#and then I kind of mentally went down a spiral of other Choices I don’t love

[whenthegoldrays]

sigh

[shysublimecoffee]

Marinette receiving the Ladybug mantle was an absolute mistake. I watched the special, and honestly, gurl is doing the most—and for what? A guy? One dude, and she’s ready to throw her common sense out the window. Like, how has Hawkmoth/Gabriel not used his own son more often as leverage against her by now? That’s villainy 101, and he’s just sitting on it. Like for the amount of times I've seen this show rag on ChatNoir because of his weakness in romance when that Ladybug biggest weakness not CN lol.

At this point, I don’t even care about what Marinette’s going through. Whatever emotional investment I had in her? Long gone. She’s out here spinning lies on top of lies, desperately trying to hold together her crumbling Adrien-obsessed empire, and for what? She lost. Game over.

Now, if this were a story about a girl slowly getting corrupted, spiraling into villainy, and intentionally written as a downfall arc? No problem. That would’ve been a compelling narrative with a real lesson for kids about the consequences of obsession and dishonesty. But nope, instead we’re stuck with this mess where her choices make it harder and harder to root for her.

Marinette's speech at the press conference—“Ladybug holds the truth, she holds the truth” —had me scratching my head cause it sound more like a villain then a hero. Like, did the writers forget she’s supposed to have hero-like qualities? She’s meant to be the messenger, the symbol of hope, the hero. But how often does she actually display that in her own show?

Lately, it feels like being Ladybug is more of an obligatory chore for her than something that brings her real joy or fulfillment. Isn’t the whole point of magical girls to inspire, to help others, and to grow through their journey? Where’s the sense of accomplishment, the spark, the joy of making a difference? It’s like they’ve stripped her of everything that should make her role uplifting and meaningful.

I've seen here and there about how MC was never meant to come off that way or the writers are trying to make her more complex or how dare you do you dislike complex female characters or the most used it was never her intention to come off that way it was a mistake.

I want you to picture this without the music just dialogue cause i'm going to be clearcut about this.

Ladybug went to an orphaned, grieving child—one who had been locked away in solitary confinement, surrounded by nothing but white walls and being sensory deprived—and lied to him about his father being a hero. Let that sink in. Gabriel, who systematically abused his own son, was painted as a noble martyr by Ladybug.

Adrien, a kid who was finally starting to question his father’s authority, even beginning to tear down the oppressive image of the man who controlled and hurt him, is now trapped in an even tighter mental cage. After all, if Paris sees his father as a hero, a savior, how could he possibly feel justified in blaming or resenting the man? Gabriel is now a martyr in the eyes of the world, and Adrien is left to wrestle with guilt and shame for ever having cruel thoughts about someone everyone else idolizes.

Ladybug’s decision to perpetuate this lie doesn’t just protect Gabriel’s image—it messes with Adrien’s already fragile mind. Instead of helping him heal or giving him the freedom to process the truth, she’s reinforced the very chains Gabriel used to control him. It’s not heroic; it’s delusional and harmful, all in the name of preserving some twisted version of peace in her head.

You want me to feel pity for a girl who I'm sorry if I sound harsh to yall at the end of the day just want to keep the peace to fill her delusions that everything is going to work out in her part at the end when really she's just the worst type of coward there is when it comes to confrontations lmao. Accountability? She avoids them like they’re some kind of plague. It’s almost impressive how someone can masquerade as a hero while being utterly incapable of facing the hard truths. Lmao, sure, let’s all pity her.

Honestly, in the earlier seasons, at least Marinette seemed to feel bad about her mistakes. Now? She’s only gotten worse. I headcanon that receiving the Ladybug mantle or becoming the Guardian inflated her ego, giving her a power trip. With no proper mentor to hold her accountable and everyone automatically deferring to her leadership, who’s left to challenge her? Well maybe CN if he has the guts to do so but he'd rather cower into his shell lol.

In hindsight, I don’t think Marinette should’ve become Ladybug—not because she lacks the capability, but because the role itself seems to have worsened her as a person. Instead of growing into the hero I though she was meant to be, she’s devolved, losing some of the humility and self-awareness she had at the start of the series.

Let’s be real—we’re in Season 6 now, and we all know the writers aren’t going to make Marinette face any real consequences. The whole universe bends over backward to accommodate her. If you’ve seen Season 5, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

That said, I’ll give credit where it’s due: the special was fun. Yes, despite all my ranting, I actually enjoyed it because it was funny in its own way.

At this point, though, I’m only sticking around for Adrien and Lila. Honestly? I’m rooting for Lila to be the one to drop the truth bomb and expose everything. It would be chef’s kiss poetic if she ended up being the one to set things straight. Lmao.

P.s For anyone who thinks there is a dilemma to be had about the whole thing its really not lol rip the bandaid off.

It reeks of a megalomaniac in the making, making her come off like a gaslighting psychopath. Ironically, it reminds me of Gabriel—especially with the way he used similar wording. Honestly, are we sure Marinette isn’t Gabriel’s true daughter? Because the parallels are man.

I’m genuinely angry that she is the one everyone feels sorry for, and it’s only because the show is stuck in her perspective. If we spent even a fraction of the screen time on Adrien’s pain, it would make for a far more compelling story. It’s infuriating. Marinette isn’t some helpless sheep/damsel victim here—no one forced her into this role at gunpoint. She made her choices, knowingly and willingly. How dare she act like the weight of the world was thrust upon her without her consent? When she very much messed with a grieving kid here?

And yet, Adrien’s pain—real, tangible, and far more tragic—is constantly sidelined. He’s an orphan, being lied to by nearly everyone around him, adults and teens alike, and his suffering is treated as a subplot to Marinette’s endless drama. Why should the audience feel more for her than for the boy who’s lost everything? Why is his pain has to be centered to her??

This isn't a small mistake this has far reaching consequences if the show had the balls to do it to lie to the entire world over a man who terrorized on people fear.

If Adrien ever became a villain, I wouldn’t blame him. In fact, I’d understand and give him the free ticket to go ahead and cataclysm and burned the world .

[gcldenhecrts]

(RUDY PANKOW, CIS MALE, HE / HIM) Oh, is that FREDDIE PARKER? I heard the 24 year old is LOYAL. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also IMPULSIVE.Makes sense seeing how they have a MEMBER in the GHOST RIDERS gang. (charlotte, 26, she / her, gmt )

‘ he will sometimes send you funny emails. He prefers spaghetti over penne. Have you seen my son? Have you seen my beautiful boy? Tell him I miss him’

TW: HEAVY DRUG ABUSE, PARENTAL & SIBLING DEATH, MENTAL HEALTH.

- Freddie was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His parents came from nothing, but all they wanted was a home and a family, and they were willing to work and struggle to ensure their children never went without in the way they had.

