves, going on about their days with little to worry about. Turning his gaze to Emily, he could see her chatting with some tall redheaded man who looked like he jumped straight from the cover of those strange Fabio romance novels he’d seen on his aunt's bookshelf. Emily looked happy, so full of life and vibrance. Not much had changed from when she was younger. She had always been a happy person, someone that brightened up every room she walked into. Shane was once that kind of person, a long, long time ago. But not anymore. He didn’t think he could ever be that person again, either. 

This entire town, its people, even through all the changes over the years it was still all the same. Still the quirky little village hidden in the mountains that had a happy bunch of folks living in it. He felt so out of place amongst them, like a leftover puzzle piece that had no place in the final picture. As much as he yearned to, he couldn’t connect with them the way he wanted to anymore. Emily was nice enough, she always was, but she didn’t understand what he’d been through. Shane felt like he’d lived a thousand lifetimes over the past five years, slogging through every torturous day only barely being able to keep his head above water, only doing so for Jas’ sake. It was an awful circumstance, one he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. And though he was surrounded by so many loved ones now, more than ever, he never felt more alone in his life.

The chatter and laughter amongst the patrons made him want to scream. He wanted to throw down his glass, yell and wail about how awful life had been, pulling everyone down with him. It was selfish, he knew, but it just wasn’t fair. Watching so many people have such happy and fulfilling lives while he struggled made him feel so much worse about himself. Why were they allowed to succeed when he wasn’t? Why could they follow their dreams when he had to drop everything? It almost felt like they were mocking him, taking a jab at his life and state. He was a magnet for misery, and it repelled him from all the happiest folks in the room. 

Speak of the devil, doth he appear. Perhaps the happiest person Shane had met in his life had just walked into the saloon, his two best friends in tow. He averted his gaze, hoping if he didn’t see Sam, then Sam wouldn’t see him. It was nothing against the guy… well, maybe it was. Shane, the jaded and standoffish man he was, often grew weary of Sam at work. The guy always seemed to try and strike up a conversation with him, about literally anything that would pop into his mind. Shane just wanted to shut off his brain while he worked, stock shelves, go to the saloon, and then home, no interruptions. He wasn’t interested in conversation or becoming friends with anyone he worked with. He’d just give the occasional nod or grunt of acknowledgement as Sam chatted away, and eventually he’d get the hint and go back to mopping the aisles.

Sam did notice him, but decided to back off for tonight. Every time he saw Shane he seemed to look tired and grumpy, but tonight it seemed worse. He looked like he’d snap at anyone who dared look in his direction, and Sam wasn’t going to be the one to face that. He simply left him alone, striding right into the rec room with Abigail and Sebastian to play pool. 

The three of them were loud, at least to Shane they were. They were younger, and it was to be expected, but when you were drunk and had a throbbing headache, it wasn’t exactly fun to listen to. He tried to focus on the music, or anything else in the main room of the saloon, but his mind kept going back to the trio in that backroom. He couldn’t make out every word they said, picking up bits and pieces about music and some new video game one of them was obsessing over. But mostly, he heard Sam. Shane still couldn’t understand the kid. No one could be that happy, no matter how good their life was… or at least how good he assumed it to be. He didn’t know much about him outside of work, only seeing him speak with his mom and brother in passing, occasionally watching him attempt a kickflip outside his house, or taking his brother to school and the playground. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary though, at least in his opinion. Maybe that’s what happened when you had a genuinely good life, no worries that completely engulfed every waking moment of your life. Damn, was he jealous.

Peeking his head back just for a moment, he watched the three of them lounging back there, chattering away as they played probably the worst game of pool he’d ever seen. They were awful at it to be sure, but obviously were having too much fun to mind. They looked so carefree, so happy. They reminded him so much of-

He refused to entertain the thought. It was the last thing he needed right now. But now that it was in his mind, it wouldn’t leave. Everytime he heard their voices, all he could hear was him and his friends, the way they used to joke and speak to each other. He covered his ears with his hands,digging his nails so hard into the side of his head he was sure he’d break skin. He could only take it for a few moments longer before sliding off his stool, stumbling towards the entrance in desperation to get away from it. His drinks hadn’t been paid for, but he knew Emily would just add it to his ever-growing tab, one he had no clue how to pay off. Each footstep towards the door felt like it took herculean effort and concentration. He always felt so much heavier when he was drunk, like he was about to topple over at any given moment. It was an annoying feeling, especially when he had a decently long walk ahead of him. He didn’t like being drunk, it was frustrating and a pain. But it sure as hell beat the soul crushing guilt and depression that haunted every moment of his life. 

After much time, and a stop to throw up, he finally made it home, grumbling as the bright lights of Marnie’s foyer pierced his eyes. Mumbling a curse under his breath, he turned towards the kitchen, lumbering woozily towards his bedroom door. Marnie was standing at the kitchen counter, long rubber gloves on her arms as she scrubbed away at some dinner dishes. She heard Shane approaching, scrunching up her nose as the thick scent of booze radiated off of him. 

“You’re home late. Again.” She stated ever so matter-of-factly, a twinge of annoyance in her tone. Shane shrugged disinterestedly, “Yeah. I know,” he looked to the table, seeing a little coloring page and a tin of crayons sitting on its edge, “Where’s Jas?”

“Bed. Hours ago.” Marnie huffed, pursing her lips in frustration, “Third time this week I had to take care of that, Shane,”

“I know… I’m sorry,” a wave of shame hit him, the guilt piercing his heart, “I’ll be home earlier tomorrow, I promise.”

“Just like you promised today?”

“Aendi…”

“I don’t think you should go at all,” Marnie pulled the gloves from her hands, turning to face him, “How much money have you spent there this week?”

“I don’t have to-”

“How. Much.”

“I don’t know, like…” Shane did the mental math, cringing at the amount inwardly, “Probably 9,000g, not that much,”

“You know you’re in debt, you can’t be spending money so wastefully… Not to mention the health aspect,” Marnie sighed, trying her hardest to not be too harsh on him. She knew this was a struggle for him. As much as she didn’t like this, he didn’t either. It was still so hard to watch, so hard to sit on the sidelines and watch his physical and mental health decline by the day, “Shane I just want you to be healthy,”

“I’m fine,” Shane grumbled, averting his gaze. He knew she was giving him a disappointed look, and he didn’t want to see it, “I can handle myself,”

“It’s not fair to Jas either,” Marnie scolded, “She waited all night for you to come home and read a story to her. You need to be prioritizing h-”

“I am prioritizing her,” Shane snapped, “I work my ass off every day to afford what she wants and needs. I am so exhausted at the end of the day, the saloon is the one thing I do for myself. I make sure she has what she needs, I make sure she's happy, you know that, aendi!”

“Do you, Shane?”

“What’re you implying?” Shane spat, a defensive anger welling up in him and displaying on his face. Marnie stood her ground, giving him a quite similar look.

“If that were true, I wouldn't watch Jas sit by the door and wait for you to get home until she can't keep her eyes open any longer, would I? I wouldn't have to hear her ask where you are every night. I wouldn't see her cry when she thinks no one is looking,” she huffed, giving him a stern look, “Shane, that little girl is not happy… and neither are you.”

“.... Does she really do that?”

“You would know if you were home more.” Marnie scolded, “I know you need space and time for yourself, but this is getting out of hand and you know it. All of this, going to the saloon until midnight, coming home wasted… It's selfish.”

The weight of embarrassment and shame weighed down on Shane's chest, making him feel like he couldn't breathe. Just like always, Marnie was right. He'd been slipping from the moment he moved back in, and it was becoming more and more noticeable. All that talk about this being a fresh start was for nothing. He took a good step forward, and immediately fell ten steps back. Marnie noticed him on the verge of tears, immediately softening her tone and words. 

“She needs you, Shane,” Marnie sighed, “You need to work on making connections here, getting your problems under control so you can be there for her. There’s programs for it, you know. Pam suggested one that she’s gone to in the pa-”

“Oh yeah, because that worked out so well for her,” Shane hissed out with a sarcastic lilt in his voice. Marnie gave him a warning look in response. 

“You need to watch how you talk about her,” she scolded, “She’s just as worried about you, you know. Asked about you everyday when you were gone,”

“How many times are you going to bring that up?” Shane groaned, exasperation in his voice, “There’s nothin’ I can do to change what happened, and you makin’ me feel like shit about it doesn’t help. I messed up! I know that! But there’s nothin’ I can do!”

The two stayed silent for a moment, refusing to look each other in the eye. Their conversations had slowly been getting more and more strained over the past few months. Marnie had watched a steady decline with him, one that she could do little to help with. Shane resisted help at every turn, far too proud to seek out any external source to get his issues under control. He insisted that he could do it on his own, that he didn’t need anyone meddling in his affairs to get better. She tried to trust him, to believe him. It wasn’t like she could force him to do anything, after all. But watching her boy deteriorate into someone she hardly recognized, watching him close himself off from family and friends, it made her so, so worried. 

“I just want you to be okay. I want this family to be okay,” Marnie’s voice grew softer, much more understanding, “This path you’re on kills… I'm watching you throw your life away, and I just…” she exhaled deeply, closing her eyes, “Schatz, I am too old to raise another child. I need you to take better care of yourself, for everyone’s sake… especially for Jas. You need to be better than this,”

“.... I don't think I know how to be better.” Shane whispered, his tone utterly defeated. He wanted to get defensive again, to tell her to back off and let him handle things. But even in his drunken stupor, he could understand that she was right. This path was dangerous, he was selfish, he did need to be better than this. But he couldn’t admit it. He was still far too proud. Whatever. He was handling this, he knew how to get himself out of this… right? He was trying at least. All these conversations did was remind him of how much he was failing, making him feel even worse about himself, which led him to drown it in drink even further. He knew it wasn’t Marnie's intent, she was just trying to show she cared. But he couldn’t handle it, not like this. 

“You know everything I say is out of love…” Marnie whispered, “I don't want to make you feel guilty, I just want you to do better. I want you to be happy,”

Shane grabbed his door handle tight, staring blankly ahead as he pulled away from her, “Goodnight,” was all he managed to whisper, closing the door behind him. 