- Freddie’s earliest memories were of his mother leaving for work at 3.30 am and arriving back in the early evenings. She had a look of exhaustion on her face but always pushed it aside to spend time with her Freddie and his twin sister Frankie. She never missed a family dinner or a bedtime story. She was the foundation from which Freddie became Freddie.

- the twins grew up as the best of friends. While they didn’t have money, they had something much more valuable: stable roots. Yes, they did not go to the best school, nor did they wear the best clothes, but they recognised their privilege in small ways. The kindest of children, sometimes wicked in the ways that children are, but neither were ever nasty or cruel.

- Freddie had always been a sensitive soul, and while his mother was the lighthouse that guided him home, his sister Frankie was the anchor that kept him stable amongst dangerous waters. While Freddie was gentle, kind and soft, his mind was not. From a young age, it felt like his mind was working against him like it wanted him to suffer. His sister kept him safe.

- As he became a teenager, Freddie’s mind only got louder and darker. A boy riddled with anxiety but unable to find the words to ask for help. NO, all Freddie knew to do was pour the love he had into everyone around him. He never spoke about himself, not to anyone but Frankie. To everyone else, he was the boy you could lean on. The boy whose advice was as good as his mother's, the boy who would listen and hold your hand when his mind was collapsing in on itself. The boy who overwatered flowers because he didn’t know when to stop giving.

- When he was thirteen, Freddie found a way to quiet his mind. It was a slow descent when he started using marijuana, soon joined by acid, ecstasy, mushrooms and cocaine. By the time he was nearing 16, crystal meth was his drug of choice as everything spiralled out of control. When he had tried it, he felt it was the first time he felt better about himself. All the years of underlying depression, self-doubt and crippling anxiety seemed to melt away. So he just kept doing it.

- While his friends didn’t often see the darker side of his addiction, his family did. Anger, upset, frustration. Tears and tears and tears. He wanted to get better, he wanted to make everyone around him happy, but he was making everything worse and he just couldn’t stop. He focused again on pouring love into his friends but would come home and steal from his parents. He would argue with his sister, and cry into their arms as he begged not to go back to rehab.

- Freddie spends eight years in the thick of addiction. He spends those years in a cycle of overdoses and rehab centres. 12-step programmes and sponsors he didn’t call. It took ten years for him to make it a year and a half sober. The most he had ever gone and for once, the future looked bright. A party with his closest friends, a cake to celebrate eighteen months. It was hopeful. Everything was hopeful. He joined the ghost riders at some point between rehab stint three and four. He joined because Frankie had joined, and well, they never did anything by halves.

- And then the world came crashing down. Freddie was with his best friends when the call came in. His dad was on the other line, it was the second time Freddie had ever heard him cry. The first time was when Freddie was fourteen and his dad first dropped him off at rehab. But this cry was different. It was guttural. His mother and Frankie had gotten into a car accident on the way home from a ski trip. They had died on impact. Freddie sat in his friend's living room, staring at the ceiling, his heart ripped out on the floor in front of him. He told them, but in the same sentence he said he was fine, he was okay. He offered to make everyone a cup of tea. He made sure his friends were okay. And at the end of the night, he got onto his bike and drove into a tree. A broken leg. A damaged bike. That was all.

- his mothers diary was found in her suitcase. Freddie knows he shouldn’t have, but he read it anyway. It dated back years, and he was a heavy feature across the pages.

‘ if you could take all the words in the language, it wouldn’t describe how much I love those children. And if you could gather all those words together, it still wouldn’t describe what I feel for them ’

‘I worry sometimes that this … what’s happened is my fault. I wanted to raise my beautiful boy to be kind and empathetic. I worry it’s because he’s too kind and empathetic that he turns to drugs to cope. My freddie .. he said the world is really ugly and everybody seems to be okay with it. He says everybody is out to make everybody else seem less human and he doesn’t want to be a part of it or witness it. He says that’s why he does drugs. To make this world easier to process.’

‘ he will sometimes send you funny emails. He prefers spaghetti over penne. Have you seen my son? Have you seen my beautiful boy? Tell him I miss him’

- It’s been six months since his mother and sister's death, and Freddie will still tell you he is fine. He doesn’t want to burden anyone else with his mind. He wants to be treated as he always has. He wants to just be Freddie. But he’s not Freddie, and he’s not fine. He’s not sure he ever will be again. His father does not help, so confused with grief he’s forgotten who Freddie is, living in a period of time before he was born.

[abbatoirablaze]

Ex Wive's Club, Chapter 13

Word Count:  2.3k

Warnings: sexual tension, sexual situations, angst. 

“God…wh-what am I going to do?”

Curtis frowned, looking at the broken mother who had been sitting on his couch for the past half hour.  She was almost numb as they searched through the bags of her stuff that was intermingled with trash.  She barely reacted to how Andy had mixed actual garbage in with the stuff, pouring things on it, tossing in broken items. 

It broke Curtis’ heart watching her sob as she tried to piece herself back together with what little she had left.

Sasha had spilled nearly her entire life story to him. 

From being adopted at a young age from a Russian orphanage by the first captain America, to having to learn English.  To it taking a while to learn who real friends were because people just used her because of who her father was.  And just when she thought she had settled in to the American dream, made friends who were real, and felt like she was figuring herself out, she’d met Andy. 

Yes, he was one of her best friend’s fathers.  And yes, there was a substantial age gap.  But Sasha had fallen in love with him on the spot.  As it turned out, her friend was alright with it, as the other five girls in her tight-knit friend group had crushes on each other’s fathers or step fathers.   

But even that didn’t last.  There wasn’t a fairytale ending for her when she got knocked up.  She was scared, and young, but she ended up keeping the child despite wanting to originally get an abortion.  She felt her mental health spiral downwards, until finally when she gave birth she was diagnosed with postpartum depression. 

So, she ran. 

She ditched the engagement ring and the life Andy had promised her.  While they had made a child together, Andy had been treating her with kid gloves.  The doctors all made her feel alien and foreign in her own body.  And she realized that maybe she should just be a teen. 

She went to school and got her degree, but each time she went home she realized that she wanted to be in her first home; with the man she truly loved, and their son.  She realized that she was too young to know who she was and what she really wanted at the time; but it was him. 

But he’d already moved on. 

Or so she thought. 

Things happened like a whirlwind once more and she found herself back in Andy’s arms.  Her son was so accepting of her.  It was like they were all craving one another in their lives.  They got married and had Ashley.  And it was like a kick in the stomach with how things started spiraling again. 

Old feelings came back. 

Andy became resentful all too quick. 

She went to counseling.  Therapy.  Group meetings.  She was trying, for the first time, not wanting to lose them yet again.  Because she had been in that spot, and she knew this time around that despite what she was feeling, Andy was her true north.  Her son was her true north.  And now she had her daughter to add to that.    

And yet, there she sat on his couch.  Hands cut up but freshly bandaged from going through the trash to try to piece herself back together.  Broken-hearted over her husband making the choice for her.

“You’re going to stay with me,” Curtis replied thoughtfully, sitting down on the couch.  He handed her a cup of tea, and she gave him a sad smile, still mostly in a daze over the previous hours, “I don’t mind how long it takes…I can tell that you’re an amazing woman, Sasha.  I’m not going to just let you slip back into that dark place.”

“I can’t ask that of you, Curtis.”

“You’re not asking,” he pointed out, “I’m offering up my home to you.  Me and Maritza.  You could stay with us…at least until you get in contact with your dad and figure out what to do about Andy.”

“I can’t believe the asshole froze my cards,” she muttered angrily, “it wasn’t just his money in those accounts.”

“Sometimes you can’t help how people act.”

She sighed, “you’re really too kind, Curtis…”

“I’m just me, Sasha.  I’m not anything special.”

Curtis gasped, surprised at what he’d seen at his dining room.  He had come back from dropping Maritza off with Lily and had gone grocery shopping, but in the time that he’d been gone, everything had changed.

No longer were his daughter’s toys strewn across the hall and living room, but rather, they’d been delicately placed in the cubbies that Curtis had made last spring for her them. 

The living room looked like it had been cleaned and organized, and the dining room table was very clearly visible.  Two place settings were in order, and on each a wonderful seafood pasta dish that looked like it was straight from a magazine. 

Curtis dropped the bags, shocked at how much she’d accomplished in such a little amount of time. 

Soft footfalls made their way towards the dining room, and she appeared with a bottle of white wine freshly uncorked between her bandaged hands.  Her eyes widened ever so slightly. 

Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to be back so soon.

“Curtis…”

His name coming from her lips sent a shiver down his spine, and a strong emotion overtook him.  His breath stole away.  His lips parted at how beautiful she looked in one of his knit sweaters, and a pair of her leggings.  He could faintly hear the washer, and he realized that her clothes must have been in there. 

“Sasha…” he gasped, suddenly feeling an even stronger emotion as his jeans tightened ever so slightly.  He knew that he didn’t know much about the woman in his home, but he didn’t expect such an electric response to her. 

“I-I thought I could make us dinner…” she said softly, “I mean…I know you’ve said it’s been a while since-“

“It has…” he nodded, affirming that it had been a long time since he’d had a well-prepared meal.  His eyes traveled to the table once more, and he began to feel himself drooling, “I-it looks amazing, Sash…”

She bit her lip, “I figured it was the least I could do…since I’ll be staying with you for a while.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, and then her eyes fell to the groceries that were at his feet.  She rushed to the table, putting the bottle of wine down before rushing over to him, “here…let me help…”

But Curtis promptly picked up the bags again, denying her offer, “you made dinner…I’ll get this put away and be right out…”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “positive…”

“I’ll pour the wine.”

Curtis frowned as he looked at Sasha, “I’m really sorry about dinner…I-“

“Stop,” she said quickly, her hand falling over his own.  He wanted to smile, but a frown perched itself on his lips when he looked at the bandages once more; a reminder that she was just as broken as him, “I get it.  Trust me, I do.  If Andy called me right now and said that I needed to get Michael and Ashley, I wouldn’t have even thought about it…and anyways…we can always re-heat it…”

“Might have to…” Curtis frowned.  He looked back in the rearview mirror as he put the car into park, to his daughter.  Mouthing the words, he signed in the space where the center console was, ‘food?  Hungry?’

To which Maritza squealed, acknowledging her father with a series of happy nodding, She signed ‘thank you,’ and ‘love daddy’ on repeat. 

Curtis couldn’t help but chuckle and sign, ‘love baby.’

“I take it she hasn’t had dinner either?”

Curtis turned his attention back towards Sasha.  He shook his head, instinctively signing as he spoke, “she hasn’t…”

She giggled and Curtis realized that he was signing to her.  He went to apologize, but she stopped him, “I get it…don’t even apologize because you can communicate with your child.  Does she like seafood pasta?”

“Not in the slightest,” Curtis chuckled, “but I can mak-“

“No…you deserve to relax,” Sasha replied, cutting Curtis off, “I saw some mac n cheese in the cupboards.  Does she like that, or is it yours?”

“She likes mac n cheese…it’s her favorite,” Curtis admitted, “if you make that for her, she probably will beg you to stay forever.  Lily doesn’t like her to have it.”

“If it’s a proble-“

“I said Lily doesn’t like her to have it,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “it’s Maritza’s favorite food…I’m not going to deny my baby girl of anything.”

Sasha felt her heart flutter as Curtis handed her the keys, “I’ll get started on dinner for us then?  And the little princess?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed, “I’ll get her out of her car seat and be right in.”

Curtis’s heart swelled as he watched Sasha putting his daughter to bed.  After she’d made her the mac n cheese, and tried to interact with her all through dinner, Maritza was stuck to her side like glue. 

And she didn’t seem to mind it. 

They played together while Curtis did the dishes, and though he knew he already trusted Sasha with her, he kept finding his gaze going back towards them.  His heart would fill with joy as he watched the beautiful woman with his child. 

“You know…I always hoped Lily would be like that with her…” Sasha nearly jumped ten feet into the air, clutching her heart as she looked at Curtis.  The large man chuckled, “Did I scare you?”

“You’re horrible!” she giggled, gently pushing his shoulder, “you scared me so much.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, a blush finding its way to his cheeks, “sometimes you forget how much sound affects people with normal hearing.”

“You know…even without it, she’s so curious…so interested in the world,” Sasha said with wonder, “it’s like everything is new and fresh to her all the time.”

“She pays attention to everything,” Curtis admitted.  A frown overcame him when he thought about just a few minutes ago, when he caught his daughter making the love symbol and pressing it to Sasha’s chest when she tucked her in, “did you know earlier…a few minutes ago, she told you that she loved you?”

Sasha’s eyes went wide, “She-she did?”

He nodded, “yeah…funny thing about that is that she’s never even told Lily that…not once.”

Sasha frowned, suddenly feeling bad about how she’d achieved such a quick connection with the little girl, “oh…I-I’m sorry.”

“No…no.  Don’t be!” he said quickly, “she’s never told it to Lily because not once have I ever seen her take half as much interest in her as you did…and that’s her daughter.”

“Ma-maybe she’s got postpartum…” Sasha tried, offering up an answer, “When I-with Michael…”

“No…she just never loved our daughter.  I know that for a fact,” he sighed, cutting her off.  There was a pause between them for a few moments, before he continued, “don’t ever put yourself in my ex-wife’s shoes, Sasha.  You’re leagues above her.”