Turning on the light in the corner, he felt his heart sink. The room Marnie had so nicely set up for him was now a disaster. Dirty clothes and dishes covered the surfaces, an unpleasant smell starting to form in the air from their presence. Trash littered the floor as well, the crunching of paper and plastic beneath his feet. The hardwood floors were hardly even visible under the mess anymore. Everyday he promised himself he’d fix it, that he’d get it under control. He’d always start, evident by the half filled trash bags in the corner and overflowing hamper at the side. But without fail, he’d get so incredibly overwhelmed every single time that he couldn’t continue. Just looking at it now made him feel so defeated, so ashamed. He had no idea how it kept getting like this. It made him so embarrassed, especially when Marnie and Jas would take a peek inside and see just how bad it was. He wanted to be better than this.

Slinking off his work hoodie and polo, he let them fall to the floor, adding onto the ever-growing pile of laundry that he needed to work on. He kicked his shoes across the floor, hearing them hit the wall with a quiet ‘thump’. Sinking into bed after today felt like heaven, even with how lumpy and uneven the mattress was. His arms felt ready to pop from their sockets, eight hours straight of lugging heavy boxes and overdrinking had completely wiped him out. His bad knee throbbed in pain, a constant reminder of what he’d lost. Staring up at the ceiling, the one spot in this room not affected by the throes of his depressive state, he just thought. For some reason, his drinking tonight couldn’t get his mind to quiet down as much as it usually did. Maybe he was building a higher tolerance, growing used to the amount of drink he forced into his system every night. 

He thought about Jas and Marnie, how much he had to be letting them down with his behavior. No one in this house was happy and he found himself consistently being the common denominator of that problem. His aunt and goddaughter deserved better than the fuck-up he was. What Marnie said rang in his head. The thought of Jas waiting for him, crying to herself, it made him so angry. He just wanted to throttle himself, scream in his own face and ask what the hell he was doing. He thought about how disconnected he was from Emily now. She was living her own life, a happy one that didn’t need him or his baggage in it, and it killed him inside. It was his own fault, both the crumbling of their past relationship and their friendship. He wasn’t the best boyfriend back in the day, not yet mature enough to handle a relationship. And now, his lack of communication was putting their friendship in jeopardy. Shane felt like he ruined everything he touched.

And surprisingly, his thoughts kept going back to Sam and his little group of friends. There was something about the three of them that made him feel so jealous, their joy being something he envied for himself. But, they also brought some odd sense of comfort. Something about them, something about being around them reminded him of his college days with Jason and Amelia. He couldn’t exactly place it yet, or understand why he felt such a connection, especially with Sam. Sam was a particularly frustrating person in his eyes. He was tolerable of him at work, but never really went out of his way to talk to him. The kid was just so… different from him. Shane was always the pessimist these days, a miserable, lonely man that had a hard time finding joy in anything anymore. Sam couldn’t be any more different. But even still, for whatever reason, he felt some kind of connection to him. As if they perhaps were more kindred than he initially knew. What a silly thought.

As he lay there, ruminating over the pit he found himself in once again, he cried. With each passing day he felt more and more like a failure. He didn't want to be like this. No one wanted to be like this. Why couldn't he just move on? Why couldn't he pick up the pieces and get his life together? Marnie was able to do it, why couldn't he? He compared himself to her all the time, constantly seeing himself falling short where she succeeded. Watching how easily she handled their family's problems made him feel like the weakest link in the chain, an absolute embarrassment to their family name. The thoughts tortured his mind as he lay there, thoughts buzzing around and forcing him awake. Eventually the pure exhaustion he felt dragged him into a deep sleep, one that was bleak and dreamless. Restless too, he would find. 

He woke up feeling somehow much more exhausted than usual, the hangover absolutely brutal. He felt ready to vomit, his head pounding with pain as if it would explode. Oh well. It was Saturday. He could sleep in, try to sleep off the feeling. He was just about to close his eyes again, drift back off to sleep, when he heard a familiar tip-tap on his window. 

It was raining. Fuck. 

Morris for some reason insisted he come in on rainy weekends, and he dreaded them terribly. He didn’t mind the overtime pay, but actually working the hours was brutal for him. With an annoyed grumble he slid out of bed, searching around for a clean-ish uniform among the piles of laundry on the floor. Getting dressed as quick as he could, he ran out the door, hoping to get to work before it was too late. 

The rain chilled him to the bone, even with a hoodie on to protect him from the weather. With how cold the air had grown, he felt like an icicle by the time he reached the store, comforted by the comparably warm air inside. He checked the time, seeing he had just barely made it before his shift. Morris was sure to still find some issues in that. He was always upset over something.

The ache in Shane’s shoulders grew steadily as his shift went on. It wasn’t like he’d never done a stocking job before, he had plenty of experience there, but being the only stocker on staff made it a challenge. Working for Joja was a challenge in general. After a few months on the job he soon came to find that the cheery disposition Morris held was indeed covering up the cold corporate bastard he really was. He expected Shane and everyone else in this store to work like damn robots, keeping up at paces that seemed impossible. He was getting the hang of it though, slowly but surely. 

He was finishing up stocking the very last palette of some grotesque crime against food and humanity as a whole, white mushroom soda, listening to the commotion behind him. Sam was entering the same aisle, mopping the floor… rather, he was supposed to be mopping the floor. The man was practically dancing across the aisle, using his mop like it was some microphone or prop as he silently mouthed along to whatever was playing in those giant headphones of his, very obviously not noticing Shane was in the same aisle and watching. Shane could only hear bits and pieces of what was playing through those bulky headphones, but it sounded good. Very good, actually. 

“What are you listening to?” he finally asked, raising his voice to ensure Sam could hear. Sam stopped in his tracks, pulling his headphones away from one ear. He looked mildly surprised, curious that Shane was the one to actually start a conversation with him. Typically it would be Sam trying to get Shane to speak, an effort that could be as hard as pulling teeth with how standoffish the man was. 

“What’d you say?”

“I asked what you were listening to,” Shane repeated in a flat tone, “I could hear it from over here,”

A pink tint appeared on Sam’s face, embarrassment setting in. He could be self conscious about his music, and the thought that it was that audible, and that he had an audience… oh it made him feel so nervous. Sam pulled his walkman from his pocket, fumbling with the volume dial to turn it down, “I-I didn’t know you could hear that… sorry, dude…”

“Why are you sorry, it was good,” Shane admitted, shrugging nonchalantly, ‘I liked it,”

“You… you did?” Sam was shocked to say the least. He wasn’t sure that Shane enjoyed much of anything in the first place, but he liked his music? 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. Listened to a lot of stuff like that in college, heh…” Shane mused. He put the last can on the shelf, lifting himself off the ground with a grunt. He tried to look at the label on the cassette sitting in the walkman, “What band is it?”

“Mine, actually.. Well, my friends and I’s band,” Sam admitted. 

“No kidding?” Shane raised a brow, “What do you play?”

“Bass, I do the singing too,” Sam reluctantly pulled the cassette from the player, holding it out to Shane, “Do you.. Want to listen to it? I have a bunch more back home,”

Shane stared at the cassette, looking at the little sharpie label on the front, “Goblin Destroyer, huh?”

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” Sam asked, looking embarrassed once again. Shane shrugged, taking the cassette in his hands, “Nah. Sounds badass, actually,”

“You mean it?”

“I don’t have a reason to lie to you,” Shane scoffed. He slipped the tape in his pocket, “I’ll listen to it tonight, thanks,”

Sam gripped the handle of the mop tighter, still feeling his chest squeeze tight. He didn’t know why he could get this self-conscious about it. Music, playing in the band, it made him feel alive. Why did being open about it make him so embarrassed? Maybe in this case it was just that it was Shane. He seemed to be the standoffish, judgemental type, and Sam certainly didn’t take him as someone who’d enjoy that kind of music. But maybe this was a good thing, a step in the right direction finally. He finally  found something the two had in common! 

“Boys!” Morris’ snippy voice rang out through the empty aisle. He stood at the other end, hands on his hips as he looked to them in annoyance, “It’s 5. You can get going now,”

“Oh thank fuck” Shane thought to himself.

He and Sam hurriedly got their things together to leave, the pair anxious to get out of the bleak store and get on with their day. Shane was pleasantly surprised to find the rain had let up, the sky showing off its sunset hues. Sam found a sense of joy in it too, smiling upwards towards the sky as the two of them made their way on the path towards home. 

“Isn’t it awesome?” Sam mused.

“What?” 

“All of this,” Sam motioned towards the skyline, the sunset creeping over the mountaintops, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Hard to stay sad when there’s so many little things to be grateful for,”

Shane squinted at the sky, rolling his eyes just a bit, “It’s… a sunset. It happens everyday, Sam,”

“Yeah, but each one is unique! It’s all in the little things, man,” Sam smiled, “There’s beauty everywhere! Like the little flowers on the cliff there, the reeds in the river… You just gotta know where to look for it,”

“That’s… deep,” Shane raised his brows in mild surprise, “Didn’t know you were so introspective,”

“You never asked!”

As they passed over the bridge the pair went their separate ways, Sam waving goodbye as he ran off towards his home. Shane took a sharp left, approaching the Stardrop Saloon for the seventh time that week. He took a step up the creaking staircase, putting a hand on the doorknob. Something stopped him from twisting it open though. It was like his body was locked, preventing him from taking another step forward. His mind raced, a prominent frustrated expression on his face. 

“You promised aendi you’d be home earlier…” he thought to himself, “Have some fucking self control, get yourself together,”

His aunt's words from the night before came to mind, the images of Jas waiting for him at the front door burned into the front of his mind. He could just imagine her little face looking so, so sad, hearing her soft crying echo in his mind. The guilt made him feel unable to breathe. He needed to do better. He needed to be a better guardian, a better role model. Pushing responsibility to Marnie wasn’t fair for anyone in their house, and he knew it well. Begrudgingly, he removed his hand from the saloon’s door, turning to walk back home. 

Jas once again stood in the foyer, her little purple eyes trained on the door. She’d been like this every night this week, intent on waiting for Shane to come home right after work. Marnie was setting the table for dinner, taking a nervous look at the clock. It was already 6:00. She feared Jas would once again be getting her hopes up for nothing, just like every other night this week. She felt so much pity, so much anger. Seeing her get her hopes up like this, watching her reluctantly leave her spot as the night grew on, seeing how quiet she got when she realized Shane wasn’t coming home yet… It killed her. 