Sasha took a deep breath, and then she noticed just how close Curtis was to her.  She’d been all but backed up against the door, but she didn’t mind it. 

“Curtis…”

Curtis looped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against her chest, “Fuck…I really like you, Sasha…”

He could feel the heavy thrum of her heart beating, “I-I like you too, Curtis…”

“I-I want to kiss you, Sasha!” he replied, a desperate tone to his voice, “god, do I want to kiss you…”

“I want to kiss you too!” she admitted, her voice barely coming out in a whisper.

“What about Andy?”

“Is he really in the picture if he tossed my stuff and asked for a divorce?” she asked breathlessly. 

Curtis ignored the question and pinned her against the wall.  Their lips clashed in a heated frenzy, working together on an instinctual level.  Her hands slid up his chest, already feeling the muscular form of his body. 

In her head she started comparing the two men in her life.  Her husband was about 6 years older than Curtis, but they looked similar.  Same facial and bone structure.  Same type of undertone in their attitude and how they carried themselves.  But Curtis was a passionate, gentle giant, whereas Andy was a dominating force. 

She moaned against Curtis’ lips, feeling the true strength of him.  He was quick to grab onto his button up, the one that she’d been wearing all day, before tugging at the two pieces of fabric so hard that the buttons flew off of the shirt. 

She gasped, the cool air hitting her bare chest.  Curtis’ hands cupped her breasts as he broke the kiss.  He was taken aback to see her cream colored, milky flesh.  Her nipples pebbled under his touch.  His hands slid down her waist and he picked her up as though she weighed nothing.  Her hands tangled up in his short hair, her legs wrapping around his waist.  His hands tangled in her hair as well and he groaned, grinding his jean covered crotch against her thinly covered core. 

“I wanna feel you, Curtis!” she moaned gently.

“I want to feel you too!” he admitted, gasping as she circled her hips over him.  He groaned and tugged on her hair.  She moaned and pulled him back into the kiss. 

“Who the fuck are you?” a voice called, breaking the couple’s kiss, “and why are you kissing my husband?”

Curtis growled and his eyes turned dark as he looked to Lily, “how the hell did you get in?  And why are you here?”

“My question first!” she taunted, holding up the spare key, “who is your little slut?  And does she know that you’re my husband?”

“Wife?” Sasha asked.  Sasha paled, thinking of the state the two of them were in.

Her legs stayed locked around Curtis’ waist, and he used his body to shield hers from his ex-wife, “Sasha…meet Lily.  Maritza’s mother…and my ex-wife.  What the fuck are you doing here, Lily?”

Chapter 14

Tag List:  @Cjand10, @huntress-artemiss, @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @elbell20-blog

[thespoonisvictory]

i'd love a moment where someone tells wilbur that he isn't universally disliked, especially if it's one of the og l'manbergians, but i'm also not too hopeful because of how many of them feel betrayed by him (esp fundy and niki) :( on the other hand,, maybe eret could relate? or maybe that's just me wanting eret content adfgkhsd

Alright anon, you’re gonna get a whole essay here I’m so sorry, but I have so many thoughts about revived Wilbur. 

Wilbur’s self esteem was kind of a mess, but there are two primary issues he seems to struggle with the most: believing he was a horrible president/leader and that people hated him for it, and believing that he was only valuable if he could be the perfect leader everyone wanted from him. I could pull out specific quotes, but honestly Ghostbur’s entire character and the Pogtopia stream transcripts I made would do a better job. During Pogtopia, part of his concern for why Tubbo might be a spy is because he thought he did a bad job as president and that Tubbo would prefer Schlatt. 

Now, it’s easy to see why this would be a problem, as Wilbur simultaneously feels like he has to be this perfect leader and never show any flaws in order to have worth, while also feeling like he’s doing a horrible job. He felt like everyone hated him while still feeling pressured to act like everything was fine, which puts a lot of context behind his breakdown culminating in statements like “let’s be the bad guys” and “I can finally do whatever I want.” It was a mix of finally giving up on his attempt to be perfect and wanting to make everyone hate him before they had the chance to do it on their own, y’know? 

(This problem could’ve so easily been addressed if the other characters were aware, and while I don’t want to blame everything that went down in Pogtopia on “aw look at him he’s sad”, a lot might’ve been prevented if at any point a character was like “hey Wilbur you doing ok bud? take a day off.”)

In my opinion, this is why a reconciliation with Eret is so, so necessary for a redemption arc for Wilbur. It’s just so perfect that the one character who’s betrayal cut Wilbur so deeply and arguably started his spiral also happens to be the one most dedicated to preserving his history and the one who most openly admires him. It’s this neat little juxtaposition that’s made even better by the fact that Wilbur has no idea.

Eret’s betrayal clearly stuck with Wilbur, to the degree that he was the person he chose to quote, directly, for what was supposed to be his final statement. Most of the others had for the most part accepted what Eret had done and moved on, but Wilbur never did. And to his credit, I can see why. Wilbur had put full trust in Eret, and in return he had taken a canon life not only from Wilbur, but from his son and two brother figures, and nearly ended L’manburg before it even began. Most crushingly, Wilbur never got to figure out why. He never got an apology, or an explanation, just a traumatic experience and a statement that would haunt him for the rest of his life as a leader. “It was never meant to be” implies more than a mercenary betrayal, it implies that Eret personally did not see L’manburg as worth sticking with, and I think that really broke Wilbur, as he very much valued his ideals and his creations. He respected Dream and his friends at the end of the war, but for Eret to turn away from his cause and declare it not worthy to begin with was something else entirely.

Now we as the audience know that Eret feels immense guilt over the betrayal, that he respects Wilbur as a person and especially as a leader, and that he came to truly understand why L’manburg was so valuable. But Wilbur never got to hear that, and I would love for that to be the catalyst for him maybe starting to deal with some of his issues. To have someone look at the bad he’s done and say “I still respect you”, to know that he was and is valued. 

Obviously Wilbur has a lot of his own apologizing to do, but to be honest, the fact that Wilbur grew to be suicidal from all these unchecked mental health issues should probably be the primary focus, before we get into the whole “hey he kind of did some not so great things.” If Wilbur’s revival starts off with five minutes of Fundy and Tommy berating him as some people seem to want, that’s just not gonna be helpful from a guy who would probably agree with the worst they have to say about him. And I think Eret would be the perfect candidate as a person who, frankly, is in a stable enough position to help Wilbur, especially because he’d know what it was like to be hated by people he still cared about.

As for other candidates, Niki I think is another good choice. She’s been pretty open about the fact that she does still miss and care for Wilbur, and while I think there would definitely be a moment of “why did you leave me”, she would understand pretty well, especially given how she spiraled.

This got very long, but yeah. I love Eret’s character and I think if Wilbur gets redeemed he’ll definitely play a factor in it.

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stone Triplets Fic (Chapter 2)

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise

Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF

Summary: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

The last time Eliot saw Alex was when they were 16 years old. Alex had been living with Uncle Danny for 6 years at that point, so the brothers didn't have much of a relationship even then, and the reunion had been awkward and tense. Jake was the one who tried to keep them together, who talked their father into hosting Christmas that year. He was the one who'd called Alex and begged him to come home for a week. Just a week.

They'd lasted three days.

At the time Eliot had blamed Alex—immature, bull-headed Alex, whose verbal and then physical fights with their father had led to his living with Uncle Danny in the first place. If he could have just learned to keep his mouth shut, most of the fights wouldn't have happened. Eliot and Jake had learned that lesson—why couldn't Alex? He always had to have the last word, no matter what the cost.

That last visit was what finally convinced Eliot to leave home. He thought about college, but eventually decided to enlist as soon as he turned 18 (without telling their father). Jake was supposed to go with him, but he'd wanted to see Alex one more time before they left. When months went by and Alex didn't come back, Eliot left both his brothers behind.

Age had given Eliot perspective, but by the time he was ready to apologize, Jake wouldn't take his calls. Alex had already joined the DEA, and a series of undercover assignments for both of them made it impossible for Eliot to reach out. And then he got involved with Moreau, and getting in touch was no longer an option. It would have put them in too much danger, and that was one thing Eliot would never do. But after a while, even that became an excuse. After he escaped Moreau, after Nate created a team and a family for him, he let the silence continue. He'd made that choice on his own.

And now apparently Alex was in the Philippines. Permanently, according to the detective who introduced herself as Kai Mendoza. That was all she would tell him (through gritted teeth, as though Eliot had committed some unforgivable sin by asking). "We have to take care of this mess," she'd grumbled. "Then we'll take you to see Alex."

She hadn't asked if Eliot wanted to see Alex, and part of him was glad for that. If he'd been given the option, he wasn't sure he'd have said yes. It would have been easy to say that he was too busy, that he couldn't stay, that it was better for them not to meet. But now that the offer was there, Eliot couldn't turn it down. One way or another, he was going to see his brother today.

Kai and her partner Ernesto drove him and the two men they'd arrested to the police station, where Eliot was firmly told to stay in the car. Kai paused after giving the order as if waiting for him to argue, even after he nodded and promised to stay put. Apparently Alex hadn't changed much since they were kids.

While the others were inside, Eliot took a few minutes to call Hardison and update him on the job. It was just the two of them on this one, with Hardison pulling the strings from somewhere in Vietnam while Eliot worked on the ground in Cebu.

Hardison picked up on the first ring. "All done? I booked you a flight back to New Orleans on—"

"I ran into a little snag," Eliot interrupted.

"What kind of snag?"

Eliot explained most of his encounter with Kai and Ernesto, but he couldn't bring himself to include the fact that he'd been mistaken for one of his long-lost triplet brothers. Hardison knew he had siblings, but Eliot hadn't ever gone into details about them. He wasn't sure what he'd say now, and he knew Hardison would have questions. Best to leave it be. He'd give Hardison a more in-depth explanation later.

"So now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we wait and see if they can salvage the sting. If they arrest Flores, our work is done."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll let you know."

There was a pause, as if Hardison was trying to decide whether or not to voice his next thought. "Is there something else?"

Eliot sighed. He tried not to lie to Hardison or Parker, but he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Not about the job," he answered. "I'll explain later."

To his credit, Hardison didn't argue, even though he had to be burning with curiosity. "Okay. Call back when you have more to share."

"Yeah."

It was another twenty minutes before Kai and Ernesto emerged from the police station, both wearing grim expressions. They were talking as they approached the car, and Eliot caught the tail end of their conversation through the open windows.

"I didn't want to bring him in on this," Kai was saying.

Ernesto shrugged. "We don't really have a choice anymore."

"Things get messy when his family is involved. It'll only complicate things."

Interesting. Which of his relatives had already come to the island? Evidently Eliot's family had a knack for disrupting the locals.

"Ocampo's orders," Ernesto said. He opened the passenger door and slid into the car, turning to look over his shoulder at Eliot. "We'll take you to see Alex, but you're going to have to come back to the station and explain what you were doing with Flores."

Eliot crossed his arms. "Figured you'd want to know that first."

"We do," Kai said, with a frown at her partner. "You owe the delay to Alex. He's helped us out in the past, and Ernesto thinks we should tell him you're here before he finds out from someone else."

"The surprise could kill him," Ernesto said mildly.

"You just want to see his face when we show up with his doppelganger."

"Don't you?" Ernesto asked. Kai huffed and dropped into the driver's seat.

They lapsed into silence during the drive, which Eliot appreciated. His stomach had begun an uneasy churn, though he told himself it was just because of the heat. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure Eliot hadn't reached out, but neither had Alex. Neither had Jake, for that matter. Eliot had gone home once, just after he got out of the service, and found Jake had taken over the oil company. Their neighbors said that Jake was turning things around, digging out of debt and even managing a profit, and Eliot accepted the blessing and drove out of town without stopping by the house. It was enough that Jake was happy. He didn't need Eliot coming back and ruining things for him.

Kai pulled into the parking lot of another hotel, dodging groups of brightly dressed tourists as she went. "He owns the gift shop here at the resort," Ernesto explained, flashing a friendly smile over his shoulder. Kai didn't look at him as she got out of the car, but Eliot was happy to keep his silence. He trailed behind her as she led the way through the resort, winding around pools and umbrella-covered tables, slowing every few moments so Ernesto could greet someone. Apparently the friendliness wasn't an act—or else it was a very good one. But something about the man felt genuine, as if he couldn't be bothered to put up a front.

Kai, on the other hand... she was harder to read. Especially now that she wasn't giving Eliot anything to work with except the occasional glare.

Before long the bustle of the resort faded as concrete transitioned to sand beneath their feet. A small building rose ahead of them, still against the backdrop of gentle waves and lazy clouds. A soft breeze ruffled Eliot's hair, filling his lungs with salt and sunshine. He wanted to stop, to look out at the water and breathe in the sea spray and the silence, but the others kept walking.

No wonder Alex had picked this spot. If retirement was in Eliot's future, he could see himself in a place like this.

Ernesto reached the door, and Eliot took one last windswept breath to brace himself.

"You look nervous," Kai murmured.

No he didn't. He knew he didn't, because the only emotions he gave away were the ones he wanted people to see. And he was most definitely not nervous. But her eyes lingered on his, and something softened in her expression.

"Don't worry," she said, giving him a small, hesitant smile. "It'll be fine."