On one hand, Marnie was glad that Shane was finally relying on her for help. On the other, he was starting to rely far too much on her. It was noticeable to everyone in the house, and she was growing weary of it. It also made Marnie realize that she didn’t know how to help him. She thought she did, she thought her experience in raising him would help when it came to giving him advice on how to navigate his situation. But it didn’t. Every attempt she made fell flat at best, drove him away at worst. She thought about staging some sort of intervention, maybe getting the new town doctor to sit down with him and discuss treatment plans, but she couldn’t force him. She knew she couldn’t. But she also couldn’t stand seeing her grand-niece look so dejected night after night. Marnie prayed that Shane kept his promise, that he would walk through that door any minute. 

Almost as if on cue, the front door swung open, Jas’ excited shrieks ringing out as she ran to her godfather, “You’re home!” she squealed, jumping into his arms, “I missed you!”

“Missed you too, chickadee,” Shane smiled, hugging her tight, “You have a good day?”

“Yeah! Me n’ Vincent played in the rain and I caught bugs!” Jas giggled, “I got one in a little cage, aendi said she’s a roly-poly!”

The girl broke out into a ramble about bug facts she read about in the books Penny gave her for classes, telling Shane all about the crazy things she learned about them. Jas was like a sponge for knowledge, taking every little fun fact and quip she learned and storing it away in her little mind. She genuinely loved learning, but she loved sharing that knowledge even more. Shane listened intently as she rambled, a tiny smile on his face. He looked up towards the kitchen as she talked, seeing Marnie stand there with a soft look on her face. She looked relieved, proud even. It seemed he had taken their conversation to heart. Deep down both of them knew that this wouldn’t be permanent, that he would slip up again at some point, but for now, they chose to bask in this moment. It was a good one, and they didn’t want anything coming in it’s way. 

The night went on with little issue. Shane, with his mind clear, was able to participate much more in family activities. He talked more at dinner, played all the little games Jas requested, helped Marnie with cleanup. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. It was a good day, and as fleeting as this would be, he was glad for it. 

Soon enough it was time for bed, and Jas was incredibly excited. She waited patiently, dressed up in her favorite pajamas with a storybook in hand. Shane was busy brushing her hair back, helping her slip on her little yellow bonnet, tying it in a bow in the back. 

“Can you read the book now?” she asked, a slight impatience in her voice. She’d been waiting for a story all week, and she was incredibly excited for it. Jas refused to let even Marnie read to her, insisting that she wanted it to be Shane the entire week. Shane took the little book from her hands, finding it to be one about all kinds of fables and fairy stories. Penny had lent it to her after seeing her gain such an interest in those sorts of tales. He sat next to her bed, letting her get comfy under the covers before he began to read. Little stories about forest fairies and Junimos, little creatures who took care of nature and the world around them filled the book. Jas listened on in wonder to the fables, imagining herself running into one of these creatures herself someday, making friends with them just like the characters in the book did. Shane had a great storytelling voice that kept her invested in each and every fable, making each word feel real and true. 

“Uncle Shane?”

“Yeah, Jassy?”

“Are those stories real?”

Shane closed the book, setting it on the nightstand and giving her a smile, “Well, what do you think?”

Jas thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah! I think so!”

“Then there you go,” Shane mused, reaching up to pull the drawstring on her lamp, “Time to sleep though, it’s a school night,”

“Okay… goodnight!” Jas yawned, resting her head back on her pillow. She watched as Shane got up and walked towards the door before she shot up again, “Uncle Shane!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Thank you for comin’ home early,” Jas smiled, “I like it when you read stories, you do funny voices,” 

“You’re welcome, kiddo,”

“Can you come home early tomorrow? Please?”

“... I’ll try,” Shane muttered, “G’night, Jassy,”

Shane made his way to his room, avoiding turning on his light so he wouldn’t see the mess yet again. He was far too tired today to have that on his mind again, or to get out of his work clothes. He unceremoniously flopped down onto his bed, wincing as he felt something sharp dig into his leg. Reaching into his pocket he found the cassette Sam had gifted him, remembering he promised to give it a listen. He lazily reached over to his nightstand, fumbling his hand around to search for his own old walkman. Slipping in the tape and sliding on a janky pair of headphones, he turned on the old player. The same tunes Sam had been dancing to earlier today began to blast in his ears.

 It was just as good as Shane had thought before, if not even better. Damn, this kid was talented. His friends too. He could hear a genuine passion for the craft in the vocals and instruments, able to tell that the three of them were having the time of their lives recording these tracks. He couldn’t understand why Sam was so self conscious about him hearing it earlier. Shane eventually let himself be pulled into sleep, leaving the headphones on and letting the tape play through the night. Tonight, he found he slept just a bit better as he listened on. 

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

The morning was quiet as Sundays always were. Shane and Jas had left to go spend the day outdoors, Marnie sitting at the front counter of the shop. It had been dreadfully slow today, and she found herself feeling bored to near death. Suddenly, the door to the ranch swung open, making her jump just a bit in surprise. A very happy looking Sam walked into the foyer, stepping up to the counter and resting his elbows on the edge, “Mornin’ ma’am!”

“Same to you!” Marnie mused, “Ms. Yoder is just fine though, ma’am is a bit… formal,”

“Sorry ma’- Ms. Yoder,” Sam corrected himself, getting a content smile from Marnie, “Oh that’s alright… Anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, we need more eggs,” Sam shrugged sheepishly, “I kinda dropped a few while we were making breakfast and we’re almost out,”

“Let me go get some for you, I’ll be right back!” 

Sam waited patiently at the counter while Marnie entered her coop, drumming his fingertips on the ledge. He took a look around the foyer, scanning over all the little decorations and photos hanging on its walls. Cute little pieces of art, signs with words in a language he didn’t understand, and a barrage of family photos from the past few decades, chronicling the life of his coworker and his family. His eyes landed on a more recent photo, one that caught his interest. Shane stood in the middle, wearing a band tee and varsity jacket. His hair was long and styled in a mullet, not much unlike Sams. He looked happy, his face not yet scarred from the throes of age and stress. Two people stood at his side, smiling alongside him as they posed for the camera. The one on the left looked a lot like Jas, and the one on the right looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing on the planet. They looked so happy, so full of life. He thought the pair standing with Shane must be Jas’ parents, and wondered where they were now, wondered what happened that made Shane look the way he did today.

Marnie entered the house again, holding a small basket full of eggs, “Here you go! Your mother can return this at aerobics this week,” she turned her focus to where Sam was looking, smiling when she saw the photo. She’d taken that many years ago on their first day of sophomore year in college, a day she remembered well, “They look so happy, don’t they?”

“Yeah!” Sam agreed, “Who are those two?”

“Jas’ parents! They were good friends with my boy years back,”

“Huh…” Sam furrowed his brow, “I thought Shane was Jas’ uncle, isn’t he?”

Marnie shook her head, pulling the frame from the wall to give Sam a closer look, “Oh no, Shane doesn’t have any siblings… It’s more of an honorary thing, Jas is his goddaughter,” she explained. Her face softened into a melancholic look, “These two were just friends, very close ones. The sweetest things too, rest their souls,”

“Are they-?”

“They’ve passed, yes,” Marnie sighed, “I’m not sure how much he’s comfortable with me telling you, but… Jas was just a baby when it happened, Shane adopted her to honor their wishes. It’s been hard for all of us, but I am proud of him. Takes a lot of strength to step into that role when you’re young,”

“Yeah.. it does,” Sam felt something shift in his mind. So much about Shane suddenly made much more sense to him. The attitude, the anger, the frustration, all emotions that Sam knew all too well. Shane just didn’t mask it as well as Sam did, coped in much different ways. Was that why he was at the saloon so much? He knew that must be such a weight to carry, stepping into a fatherly role for a child you shouldn’t have to be parenting, for one reason or another. He used to feel sympathy for the man, but now there was a sense of empathy in its place.

He reminisced to one of the times his father had left for deployment years ago. He was sixteen, Vincent merely a baby. It was such an emotional day, tensions high and a quiet anger in the house. Sam didn’t understand why Kent had to go again, why he was leaving them yet again after so many promises that he wouldn’t. That day, his father made him promise to take care of his mother and brother if anything were to happen to him. Those words were burned into his head, even when he was well into adulthood. The thought of something happening to his father, this act of being “man of the house” becoming a permanent title, the thought made him sick.This entire experience felt so isolating, especially now that Kent was deployed again, no return date in sight. He loved his friends, but he knew they couldn’t understand that kind of pressure. They could sympathize, sure, but he never had someone he knew who could truly empathize with this. Not until now.

“Are you okay?” Marnie questioned, trying to get Sam's attention, “I think I lost you there…”

“Oh! Don’t worry, I’m okay Ms. Yoder,” Sam assured, giving her a shrug. He took the basket from her hands, fumbling for some cash in his pocket, “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh put your money away, this one is on the house,”

“... You sure?” 

Marnie nodded, giving him a smile, “Just make sure I get that basket back and we have nothing to worry about. Tell your mother hello for me, won’t you?”

“I will, promise!” 

With that Sam waved goodbye, heading back home with the basket in hand. He couldn’t get that picture out of his head the entire time he walked back. Shane had been such a mystery to him the past few months. Seeing how he acted compared to his much more cheerful family was confusing to say the least, but now, he thought he finally understood. As gruff and standoffish as that man was, Sam could finally see another side of him, one that was kind, happy even. Maybe he could try a bit harder to be his friend, then maybe he could see that side of him in person. 

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

That next Monday at work, Shane kept catching Sam giving him odd looks through his shift, ones that unnerved him. Sam usually looked fairly content, finding enjoyment in his work, trying to drag Shane into conversations. But today, there was a weird sort of heaviness in the air. He looked almost sad, staying quiet much of the day, and that’s not the Sam he knew. When they went on their lunch break, the silence was almost deafening. It made him so uncomfortable, so weirded out. Shane finally broke, desperate to know what was wrong.

“The hell’s your problem, Samson?”

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been looking at me like someone just died. What’s up with you today?”

Sam pulled off his headphones, setting them on the breakroom table with a soft *clack*, “Just thinkin, I guess,”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?” Shane demanded, “You’re weirdin’ me out,”

“I went to your aunt's shop for eggs yesterday. I saw this photo on the wall and-”

Shane cut him off with a loud, frustrated groan. He knew exactly where Sam was going with this. It wasn’t the first time Marnie had been so open about this situation, and sure wouldn’t be the last. He clasped a hand to his face, dragging it down dramatically, “Shit… I hate when she just tells people about that, I-” he exhaled deeply, shaking his head, “Sorry, I don’t know why she did that… The entire town doesn’t need to know my sob story,”

“I-I just wanted to say I-”

“Stop,” Shane grumbled, holding up a hand, “I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are for my loss. I’ve heard it so many damn times that it doesn’t mean anythin’ to me anymore,”

“It’s not that!” Sam assured, “I wanted to say that I get it. That’s gotta be rough,”

“You get it?” Shane repeated, raising a brow in skeptical curiosity, “What do you mean you ‘get it’?”

Here went nothing. Sam folded his hands, looking down at the blank table before him, “My dad, he’s in the service. Been in and out as long as I can remember. It’s always been hard, especially for mom. And when Vince was born it got harder,” he shrugged nervously as he continued on, “I’ve basically had to step up and fill that role for my brother while he’s gone… I don’t want to be his dad, though. I shouldn’t have to be. I’m his brother… I know it’s not the same, but I think I get what you’re feeling… It’s unfair, it’s frustrating, and-”

“Makes you feel like you’re alone? Like no one understands you?” Shane cut in, giving Sam a much more empathetic expression. Sam nodded silently, still looking down. 

The part of Shane that felt jealousy and aggravation towards Sam melted away in almost an instant. He could’ve never known that someone like Sam was hiding that under all the sunshine. Sam was so well adjusted, in a much better spot than he was, and he was even younger than Shane when that responsibility was thrust upon him. It made his heart hurt for him, it made him want to help him, even though he didn’t know how. Shane didn’t even know how to help himself, for crying out loud.

“How do you do it?”

"Huh?"

"How do you stay so...." Shane motioned in the air, "How are you always so damn happy, then? You deal with all that and you just… how aren't you miserable all the time?”

“I’m not always happy,” Sam admitted, “Sometimes you gotta put on a brave face, act happy when you’re not. I don’t want Vince to know the truth of how scary this all is. He shouldn’t have to think about war, or the possibility that dad isn’t coming home….”

“But it’s hard to be the one who has to keep it together all the time, huh?” Shane asked, his tone surprisingly understanding and soft. That signature bitterness was nowhere to be found. 

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, “I pretend everything is okay, I act like someone I’m not. It sucks. I just want to be myself,”

“That’s no way to cope, kid… I know I’m in no spot to criticize, or give advice, but-” Shane took a pause, trying to think about his next words carefully, “Maybe talk to people. Your friends, your mom. Don’t put yourself through this alone, don’t try to prove to people that you can keep it together. I tried that, look where it got me,” he motioned to himself, grimacing at the sight.

Sam shrugged, “I don’t know if I can… People already think I’m super immature… even stupid. I don’t want to make them think I can’t handle myself,”

“Speakin’ from experience, you need to. Don’t make the same mistakes I did,” Shane chuckled bitterly, clenching a hand tight, “You don’t wanna end up this way, some miserable loser that just sucks the life out of everything he touches.”

He looked back to Sam, but for just a moment, didn't see his coworker sitting there. In his place sat that terrified 25 year old from all those years ago. He looked so clueless and afraid of what the future held for him. There was an naivety in his eyes, the pit he would fall into not yet in front of him. He saw himself, and Yoba he did not want Sam to end up like he did.

Part of him felt guilty for assuming Sam had some perfect life. Shane knew well about the war going on with the Gotoro Empire, how brutal things were. Every day you could open the news to see some kind of new tragedy, one that just shattered your soul. He couldn't imagine having a loved one participating in it, what that must feel like. It must be terrifying. But even still, even through all of it, Sam kept that happy face. He took care of Vincent, even when he shouldn't have to. And somehow, he was still a kind person, void of that bitterness and rage that Shane let consume him whole. Sam coped with kindness and positivity, Shane coped with vices. Sam was a source of light to everyone in his life, and Shane was a deep, dark pit that dragged people down. They were two sides of the same coin, men in similar situations that couldn’t handle it any differently from the other. Though it was something Shane never believed he would think in his entire life, he wished he could be more like Sam.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re stupid,” Shane admitted, “Immature?... Maybe. But you’re young, you’re allowed to be immature,”

“And I don’t think you’re a loser,” Sam gave him a weak smile, “I think you’re just hurting, you need a friend,”

“Maybe I have one now,” Shane mused. Sam gave him a look of surprise, not expecting that in the slightest. He wanted Shane to be a friend, sure, but with how things had been going, he never thought it would come to be. He smiled, sitting up straight for the first time that night. Talking about all this, especially with someone who had even a shred of understanding of this situation, it made it feel like some weight was off his shoulders. He still felt like he was bearing the world on his back, and he doubted that feeling would go away until his father was home for good. But he felt just a bit lighter, and for that he was grateful. 

Shane had thought that he was some ill-fitting, unneeded piece of the puzzle that made up Pelican town. It was a lonely feeling, one that consumed his mind, made his bitterness grow like a strangling vine in his soul. But maybe he wasn’t as ill-fitting as he thought. Maybe he just hadn’t found his place yet. He certainly wouldn’t today, or tomorrow, or even anytime soon. But having another person, someone outside of family, who understood him made him feel like it was possible. That feeling of dread and fear hadn’t yet gone away. He doubted it every would, honestly. But at least he wasn’t alone in it.

Maybe he could take a page from Sam’s book, though. Maybe he just needed to look at things from a different perspective, try more to see the better things in life. He looked up towards the window in the breakroom, watching as the sunset colors began to roll in over the mountain tops, signaling the end of the day. The flowers along the cliff overlooking town swayed in the wind, the sound of the river carrying over to where he sat.

It was beautiful.

[sleepingpopplio]

Izuku Midoriya and confronting a complicated past— an analysis

With the upcoming arc in the anime about to come after next week’s episode, I think that it’s important to talk about Izuku as a character, and everything that has led him to this moment and this particular arc in the series. While there is a lot going on in that Kid’s head, most of the things that directly cause Deku to act the way he does during his vigilante time has been left unsaid and up to the reader to pick up on. This could be seen as sloppy writing, but it could also be seen as a great use of subtlety to create a slow downward spiral for our protagonist that can be incredibly rewarding for readers who take the time to do some extra sleuthing. So before the arc begins, and before the inevitable controversy on whether or not the arc was rushed or came out of nowhere, how about we take a close look at Izuku Midoriya as a character and his depth that is often ignored. Let’s take a peek at how his entire arc is filled with tragedy, hope, and the importance of confronting one’s past. Sit back, grab a snack, and enjoy my first in depth BNHA analysis where I hope to give manga readers who are currently watching the anime some added perspective. Also disclaimer: I love all the characters in this series and will not be bashing on any of them, as I feel as though it would be undermining the messages of the story and the depth of the characters. Nothing I say is meant to be putting down any characters and I am not blaming any single character for Izuku’s struggles. All fans of any characters are safe and welcome to enjoy this.

At the beginning of the series during the very first line from our protagonist, which is something that is supposed to help the audience understand the type of story they are about to read— Izuku says “people are not born equal”. He also states that he learned that fact at the young age of four years old. From the very beginning, Deku was made to believe that he is less than everyone else. Less than those with quirks, and therefore less of a human. Quirks, literally translated from Japanese, mean individuality. To be quirkless, in the eyes of MHA’s society, is to be without a soul. Or at least, that is what can be understood by a small child who simply wants to belong. Therefore, deku internalizes form a young age that he inherently has less value as a quirkless boy, and such internalizing severely damages his perception of himself for the rest of the series. He’s a useless deku that does not have much to contribute. However, during the very same first scene we also see Izuku fighting back against the kids trying to beat him up. Despite the odds stacked against him, Izuku midoriya is determined to prove himself. He’s determined to prove to others, and to himself, that he has value. He is also determined to keep moving forward despite society seemingly turning him away. But children need time to process their emotions. They need time to learn and talk through the issues they’re facing. Izuku does not do that. He keeps fighting, he keeps wanting to be a hero, but he doesn’t talk to any adult around him about how he feels. He doesn’t get told that he is perfect the way he is, or that he doesn’t have to prove anything. What happens when such insecurities and trauma are not given the space to heal at an early age? Well let’s move forward a few years…

When Deku meets all might, and demonstrates his innate and pure heroism when he runs to save Bakugo from the sludge villain, he is offered a once an a lifetime chance: One For All. He is told that he can become a hero, and is aided in training to use the quirk and get into UA. By this point, Izuku’s self esteem issues that stemmed from his childhood and the the perception of quirklessness that was placed upon him by the world around him have only grown. He wants to be a hero, but he also has become quiet and reserved, as he thinks of himself more as an afterthought. He wants to help people, because he cares and he is a kind hearted individual, but also because he want to be useful. He has to be a useful hero, but how? The quirk of One For All thus represents a way to be useful in the way that Izuku thinks is correct, which is by being a quirked individual. So what happens when you give a kid with extreme self esteem issues, and who views himself as flawed for simply being himself, a very powerful quirk along side the opportunity to become a hero? That child latched onto the quirk like a lifeline. They have to make good use of their new quirk; they have to utilize the blessing granted to them or else they will remain useless and will be left behind. Izuku will work hard to earn his quirk because he feels as though he is unworthy, even though he already proved himself the second that his body moved on its own. Therefore, the second Izuku is given his quirk, he begins the cycle of using it as an unhealthy coping mechanism and source of validation. He is more hopeful than ever when given the quirk, but his unhealthy mindset is also given the power to run rampant. This is the story of a boy becoming the greatest hero he says, so early on in the series, but it also of a boy desperately trying to become more than he currently is, for better and for worse.