"Alex," Ernesto called, and Eliot's stomach gave another roll. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He tried to back away, but Kai put her hand on his arm and cut off his retreat, guiding him inside.

The gift shop was empty besides one man restocking a rack of post cards. He stood with his back to them, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He had the same build as Eliot, the same brown hair he'd have to fight to keep straight in this humidity, the same scarred hands from years of work and fighting.

"Hey!" Alex said without turning around. "Check it out, I got new cards."

Ernesto started across the room, gesturing for Eliot to follow. "How come you didn't tell us you had a twin?"

Alex looked at him. "A twin? I don't have a tw—"

His eyes fell on Eliot, and his words died. Eliot could feel Kai watching them, waiting for a reaction, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, how've you been the last 30 years? Oh, me? Well, first I was an international assassin, and now I work with a group of thieves who steal from the rich and give to the poor. I still punch people for a living though. How about you?

Something started beeping. Eliot started—no, not started, just looked around for the source—but Alex slapped his hand to his wrist and the sound stopped.

"Everything okay?" Ernesto asked. Alex made a noncommittal sound, glancing at him before returning his attention to Eliot. His eyes seemed bluer than Eliot remembered. It was probably just the lighting, but since it was the only thought that didn't spiral out of control, it was the one Eliot clung to. Blue eyes like their mother's, like the pond water in the back yard. Blue eyes that had been red with anger and hurt the last time he'd seen them.

"Which one are you?" Alex asked.

Behind him, Kai made a choking sound. Ernesto shushed her.

"But—" she sputtered. "Are there more of them?"

Eliot refocused on his brother. "You don't recognize me?"

"You both look the same," Alex deadpanned.

"Well, we're in the Philippines and I'm speaking English."

For a long moment Alex simply stared at him as if trying to read the details of their separation in his face. Then he reached out, and Eliot braced himself for the punch. He wouldn't fight back—not at first, not unless things got out of hand. He could take a hit or two, let Alex burn off some of his anger, and then try talking. They weren't 16 anymore. They could handle this like adults.

But Alex didn't hit him. His arms flashed out past Eliot's head, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "Eliot," he murmured, crushing him in a hug that drove the breath from Eliot's lungs. He didn't care. He grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and squeezed, pressing everything he couldn't voice into the embrace.

"It's good to see you," Alex said at last, gruffly. He pulled away without taking his hands from Eliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh... work."

Alex frowned at the hesitation. "What kind of work?"

Eliot sent a look over his shoulder, where Kai and Ernesto still waited. They clearly had some kind of relationship with Alex, but how far did that extend? Likely not far enough to keep from arresting Eliot for the half-dozen laws he'd broken to secure his meeting with Flores. "I'll tell you later."

"Now's as good a time as any," Kai said. "You can tell us now or at the station, whichever you prefer."

"We can give them a little longer," Ernesto argued.

"Flores is still out there. The longer we wait, the more time he has to act."

"Who's Flores?" Alex asked. He let his hands slide from Eliot's shoulders, a frown settling over his face.

Kai gave him a pointed look. "I'll tell you later."

"I think you should tell me now."

"I don't care what—"

Ernesto held his hands up, putting himself between the two of them. "Kai, we can give them a few more minutes to catch up. We'll be outside, Alex. Ten minutes." He looked at Eliot. "Then you come to the station with us. Understand?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Ten minutes. I got it."

Though Kai looked like she wanted to argue, she allowed Ernesto to guide her toward the door. "Nice friends you've got," Eliot muttered.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Alex gave a serious nod. "Yeah. They are. They're closer than some of my family."

Apparently they were going to fight after all. "I didn't know how to contact you," Eliot said.

"You're smart. You couldn't figure something out?"

"Couldn't you?" Eliot countered. "The last I heard you were undercover. Reaching out would have put you in danger."

"I'm retired now," Alex said.

"So I hear."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I did try to find you. There was a rumor going around that you'd died."

"I didn't. Well, I did once, but it didn't stick."

"How long ago was that?"

"While you were still undercover."

Alex gave a frustrated growl. "Fine. We both could have done more, alright? Just... fill me in on the case."

The case was a safe topic, so Eliot embraced the change without complaint. He gave his brother the basics as he knew them: Robert Flores was looking to set up a base to smuggle drugs to the United States. Hardison had been tracking him throughout Asia, but when business kept him in Vietnam he'd contacted Eliot about finishing the job. "Should have been simple enough," Eliot said. "Set up a meeting, figure out his weakness, take him down."

"But you weren't the only one after him," Alex said. He heaved a sigh. "How mad was Kai when you showed up?"

An involuntary smile pulled at Eliot's lips. "She thought I was you. I think she wanted to kill me more than Flores's men did."

Alex chuckled, sobering a moment later. "So this is what you do? You go after international criminals?"

"More or less."

"With who? I mean—CIA? Interpol?"

"It's kind of a freelance operation."

Alex shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a lot to explain," Eliot said. "And I will, I promise. Soon as we have the time."

"Right." Alex gave him another long look, and a small grin appeared on his face. "It's good to see you, man. It's been too long."

Eliot didn't try to stop his answering grin. "You go by Walker now?"

"You'd already taken Mom's name. Didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"Yeah, but... Walker? As in Texas Ranger?"

Alex hissed and shot a look toward the door. "Don't say it out loud, man. I've got a reputation to keep up here."

Eliot laughed, but Ernesto chose that moment to knock and peek into the gift shop, effectively ending the conversation. "You two finished?" he called.

"For now," Alex answered. "Where's Kai?"

"She went to get some coffee. She'll be back any minute."

Alex nodded. "Good. I wanna be back before the afternoon rush."

"You're not coming," Ernesto said. "I don't think Kai can handle two of you."

Eliot folded his arms. "For the record, I'm not Alex's double. If anything he's my double. I'm older."

"By eight minutes," Alex snapped.

"That's older."

Alex huffed a wordless reply, and Eliot felt a glow of something familiar in his chest. This was an argument they'd had hundreds of times—Eliot, being the oldest, started it most often when they were kids. Jake had come next, and then Alex—Baby Alex, they called him, whenever he was being annoying. Eliot was pleased to find the joke still funny.

Even better, Alex seemed to still find it annoying. Eliot couldn't say why that felt so comforting. Maybe it was just that he was thankful to see a glimpse of the old Alex, the one he'd known before they let their father and their pride get in the way of their relationship. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was relaxed enough to have this conversation in front of Ernesto. Maybe Alex had found a team the way Eliot had.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd come here after all.

[propshophannah]

Am I the only one who thought the book had a lot of sexist undertones? Like preemptively modifying your body to MAYBE one day give birth to your man's (male's) babies? I feel like the IC never tried to let Nesta heal in her own way, they just forced her to do things they thought would be good for her, while demeaning her along the way. And the shield thing around Feyre is very reminiscent of how Tamlin treated her in ACOTAR... I don't know, a lot of the book just made me uncomfortable :/

Hi Nonnie!