This then leads to the beginning of his time at UA, where Izuku, in addition to clinging onto his quirk as a replacement for his self esteem, begins reclaiming the meaning of his nickname Deku. “Deku is the name of a hero” he declares, and while taking back the power from his former bully and standing up for himself is an incredibly uplifting moment or Izuku in the beginning of the manga, there is another side of the coin that is the reclamation of Deku. Izuku Midoriya feels as though he has to be the new, hero Deku, or else there is nothing else worthwhile about him. He has to prove himself as a true hero or else he’ll have to go back to the old, useless Deku…He’ll forever be left behind. So, he breaks himself. Over, and over, and over again. The hero named Deku breaks his limbs time and time again, because if he doesn’t push himself to the brink, then he hasn’t done enough, and therefore he has failed the quirk that he was blessed with and failed the people who have helped him. The sentiment that he needs to hurt himself, or even nearly get himself killed, is incredibly concerning and could even be seen as suicidal ideology. Furthermore, this ideology creates an intense fear that follows Izuku wherever he goes, and even causes him to blame himself in scenarios where it’s not his fault at all, such as the summer camp arc where he was nearly killed by muscular, yet still beats himself up over Bakugo’s capture.

Another development that occurs at the beginning of Izuku’s time at UA is the start of an insurmountable amount of pressure being placed on his shoulders. When Izuku first received One For All, he was told that he could use the quirk to achieve his dreams of being a hero. He knew nothing of its past, and was given no indication that he had to live up to it. Yet, during the tournament arc Allmight begins mentioning the idea of Izuku becoming the next symbol of peace. While an honor to have, being the number one hero and an international symbol was not what Izuku, a fourteen year old kid at the time of the sludge villian attack, signed up for. Yet, he takes on the responsibility with a nervous smile on his face, and the shadow of all might begins following him. Next, he learned about the horrifying figure that is All For One, and Izuku is told that he may have to fight him one day; He may have to fight someone that he had previously thought to be nothing more than an urban legend. The child who wanted to become a hero now has to be prepared to fight the demon lord. Moreover, these revelations begin the process of Izuku placing more and more pressure on himself to be the best hero possible. He cannot afford to make a mistake. He cannot afford to be useless, because the legacy of One For All demands that he be exceptional. Afterall, he’s the ninth user. Do the wants of Izuku Midoriya really matter more than the fate of the world?

During all of this, Izuku slowly becomes more comfortable with his quirk, and grows in confidence. He truly becomes equals with Bakugo and works with him to mend their relationship, and he also develops his shoot style in an effort to move away from imitating All might. These things are all possible development for Izuku’s character and also gradually take place as the series goes on. After so many years of being quiet, he finally opens himself up again; He opens himself up to love from his peers, and opens himself up to new experiences. He also becomes more willing to talk back to others, as demonstrated by his attitude towards Endeavor, and later his more frequent and friendly banter with Bakugo. However, the self esteem issues and insecurities never go away, and Deku still breaks himself every chance he gets. The pressure also still continues to build as Allmight retires, and Izuku becomes truly trapped in his role as the successor. He accepts his role, and is happy to be serving others, but Allmight’s retirement leaves a void that Izuku feels as though there is no one else left to fill but himself. There’s no backing out now, and Izuku’s quirk development now has to speed up or else he will never be able to fill that void. He also witnesses the might of All For One in person, and the nightmare of him having to face the demon lord becomes even more of a reality. Through all of this, Izuku still refuses to talk about his feelings with his peers or the adults around him, and instead he decides to keep marching forward without taking any time to let himself, or his mind, rest. The only sliver of hope for Izuku’s mental well-being is the fact that he still allows himself to cry. Therefore, the shadow of responsibility that followed Izuku morphs into a massive weight on his shoulders that helps to steer his development backwards and into character regression.

Izuku’s mental health then takes a turn for the worst after the Overhaul arc, which was also a turning point for the series with its dark tone. As Izuku sees for himself the real horrors of the criminal underground, he once again blames himself for Eri’s circumstances and his inability to save someone. Through this experience, Izuku becomes so entrenched in the idea of becoming the perfect hero that he even begins denying himself the right to cry. He says that “heroes don’t cry”, and other characters such as Todoroki are shocked at the statement by their friend. Crying was one of Deku’s last healthy coping mechanisms, and he loses that too. Nighteye’s death cements this fact, as it is actually the last time that Deku sincerely cries in series, before the end of vigilante arc. All other times that he cries moving forward form this point are played off as gags, and thus Izuku represses his emotions to an extent that is even foreign to him, as someone who has been suppressing his emotions since he was a small child. It should also be noted that this arc highlight’s Deku’s uncertainty as a holder of One For All. This shows that no matter how much Deku’s confidence improves, he will continuously view himself as not good enough and fear the return of the former “useless” Deku. In addition, the overhaul arc also highlights Izuku’s loss of innocence. As I said before, Izuku is exposed to the true cruelties & horrors of the villian underground, but this development is not new. Dating back to the Stain arc, Izuku has been gradually losing more and more of his innocence. Even when he endured a very difficult childhood, Deku was at least able to told onto hope and be optimistic for the future, but being thrusted into the world of heroes takes the bright eyes boy and chips away at his soul. He keeps going, because as always he refuses to give himself time to heal, but the Izuku at the end of the Overhaul arc is not the same person as we was when he first enrolled in UA, and he never will be again. The fear, responsibility, and loss of innocence all culminate to send the mental health of Izuku Midoriya into a free fall, but he would never admit it. Instead, he keeps on smiling.

We are getting close to the vigilante arc (I hope you’ve been enjoying this so far!), but one final significant development in Izuku’s mental state occurs during the Class 1-A and Class 2-A training session, where he is once again given responsibilities that he never asked for. At this point, Izuku’s confidence has grown exponentially, but on further inspection much of that confidence seems to be misplaced. You see, while Izuku becomes extremely confident in his use of One For All, he still remains insecure about himself as an individual. He still lives in fear of being useless, and constantly needs to prove himself. This is because Izuku Midoriya the individual is being slowly left behind, while the Deku the hero becomes comfortable with his quirk because if he can’t master his quirk then he has nothing. He is nothing… Then Blackwhip appears, and Izuku has to relearn his quirk even though he had already been working fro months to get to to the place he’s currently at. It feels like a slap to the face, but now that Izuku has now more formally met the vestiges, he’s given no choice but to accept his new quirks in addition to his role in “completing One For All,” as The 1st user puts it. Izuku Midoriya fades even more, the incredible amount of responsibility grows even more, and the hero Deku sees himself as nothing else but the ninth holder. Most of this understanding of Izuku’s mental state is not actually spoken of out loud in the manga/anime, but the context clues of the events leading up to this moment (as shown by all the writing before this), Izuku’s facial expressions, and the events afterward help strip away the smile that Izuku is so determined to keep on his face almost the entire arc and show high Izuku’s walls have grown around his internal anguish. Therefore, the metaphorical vault shown that Izuku uses to lock away his quirks is also used to lock away his emotions once and for all. The only leak in this facade that we have until the end of the vigilante arc is…

Izuku’s character regression has already been set in stone by the time the war arc comes around, but what is important to note is how his repressed emotions manifest in the form of his intense rage. We’ve seen this before, with how Izuku becomes incredibly intimidating and unhinged during his fights with villains such as Muscular and Stain. All For One’s theme even plays in the anime as Izuku fights Overhaul to represent how monstrous he is int eh eyes of villains during battle. The difference during this arc is that other characters are finally catching on to just how toxic Izuku’s ideology has become. Bakugo in particular takes takes note of just how not ok it is for Izuku to not take himself into account, and shows visible concern while Izuku fights with Shigaraki in the air. Not only is Izuku being destructive to himself, but he also lashes out so harshly that is seems though he intends to kill Shigaraki in the moment. But to Izuku, he has no other choice. He is Deku, a hero, and the Deku who always does his best. Deku himself veery clearly states during this arc that he will no longer be the useless deku, and with that statement he resolves to kill the remnants of Izuku Midoriya, the quirkiness kid with bright eyes, himself. He cannot afford to be useless. He refuses. He will kill himself during this fight with Shigaraki if that’s what it takes to be a hero who saves everyone and a hero who is worthy of being the ninth holder of one for all. Finally, everything has come full circle, and the name Deku starts as something negative, then is given hope to become something positive, but then once again becomes a toxic image within Izuku’s life. That is why it is so important when Izuku is called by his first name in the vigilante arc— because Izuku Midoriya, both the quirkiness child and the current person, are deserving of love and have value beyond their quirk. Izuku is more than One For All, but unfortunately all of his repressed emotions that have been highlighted throughout this entire analysis have to explode out of him in order for him to heal. In addition, Deku and the repression of his emotions has led him to push everyone else away, even back when he was smiling nonstop. The war arc simply showcases ho bad that seclusion has gotten, and that when it comes down to it Deku will purposely exclude his peers in order to suffer alone.

Izuku, in the vigilante arc, will simply be the ninth holder of One For All, whose only purpose and value lies in defeating All For One himself. Furthermore, at the center of this entire discussion, is the fact that Izuku is afraid of his past. All of his self esteem issues come from such a young age, and yet he does not know what else to do besides run from it. Izuku Midoriya is a character that is so defined by his past, yet is so desperate to escape it. Therefore, he will need to be reminded by his loved ones that the cycle of trauma that he has endured throughout his life does not have to continue. He can choose his own way. He is not shackled by his past, and thus healing is possible. It’s not too late, and all he needs is his friends to remind him of why he is loved for his heart, and not his quirk. Therefore there is no singular character that got through to Deku. All of 1-A saved the boy who was so desperate to save anyone but himself.

With that said…

Deku’s entire arc throughout the series leading up to the vigilante arc has been filled with regression, in the sense that the heros around him place more and more pressure on him to the point that he does not consider himself human, but rather a tool that has no value outside of One For All. This is the story of a boy that becomes the greatest hero, but also of a boy that was stripped of his innocence and beaten down by a system that rejected him since the beginning, yet he still dreamed of being a part of. The entire vigilante/villain hunt arc brings together all of the pent up pain and self-loathing that has been following him since the beginning of the series, and shows how everything that he’s been hiding has finally caught up to him. The pain and trauma that we see from Izuku in this arc was always there, and all it took was the war arc to trigger it to come forward. In conclusion, Izuku Midoriya is an extremely complicated character who has been on a fascinating downward spiral since the beginning of the series, and if readers can take the time to see how he got to where he is, then maybe we can at least better understand the context behind the vigilante/villain hunt arc, and the complexity behind My Hero Academia’s protagonist.