First, I want to say that I’m sorry parts of this book made you uncomfortable. That’s never fun. Second…

I think we can reasonably say that no matter what we’re looking at, we can find sexism if we want to. Now that doesn’t mean that some things are not just blatantly sexist. I think with this book there is a conversation to be had about what some of us read as sexist and what some of us read as not sexist or even pro different-forms-of-feminism.

It’s sort of in the eye of the beholder.

It’s also a fantasy world that has developed under a patriarchy. So some things are just as sexist as they “should be” because that’s the world building, right? 

So, like, territorial Fae males is fully explained in the world building and is therefore fully acceptable for the books, and is also, frankly, a kink. SJM caters to that kink. So we know we’re going to get that in these books. Most if their shit is NOT okay for planet Earth. (That’s why some of us actively seek it and enjoy reading it in books.)

So let’s get in it!

Nesta modifying her body

Now as far as Nesta modifying her own body to have children one day, I don’t see that as sexist at all. Because the alternative to her altering her own anatomy is her pausing for a moment and asking Cassian if she can strip him of his faerie race and make him something else that doesn’t have wings. If that happened, we’d be getting into race and identity and all kinds of other shit that is hella problematic. 

So, no. Nesta wanting to one day birth her own children is not sexist. Nesta deciding to alter her own anatomy so that she can safely birth her own children with Cassian, is not sexist. (Now if Cassian did it without permission, then we’d have a problem!)

The IC making Nesta heal their way

Now THIS is a conversation on choice. Not sexism. Rhys has long touted that his court is a court of choices and all that. So forcing Nesta to either go to the human lands (where she’ll very likely die) or go to the House of Wind (where she can’t readily leave) and train and work everyday, is a problem. If you want to make an argument that this is the equivalent of Tamlin locking Feyre in the house, I won’t stop you. I would only ask that you consider the nuance. 

And the nuance here takes us back to world building. They don’t have psychiatric wards or mental health services or rehab centers like we do on planet Earth. Nesta needed help. AND LET ME BE REAL CLEAR: I’m not here to debate what kind of help she needed. (We could run in circles all day long debating that.) What I am saying is that they recognized that: 

Nesta’s behavior was not good, 

that THEY WERE ENABLING HER, 

that they actually had the power to do something about her situation

They do not live in a democracy. They live in a monarchy. They have and hold absolute power and rule. And while that whole intervention—or whatever the fuck that was—was absolutely TERRRRIBLE, they had every right to do what they did. Why? Because it fit the world building.

They acted like rich parents fed up with a wild teenager so they cut her off and gave her a choice between getting kicked out of the house or going to work on grandpa’s farm in the middle of BFE. Essentially that’s what they did.

Do I agree with it? Eh... they didn’t have a lot of options and SOMETHING needed to happen (I’d have been VERY ANGRY had they left her to die like that). Do I like it? FUCK NO. They went about it all wrong and it was shitty.

Abandoning her in the human lands would have been fucking murder. But do you HONESTLY, HONESTLY think Feyre would have done that??? ALSO, LET’S BE REAL: Nesta would not have stayed there long because EVERY HIGH LORD knows about her power and would want her in their court. That whole shit about the human lands likely was NOT real and was a scare tactic. It was a shitty scare tactic. But again, it fit the world building. AND Nesta’s character (cuz it worked, she didn’t ask to go to the human lands). 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

This isn’t directed at you Nonnie, but what did people think would happen? There would suddenly be psych wards and rehab centers and Feyre and Rhys would start acting with compassion and kindness and like they themselves had gone to therapy for decades and suddenly be able to convince Nesta to sign herself into one of those facilities? 

I get it’s annoying. And it’s infuriating. And some of their bullshit talking out their ass moments made me want to throw the book across the damn room. Because that’s not how you act to people in the middle of a downward spiral/crisis like Nesta was. 

But here’s the thing: they have no basis for knowing better. They don’t have mental health services. Gwyn mentioned a priestess who counsels them, but that’s NOT the same thing as a therapist or psychologist or psychiatric NP or psychiatrist.

So what did people expect?

Also. Do you think for one second, Nesta would have responded well to compassionate attempts to get her help? She hadn’t hit rock bottom yet (where compassion would have worked wonderfully *depending* on the type of rock bottom she hit). She would have seen any attempt like that as pity and she would have rebelled.

Here’s how I get over being annoyed with Feysand and Amren for that dumb af “intervention” moment: I remind myself that

They recognized she couldn’t keep going down the path she was going.

They recognized that they loved her too much to let that happen (Feyre at least). 

They recognized that they held ABSOLUTE POWER over her in their realm

They recognized that they needed to put her in a place where she had a purpose, a routine, where she couldn’t fall back on old habits, and where she had the option to talk to other trauma survivors (if she chose to) 

That’s what they knew. Putting her in the House was their only choice. So they did. And guess what? It worked. 

Now, the forcing her to train thing was BULLSHIT. You can’t force other people to change, they have to want that for themselves. But guess what? Turns out Nesta wanted to change. Because she wasn’t against training. She was only against doing it in a place where she could be judged. 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

Also, exercising is FUCKING FANTASTIC for mental health. (Maas knows that.)

Now did they demean her along the way? Yes. 

Was it shitty? HELL, YES! 

Did Rhys finally learn his lesson that night with the nightmare? He sure af did! 

Did some people in the fandom expect too much from Amren? Yep. Lady was never going to show affection or be nice to Nesta. Amren shows respect. When you respect Amren, she respects you. That’s her ENTIRE character. We’re three books in with Amren. Idk why people are still butthurt about her personality. Like. You can’t get mad at Amren for not being a table when she’s always been a chair. (Doesn’t mean we have to like her behavior or anyone else’s. But it does mean that we only have ourselves to blame when she acts the way she always has.) This same logic applied to Mor and Feyre and Elain etc.

Also. Did them acting like assholes drive the plot forward? IT SURE AF DID! If they had acted differently the book wouldn’t be as good as it is.

The shield around Feyre

If you want to make the argument about how this is a Tamlin thing to do, I won’t stop you. But again, I’ll ask you to consider the nuance and the world building. 

In a world where anyone can scent a pregnancy, would you not try to hide your ruler’s pregnant scent and body from enemies and potential attacks? I would! 

Is it a little territorial? Yes. 

Does that make sense for the world building and what we know about Fae males? Yep! 

Could Feyre have told Rhys to cut the shit? Yes. 

Is it possible Feyre *maybe* use the lie of Rhys and Helion(?) having fun with shield as an excuse to have it around herself? Yeah. I’d probably do it. 