Credit to @mettywiththenotes for having the post that inspired this essay, and that I originally had the conclusion of this analysis posted under as a reblog. Also credit to @pikahlua’s mha discord server that I’m in for encouraging me to write this!!!

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Every week I will post various reviews I've written so far in 2024. You can check out my Goodreads for more up-to-date reviews HERE. You can friend me on Goodreads here.

Have you read any of these? What were your thoughts?

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305. Kraken's Sacrifice by Katee Robert--⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was OK, kind of forgettable. Someone wrote a short review that just said "I wish this series was written better" and honestly...yes. LOL. There is SO MUCH potential here.

The romance was kind of weird, like the pacing was off. One moment he hates her and then boom--sexy time and suddenly he's in love. I also couldn't stop giggling at the fact that she sees his tentacles and immediately was like, "Yes, that. I want." Listen, I don't want to yuck anyone's yum, but I think it's okay to side-eye the fact that your husband has tentacles that could be used during fun times.

I did like the connection at the end and how communication saved the day. SEE?! Communication can even happen between a human and a Kraken Man. No excuses. But yeah, I liked the ending for this one more than book one, simply because it wasn't drawn out.

I felt really bad for the FMC and how the MMC had to overcome his grief to move forward in his life. She has had a very tragic life (as is alluded to in the beginning and can be seen in her actions throughout the novella).

Overall, this was a short and kinky story that had some spicy spice and had a very interesting dynamic. I think if this had been a bit longer and the characters were a bit more rounded, this would have been a better story.

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306. Burden Falls by Kat Ellis--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I honestly didn't know what to expect from BURDEN FALLS. At some point, I was convinced it was a vampire story--look, an Apple and Blood? Definitely TWILIGHT coded.

But no, this is a mystery with a haunting mystery, a creepy set of deaths, and a family torn apart by loss. Though it took me a bit to get into this story, I was curious throughout the whole thing and really enjoyed that twist.

I have to give props to Kat Ellis for setting such a great atmosphere. It was described so well that I could see it perfectly in my mind and I imagined myself walking through dying apple orchards, trying to figure out who keeps killing the people who've affected the MC's life in one way or another.

I will say, however, that the romance was a bit expected and predictable. But I wasn't really here for that romance, more for the mystery. BURDEN FALLS was the kind of book that I think would have been fine without the romance. BUT with that being said, I liked that neither of the characters lost themselves to their relationship.

The whole story led up to an explosive reveal and some great scary times along the way, with some pretty haunting descriptions. Definitely a great read for the Fall, especially if you're visiting an apple orchard in a small, haunted town.

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307. Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TW: Suicide Ideation, Description of SA, Threatened Gun Violence, Depression, Parental Abandonment.

I think if you liked THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, or if you empathized with Holden Caufield, you'll empathize more with this MC and his thought process. One of the things I don't think I'll ever understand about the hate CATCHER gets is that Holden is insufferable. He may be a tough pill to swallow, but that kid was extremely traumatized and in desperate need of therapy.

Much like Holden, this MC is in a very dark place. Everything he does is a cry for help--from his need to be a quiet observer just to not feel lonely, to trying to find a connection in a horrible and misguided way, this MC was on a downward spiral and the person who should have noticed the most was too self-involved to be a parent to him.

I did like, however, that despite the darker moments and the commitment to the coming end, there WERE characters who noticed the MC's mindset. They saw the signs and while the MC would set near-impossible goals for those around him to meet, he missed all of the other signs that people DID notice.

My problem when I read books like this is that I empathize so much with the MC that I almost fall into their mindset--I feel their annoyances, their frustrations, and their feelings of being misunderstood. With this MC, his mind was a very dark place to be in. While there WERE signs of others noticing his mental state, there were also signs that no one noticed. I could see how the MC might have reached this point.

I remember reading somewhere that although everyone's struggle is different, it doesn't change how giant someone's struggle still feels. The world is chaos and there are multitudes of people living truly traumatizing lives, but to a teenager, the end of the world truly DOES feel like the end of the world. This MC may have been rich and may have had freedoms that others his age never had, but his trauma and loneliness, and lack of guidance in his messy world led up to this suicidal and pivotal moment.

By the end of the book, there is little hope. BUT this is also a realistic take because mental health is an ongoing fight for the rest of one's life--especially for a teenager. Every day is a different day and you never know what might come. While the ending isn't the best, it is sadly realistic.

The topic of the gun in this book and how he mentally uses it as a way to get through his day (by quietly threatening the students around him) is a very real problem right now--especially with the school shootings--but I think it's easy to focus on those moments of the story and bypass the SA that he suffers at a young age, which essentially changed him completely.

This book isn't an easy read. It can even be incredibly triggering. But I also think it can be very important. It shows that you never really know what that person beside you is thinking, feeling, or experiencing.

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308. Hope & Other Punchlines by Julie Buxbaum--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I went through a phase a few years ago where I read a few of Buxbaum's works because they were the type of YA contemporary that had me hooked. While HOPE & OTHER PUNCHLINES had a lot of those things, I think I read this too far after I purchased it. There were certain things in here that made me give this book side eye, but it's fine. Everything is fine.

One of the things that this book definitely had going for it was the very unique approach to 9/11. And let be super clear here: when I read this, I had no idea it was about 9/11, so starting it on that same date 23 years later was not planned.

I think one of the questions a lot of people ask themselves is: Where were you when 9/11 happened? I remember I was in grade 6, hearing about it happening. I remember seeing all of the parents picking us up in a panic, thinking that Canadian schools would be next (which like...why?) and I remember my dad being very worried. And then I remember writing letters to...who? I don't know, but it's very clear in my mind that we wrote letters.

Anyway, I digress. This was such a unique take on the topic. I never even thought about what life must have been like for survivors so many years after the tragedy. Which seems callous, but I was twelve and it has become one of those things in our history that is a fact. But we're sadly at the point where we don't even do a moment of silence anymore. The human consciousness is...sometimes depressing like that.

Man, I am going off base a lot.

The romance in this book was...questionable. The connections between the two characters starts as blackmail, which was very off-putting and icky. Despite that beginning, I liked the characters and parents.

The MMC trying to find out what happened to his dad was honestly heartbreaking. I can't even imagine having that "what if" as such a big part of your identity. I think that was one of my favourite sad moments of this book--him trying to figure out this mystery, while also navigating the complicated relationships around him.

The FMC is one of those characters that had the best intentions, but made not so great choices. I did like that she was empathetic and still carved out her identity despite what the world expected of her.

If you're thinking of reading this, keep in mind that it does explore topics about loss, family, 9/11 and its after effects--such as the health side-effects so many people experienced years later.

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309. Last One to Die by Cynthia Murphy--⭐️⭐️

Meh.

this book was a blur, but not in a good way. This felt like it needed...more? Why do I care for these characters that are introduced before becoming the victims of the killer?

What was that twist? I know it had been alluded to throughout the book, but I never truly expected it. In a weird way, I would have preferred the very cliched twist.

I do think this book had a lot of potential. There were so many things that could have been done and the way everything came to light at the end would have been really great if it hadn't all been revealed at once. My main issue with LAST ONE TO DIE was that it felt under developed. Like the author was given this book as an assignment and they followed the bare minimum. Give me a more rounded character, give me a reason to care for these victims that we literally JUST met.

And seriously, I know we got an "answer" at the end, but WHY was this killer so obsessed with the MC? It was all just so flat.

I didn't make this one star because there was a lot of potential here. And I was so excited to have found this author because I love YA horror/thrillers. I have already DNFed one other book by this author.

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310. Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I had to really suspend my disbelief for this one LOL.

RUTHLESS CREATURES had a spicy and intriguing mystery throughout, but I was stuck on how quickly these two connected, especially when he is this cold and murderous human. I guess there are people out there that can tame the bad boy with their long black hair and curves. Imagine the POWER.

Anyway, I'm glad these two got to live their sexiest best lives.

This was spicy and fun and full of moments that had me giggling. This was the perfect read after reading a few heavier YA novels. I knew from the moment I started it that I was going to enjoy it for what it was. Do I agree with how fast it happened and how she just completely disregards that he's a murderer? Absolutely not. But you know, Fiction™️.

I won't lie, I'm excited to read book two. I LOVED her best friend. She's got the type of personality that would stick with you through life and death. I want to see her fall in love because she's so adamant that it doesn't exist for her. I just know that book is going to have a lot of personality. I also know it'll be hilarious and spicy af.

Anyway, I somehow read the fourth book in this series without realizing it. So, at least I know I've already enjoyed some aspect of this series. Glad I gave this one a shot!

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311. Spanking Shakespeare by Jake Wizner & Richard Ewing (Illustrator)--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'm going to be 100% honest with this one: I almost DNF'ed SPANKING SHAKESPEARE. I came so close to not finishing this book, mainly because it was...a lot. The MC is your typical seventeen year-old horny boy and his POV took some time to get used to.

But, I'm glad I kept going because he had some good character growth throughout the story, leading up to a pretty good ending.

And while some of the humour was truly teen boy cringe, there were some genuinely funny moments. A good chunk of the events in this book are told as writing projects by the MC and I liked those retellings more than the actual out of character writing. Despite the cringe honesty, I appreciated the humour in this book. I especially laughed at that last story told in the book.

I also liked how the MC learned about others' experiences in comparison to his own. While his parents definitely do questionable stuff, he learns that there are some kids who would love to have parents like his.

I think this book would have been a very relatable source for teen boys maybe a decade or two ago. There were some pretty important topics discussed and some great moments of self-discoveries that a teen boy might appreciate.

If you want to read this because of that title, expect the humour that comes naturally with that title. But also be prepared for the cringe moments that can only come from a very honest point of view of a horny seventeen year old boy.

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312. To Be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TO BE TAUGHT, IF FORTUNATE is my third Becky Chambers novella and much like the other two I've read, this one does such a great job of exploring humanity. We see it in the decisions the characters make when certain truths come to light, and when they interact to creatures that aren't from Earth.

But in a way, Chamber's novel also reminded me how small we really are in the universe. All that keeps these astronauts connected to their Earthly humanity is a delayed radio signal. I can't even imagine how lonely it must be to know that you're so far away that the people you know would be dead by the time you arrive back home.

I think this book is also a hopeful story of how humanity might treat the world beyond Earth. Preserving life, rather than conquering it? What a concept.

Overall, there is a good and interesting exploration of grief that weighs heavily over the crew. They each, in turn, experience a moment where they disconnect to process the losses they're finally coming to terms with. Even when explaining what the process of goodbye looks like before the mission, the MC keeps it partially private. Grief is a human emotion, but it is sometimes felt better in the dark, even if that could potentially lead to suicidal ideation (in the case of this book)--which is where we see that teamwork come into effect.

By the end, there is this sense of hope but also sadness that permeates the book. A sad hopefulness for a future meant to be lived beyond the story. And that's the beauty of a Becky Chambers book--she'll have you for a moment, but her writing will linger for a while afterward.

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Happy reading!

[welcome-to-oslov]

Re Tilrey coming out of everything okay, or not, or a mix (def a mix!)

I think he definitely had a turbulent 20s - mid 30s. Which is completely natural for someone coming out of the trauma he did. You have lots of things that keep coming up for you at those ages.

His long relationship with Gersha (which I still feel he wasn't in 100% freely in its first go-around). His traumatic breakup - which was entirely genuine (that sweet scene of him rushing out to the hallway to cry while watching Gersha (no longer speaking to him) giving a speech they'd worked on together 😢). Briefly dealing with the "what now" prospect of needing to start an entirely new life, all alone in the Laborer dorm knowing no one.

The trauma he felt from becoming a father, with zero agency in it. The way Upstarts & Councillors still kept treating him, gazing at him, throwing descriptions of his sexuality & his rapes in his face whether for titillation or to hurt him (which hurt him & made him uncomfortable either way). The difficulty & trauma & ultimately success at building back his ability to stand up for himself (which he'd had with Malsha but lost during the AKOB timeline we're in now). The Trips to Thurskein & Harbour being significant parts of that strengthening.

By his late 30s/early 40s things had settled in a little more for him, and building his behind-the-scenes career so well and the self-esteem, purpose, and fulfillment that created in him was a big help. He's still quiet when he shouldn't be holding things in so much alone, and "holding himself still", and not healed - but evolved into a new phase of dealing.

TL;DR: I just love him!

❤️❤️ That makes me happy because of course I shamelessly love him too. ☺️ And yes, he really has evolved! Gersha didn’t “save” him, but the situation did eventually make it possible for Tilrey to thrive. I hesitate to say “save himself,” because there’s no salvation/damnation binary here, for sure. Just a gradual reclaiming and coping and adaptation process.

I was just thinking about this because I saw a thread about the book A Little Life and how it’s basically whump (which I agree with). I feel like maybe I should have loved that book, but the wall-to-wall hopelessness and the downward spiral were too much for me. I wanted Jude to have more agency, to claim the agency he had access to, though I do understand how depression pulls a person downward. So I guess that’s why I wrote these stories this way—to give Tilrey a more positive evolution, without pretending that it’s a straight or easy upward trajectory.

[elvenbeard]

Pier Selfies

Johnny's death's anniversary feels particularly heavy that year, so much so that Kerry had planned to just not get up at all. Unless to get even more drunk maybe. Then V swings by, as if he’d known in what state to find him… But instead of joining him in bed (not cool) he drags him outside where it's bright and warm and loud and everyone's so fucking happy... it sucks.

V is thankfully not forcing him to pretend that it's a day like any other, neither is he offering unwanted advice. In fact he's just... there. With him. Occasionally taking his hand, or maybe even just lacing their pinky fingers. Leaning against him, gently nudging into him when they walk side-by-side. They barely talk all day, really. Not a single “are you okay?”, thankfully, that might have made him drive back home instantly. Just occasionally something inconsequential like “do you want to grab food over there?” and that would be the end of it when Kerry says he isn’t hungry. Every single time something comes up that would have normally tempted him to just snap back, get mad… all his anger is diffused the same moment.

It’s strange, it’s different… It takes him all day, but eventually Kerry realizes V might be the only person to really understand just how much this still hurt. Probably much better than anyone before ever did.

He disappears briefly to grab something to drink for himself, leaving Kerry to think and smoke and stare into the void for a few minutes. And he hates to admit it… but the sea breeze, the sun, it does feel good. He does feel a little better than he did this morning, did yesterday, did all week before really.

Suddenly there's a slight clicking noise not far behind him. He’d heard V coming back, so familiar the way he walked by now, confident and with a little swagger, the sound of his boots on the pavement unmistakable.

"The hell are ya doing?" he turns around, not angry, but confused.

"Sorry," V says, smiling sheepishly, "You looked so pretty in the sun, I couldn't resist."

"Pretty pathetic, you mean?" Kerry mutters as V joins him by the railing. He just doesn't seem to manage a single kind word today, not towards V or to himself, and that just increases his frustration. He wonders how the fuck V just manages to stay so calm about it, sipping his NiCola. He would have blown a fuse by now.

"Nothing pathetic about missing your best friend," is V's reply eventually, sober and quiet. Fuck. Yes, he does understand.

Kerry huffs, puts his cigarette out, and then forces himself to relax his shoulders.

"Lemme see," he says and V shows him the pics he took. He can't help but smile at V's mischievous grin in one of them, right after he noticed him.

"You're such a gonk," he chuckles.

"And I almost got away with it," V says proudly, leaning against the railing, letting his head fall back, soda can still in hand, eyes closed and basking in the sun. Kerry catches himself staring at his pulse point, right next to the gleaming silver lines of his cyberware, his dark tattoos moving over his muscles...

“Yeah, you almost did,” he says quietly, and his thoughts begin to spiral downwards again. V’s eyes blink open, and he straightens up, but says nothing for a couple of moments. Then he pulls out his phone again.

“Come on, look at us! I think together we could take some preem ones. ‘bout time we add some good memories to the day.”

Not replace, or erase. Add some new ones. If he wasn’t so numb still, he might have started bawling right then and there.

“Fuck, like some teens on their first date?” Kerry moans, as always excelling at not letting his inner workings show too much all at once.

V turns to him with a smirk, phone already in position above their heads.

“What? Scared you’re out of practice, millennial?”

“Oh, I’ll show you who’s out of practice, kid,” Kerry says, pulling V closer.

Yes, maybe they were both just pretending that everything was going to be alright, on a day like this. But maybe a little bit of pretending was the key to somehow making it through it all.

-------

I just went and took a ton of screenshots the other day with no real purpose other than "cute couple selfies polaroid-style, yay!". But as I was going through them to pick some faves for editing and arranging, I felt like maybe there is a story to this after all...

bonus of my favourite out of the whole set, because I can literally hear and see them moving here, like... Kerry fixing his hair cause it's fuckin wimdy and Vince just being a massive gonk commenting on it or something else, probably just taking this pic on accident. Didn't think jojo's bizarre photomode idles could make for such a good moment XD

[tinylittledeergirl]

You can read the first chapter of my story, Promise, here!! The rest of the story is on wattpad. It’s still ongoing, and I’ve published up to chapter five!! My username on wattpad is Cutewith0braincells. Hope you enjoy!!

March, 1994

The flashing lights and shouting voices seemed to fall into some deep, grey void in which they were the only things that remained. Or perhaps that's all he remembered since his face was promptly shoved into his mother's side as soon as they arrived upon the scene.

An unmoving body lay on a covered stretcher and a motorcycle lay on the ground a few feet away, crumpled like aluminum foil.

Theodore tried to quietly peek his head just a little, just to get a better understanding of what had happened, but he heard his mother's quiet and tearful mutterings of "don't look at it, Theo."

He looked out just long enough to catch his father's face as he watched them unzip a fragment of the body bag to reveal Theo's brother, bloody and cold.

At some point, as Theo had turned his head towards the scene he heard one of the medics carefully explaining that his death was caused when his vehicle flipped forwards, and his head had hit the pavement.

His father returned from the scene in front of them to cradle his family.

Nobody ever really knew where Tristan went, and nobody really worried over it either. Even Theo's mother and father had given up thinking about it, so Tristan did what he wanted, whether it be sneaking out or skipping school or buying a motorcycle and driving it as recklessly as he pleased. There was a silent recognition that everyone agreed on that one day Tristan would just leave and not come back and that fact was inevitable. Now that his dead body was right in front of them, they began to wonder if they were wrong and it was very easy to change the outcome this entire time.

Theo's parents whispered quiet promises to each other that they would do better this time. They both held their son a little tighter when they made those promises. Theo didn't really know what they meant by that, but he knew that he had to be better too. For his parents. He then quietly peeked at Tristan as they wheeled him away. Theo had to be better for him too.

He sat there, his backpack on his lap with his phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Theo. It's Chris. From college, you know. I know we haven't talked in... years, but I heard from an old friend about how you're doin'. I wanted to say I'm sorry. That's awful, but I'm in New York, and I've got a guest room. Not trying to make it seem like charity or anything, but if you don't have a place, the invitation is open. Call me back if you're willing to stay here, and we can work something out."

Theo had very few memories of college and all that came before it. He knew that he was happier than he was now. Chris was, at one point, a very close friend to Theo. The downward spiral that began at age nineteen had eventually led him to homelessness on the streets of Chicago after he lost his job a little over a year ago, and he lacked any motivation to get another. The city he had moved to so many years ago that held so many promises and opportunities. That same city was now grey and empty. Anything important that he owned was stored in the book-bag that he held in his lap, and he had probably worn the same thick coat for a week straight. The cold bench on the sidewalk made it hard to believe that there was a time when his life was warm and forgiving. He had tried desperately for many years to remember where that life had shattered, and how he could put the pieces back together, but it never worked. No matter how many times he fixed every bad decision in his mind, he realized that he was always going to end up here.

He stared at his phone for a few minutes after the message had finished, his eyes not moving for a second. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, as his vision began to shift and blur the longer he stared at the unmoving screen, contemplating whether or not he should even respond, and what he could possibly say to something like that if he did. It went black a couple of times before he clicked it back on just to stare at the screen some more. He picked up his things and stood up, not sure where he was headed.

May, 1994

"Oh, you have a son?" Cecilia asked, car keys dangling from her finger. Her accent was the thickest the other had ever heard. She had inly moved from Italy with the past few months and she had only spoken to Neoma once in her short time at the office. It seemed like the first sunny day in a very long time.

Neoma smiled and nodded. "Theodore. He's seven," she explained. "He's been having a hard time. He's always been quiet, but he's hardly been talking at all recently."

Cecilia slowly nodded her head to affirm that she was listening. "Something happened?"

"Mhm. His brother passed just a few months ago. He was a lot older." She looked at the ground with one hand on her hip.

"Oh, so sorry," she tilted her head in concern. "They were close?"

Neoma shook her head slightly. "Not really, no. Their age difference sort of stopped that, and Tristan was never really home to see Theo, so they didn't know each other very well." She waved her hands in the air to shoo her thoughts. "Sorry about all that, I didn't mean to... anyways. Do you have kids?"

Cecilia nodded. "I have a daughter. She's a... loud girl, but not very good with English yet. Genevra. Almost seven years old. She doesn't have friends in America yet. All her family is in Italy."

Neoma smiled. "She sounds sweet," she mentioned, slowly stepping towards her car. She opened her door and stopped for just a moment. "Cecilia?"

Cecilia perked up for a moment and looked at Neoma, signaling for her to go on.

"Maybe we could get them to meet up? If you're not okay with that, that's fine. But I think it'd be good for Theo to make a friend."

Cecilia shrugged to herself. "I don't mind. Gena can be hard to get along with, but you can try."

"Okay. We'll set something up, then. See you tomorrow." Neoma waved as she got in her car and pulled out of her parking space.

Gena was a little surprised to find that she was going to meet a strange American boy, and even more surprised to find that he didn't want to speak to her, even after she so politely greeted him.

"Mamma, non sta parlando," she said, turning towards her mother and looking at her with very serious and disappointed eyes.

Her mother firmly grasped her arm and crouched to her level, leaning in towards her ear. "Genevra, smettila."

Gena pulled her arm from her mother's hand and took a step forward. "Perché sei arrabbiato? Lo non ho fatto niente." She proceeded towards Theo, who stood with his head down and hands in his pockets. "My name is Gena," she introduced. "Yours?"

Theo lifted his head and looked at her. "Theodore," he said before putting his head back down.

"Okay," she said, taking his hand and pointing to the other side of the park. "There." Gena pulled him along, sitting down in the grass beside him. She had led him to some shady spot under a tree, away from the heat of the sun, beginning to transition from a mild spring to a very hot summer.

He plucked up little pieces of grass and tossed them back to the ground as he listened to her tell stories, half of which he couldn't understand. He found himself laughing when she did nonetheless. She spoke with so much young confidence that he felt like he knew what she was saying.

Most memories of Theo's life before college centered around Gena. There were times when remembering her caused him this guilty, aching feeling for reasons he couldn't remember. This feeling was typically followed by the familiar, eerie words in his head. Word's that didn't sound like his own voice.

"You had everything. What did you do with it?"

He ignored that relentless voice, no matter how it always echoed in the back of his head.

"You had everything. What did you do with it?"

The only face that Theo could ever put with this voice was Tristan's. He could never remember actually looking at his brother face-to-face. Every image of Tristan that Theo had crafted in his head was solely off of the pictures around his parents' house growing up. The voice that he had made up was entirely from his own mind. There wasn't a single instance where Theo could recall his brother's voice, and there weren't any recordings of him speaking. All he knew was that this voice wasn't his own, and that Tristan was certainly watching him right now. He was watching when Theo ruined his own life after Tristan had died for him to have everything growing up. He was watching Theo give up everything for nothing at all.

Hours passed until he finally responded to Chris's message.

"Hey. I don't really know how to respond to that kinda thing, but thank you, and I think I'll take you up on your offer. Won't bother you or anything; I'll just be there to sleep at night and nothing else."

[shipcestuous]

One time I had the weirdest (and most ridiculously detailed!) incest-related dream. It was about a fictional anime, and while it's all kinda blurry now, I remember dreaming up the plot of a couple of episodes. I'd like to preface this ask with a big fat TW because the anime itself was kind of... old school in a sense, with ecchi-like jokes and gags that were handled in a very lighthearted way but objectively would have had to be treated as molestation of a teen girl in any more serious work.

Basically, the anime was about this high school student who was also a magical girl heroine. She had to balance her school life and friends with her secret identity while fighting a mysterious supernatural Big Bad and their lackeys as well as more mundane criminal. So far, so normal, right? But the twist was the her sidekick was her father, who didn't have any powers but drove her around to wherever she needed to be to fight evil and took care of her injuries after her battles.

Except... the dad was young, kind of DILF-y, and both a goofball and a total pervert. He perved on his daughter both in her magical girl/crimefighter persona (cheering whenever he got to see a panty shot during a fight thanks to the skimpy frilly outfit she naturally got during her transformation sequence, roping her into infiltrating some crime syndicate's hideout by masquerading as an exotic dancer) and in her civilian identity (trying to get her to wear a maid outfit while doing her chores around the house, gleefully suggesting he should spank her when the stress of trying to figure out what the Big Bad's goal actually was caused her to have a a bit of an attitude).

The daughter was understandably weirded out and embarrassed by his behavior, but it was played less in a "her dad is a creep and she should try to get away from him asap" and more like she thought he was a cringy loser who frustratingly insisted on behaving like an irresponsible kid. There was plenty of slapstick humor where she punched him in the face or hit him with over the head with whatever was at hand to get him to leave her alone, but also a lot of times where she just made comments like "ugh, Dad, I shouldn't be the mature person in this house" or "stop being a gross old man, we're in public!" She didn't think much of her father's attraction to her, but it seemed to be mostly because she wanted to date boys her age with whom to do cute teenage romance stuff.

Obviously, the dad was extremely jealous of any boy who showed an interest in her, but he showed it less by being openly hostile to them and more by getting extra handsy and possessive around them to weird them out and turn them off the idea of dating her and dealing with more of that, or even by tricking them into appearing even more perverted than him. At least until she met a shy, quiet boy who was supposed to be her endgame love interest, who surprisingly took it all in stride, blushing a lot but being very polite to him and still very affectionate towards the daughter at the end of the day.

Eventually, a flashback from the point of view of the dad was shown and it turned out he was a widower and his wife had died when the daughter was a baby. Grief had thrown him into a downwards spiral, not helped by the fact that, because he and the wife had married very young and against the will of their families, they were struggling economically. But taking care of the daughter had become the one light in his life and he had resolved to fight against his despair, get his act together and give her the life he'd been unable to give her mother. Through the years, his feelings had turned into outright adoration, and while the daughter was growing up from an adorable child into a smart, determined, responsible teenage girl, into romantic love. And eventually, when her body started developing, also into physical attraction. He had initially decided not to act on any of it... but his feelings were just too strong to repress them or ignore them, so he decided it would be easier to deal only with the sexual side of things, because he could deal with his daughter refusing him over and over again when it came to that but he feared he wouldn't be strong enough to stand her telling him she'd never love him the same way.

Unfortunately, I don't remember how the story ended after that. But I like to think the dad would have eventually had to have an open conversation about his feelings with his daughter and that, no matter her response, they would have been okay somehow.

Wow, that's so detailed!

It was so easy for me to picture it as an old anime.

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

I decided that the future looked too bleak for the Starstrike incident au, so here's so fluff as I work on the pain. Then, it's a downward spiral from here

Kade wasn't expecting to scare them.

He had just wanted to say hi, that's all.

He took a left and found the staircase hidden in a corner, the Not An Exit sign. The only indicator class 2 of the Rescue Bots Academy was even there. Kade thought it was odd that the children were always so quiet when they were brought into town. No one ever tried to sneak away or talk to anyone outside their minders, and the occasional hushed whisper to the bot next to them.

Kade brought a duffle bag with a few big stuffed toys in vacuum sealed bag inside it. He knew they didn't have much, and class 1 seemed to like having something to hold when studying. Kade ended up so wrapped up in what he might have to say to get them to understand what the toy's were, that he forgot to be careful, swinging open the hydraulic assisted door with a carefree push.

Kade immediately felt at least six pairs of piercing eyes cut through the common room, pining him to where he stood.

This wasn't class 1.

They were scared of him.

Kade took the bag off his shoulder, not looking away as the young bots shook off the urge to freeze for dropping whatever they were doing and staring a Kade. At least two of them looked about ready to bolt.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't think this through, waltzing into your safe space without knocking or at least talking with Heatwave first. I'm Kade, I am a firefighter who has worked on the island for almost ten years. I moved away to train more human firefighters, and when I heard you guys have been through a lot, and you aren't the first set of kids I have known that's lost everything, so, I had some bot friends of mine make you something to hold onto. They are in bags currently, and they will fluff up once you take them out. They are very durable and soft. I am gonna go now, I can see that I am making you guys uncomfortable. Again, I am so, so sorry forehat happened. See you around." Kade left, closing the door behind him softly.

Starstrike grabbed a book off the coffee table and poked the bag. When it wasn't, in fact, a hidden grenade, she opened it up and took out flattened, clear plastic wrapped packages, the contents a pastel rainbow, with a few different tans thrown in there. She opened the first one, finding a yellow bunny, its fur softer than anything she had felt before. She hugged it, then remembered not only her doll, but the other students. She dragged the bag over, a nagging feeling in her spark whispering that the bag could still explode, still infect, still -

The bunny was big enough that she could unpick the seam on its belly and have a romper for when winter comes.

A little, ancient part of Starstrike hated the inevitable change of seasons.

Then, keeping her baby the doll warm will be more and more tiresome. Is that what they wanted? Her to be so busy with her baby school that she couldn't argue or help her flock?

It was working.

Now, the rest of the week will be devoted to stealing thread and hiding removed fluff.

At least her flock family was happy.