Look, if Feyre hadn’t wanted the shield, it would have been gone. They said it was a compromise, but you can’t tell me Rhys would force a shield around her against her own will (or that she, The Cursebreaker, wouldn’t bust through it in a heartbeat).

Sorry if this comes off as salty, Nonnie! I don’t mean to be. I just don’t really understand why people get mad at stuff in books *that’s perfectly reasonable* for the world building when the alternative that they would prefer would be out of character, out the world building, or create plot holes etc. 

Hope this helps!

[silvysartfulness]

xiao xingchen's mental state is So Terrible

Request: Can we see Xiao Xingchen’s thoughts on near suicide? Abandonment? Betrayal? He’s defined himself by other people for most of his life - his master, his totally-not-soulmate Song Lan, and his murder-soulmate Xue Yang. To be left by one person and then to be betrayed by another must be … a lot. Does Xingchen think he betrayed Song Lan because Xue Yang killed Song Lan’s people?  He hasn’t had any time to deal with it, because he’s been playing babysitter… and then saving his pet murderer, too.  Because I’ve put a lot of thought into this, but my writing skills are about 0, and you are so good at angst.

Okay! I’ll just… stream of consciousness on this. Because there is a lot to say about Xiao Xingchen’s mental state, his sacrifices, his losses and his choices.

There’s definitely a lot of touching on these issues currently in Heaven Has A Road. The callback to Xiao Xingchen’s suicide, and the way both Xue Yang and Song Lan fear the worst when he takes off on his own.

The kicker is that Xiao Xingchen himself doesn’t realize. Doesn’t realize that they worry about that, or why they would. He may still be very much prone to self-sacrificial and reckless decisions for the sake of others, but he’s not actively suicidal or seeking to self-harm now, at least not in such a direct and physical way.

But of course it’s a theme very much hanging in the air.

To look back at canon; Xiao Xingchen is, I think, naive even by Celestial Mountain standards. The previous two of Baoshan Sanren’s disciples who left the mountain either went dark (it’s just vaguely hinted at, but clearly it Was Not Pretty) or was a rather mischievous trickster (shaving off Lan Qiren’s beard for being a rule-obsessed square).

There is a spiritual concept of “going into the world” or “leaving the world” respectively - leaving is what Baoshan Sanren did, letting go of attachment to worldly matters to retreat to her unnamed mountain and cultivate immortality. What Xiao Xingchen does is the opposite - he chooses to “enter the world”, to leave that detached existence behind to get involved in earthly matters - beautifully alluded to by the “chen” in his name, meaning (worldly) dust. (That choice is what Xue Yang curses him for during their confrontation that last day - “If you don’t understand the world, you shouldn’t have come! Why didn’t you stay on your mountain?!” )

But he makes that choice. He wants to help people, make a difference, and so he leaves his family behind, makes that sacrifice even knowing that it means he won’t ever see his home again, and descends into the world.

Xiao Xingchen is described as gentle but determined, not only physically fighting and vanquishing evil, but helping people with any ”difficult matter” they bring before him, never refusing anyone. He wants to do good; what’s good for any humble person, not just the mighty few. And for all that he is naive, Xiao Xingchen is also self-assured and uncompromising. He knows what he is striving for, and he doesn’t hesitate when it comes to putting thought into action.

And down in the world, he finds someone else who puts those ideals over the blood ties of the mighty clans - Song Lan. Zichen. They grow close, they talk about starting a sect together – between the lines that means spending the rest of their lives together, living for those shared ideals. They grow so close, people always mention them together.

And then Xue Yang happens. Something so corrupted and grisly, it shakes even this extremely powerful young cultivator.

Whether you go by novel or series canon, the way the rest of the world handles the aftermath of the Chang massacre, it clearly dents Xiao Xingchen’s trust in the sects, in society and its concept of ”justice” quite badly.

And then Baixue happens, as a direct consequence of them capturing and making enemies with Xue Yang. Xue Yang specifically tells Song Lan, ”Tell Xiao Xingchen this is a gift for him!”

So yes, I think Xiao Xingchen takes the full blame of the Baixue massacre upon himself, because Xue Yang was out to hurt him. But because he and his immortal master were out of reach, Baixue paid the price. Song Lan paid the price.

So he broke his vow never to return home, and he gave up his eyes, in a hopeless bid to repair some modicum of the damage he’d caused, to at least give Song Lan his sight back, if not his home, his family, his ideals and beliefs and and hope.

At some point in that aftermath, Song Lan did blame Xiao Xingchen and told him they should never meet again, and he took that to heart, too. Of course Song Lan wouldn’t want to see him again – what is he now, but a reminder of those losses? The losses his own hubris caused?

So he wrapped up Shuanghua and went nameless into the world, avoiding attachments, described as wandering aimlessly from place to place to offer help and then move on, to make sure no one else would be hurt because of him. (That Xue Yang wouldn’t hurt anyone else because of him.)

I wrote a passage about him thinking back on this in an upcoming chapter;

I tried being no one, he thought, unbecomingly bitter and hurting. To make sure people wouldn’t get hurt because of me again. I thought I succeeded, but I ended up hurting people, killing people with my own hands instead.

He studiously tried tuning out the somewhat uneven footfalls behind them, focused wholly on the hand in his.

I tried being nothing, after that, after learning the truth.

But people had died because of him all the same, even then, even with him gone. The last survivors of the Chang, the people of Yi City, all those nameless victims whose blood had paid for the spells to drag him back into the world of the living… A-Qing.

I won’t hide away again, he thought, setting his jaw. I have to try… Try to be something. To do something. To leave a legacy better than this. To make it all worth it, make sure all this suffering wasn’t for nothing.

It was a bitterness that his hopes of doing that, the chance to realize the purpose he so desperately clung to… came at the hands of the man whose shadow had haunted him into nameless exile and caused all that grief and death in the first place.

How much time Xiao Xingchen had to think about all this varies wildly between CQL-canon and MDZS-canon – in the novel, not a whole lot of time passes between the Baixue massacre and Xiao Xingchen meeting a-Qing and eventually Xue Yang. But in CQL, the Baixue massacre takes place before Sunshot, before Yiling Laozu claims the Burial Mounds, before Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s death… it’s been years of wandering alone before Xiao Xingchen meets a-Qing, and then Xue Yang. I’m not sure if it’s stated how long the Sunshot war is in CQL-canon, but even only going by the things we do know – Yanli having a child, Wei Wuxian having been dead for 16 years at the end of the Yi City arc where the main events took place 10 years ago, it’s anywhere between seven to some ten years.

So I think he has had a lot of time to reflect on all that grief from the past, but that it’s really just been spirals of hopelessness, never really processing or moving on from it. Shuanghua is still wrapped up when he meets a-Qing. He doesn’t introduce himself by name. It’s her shameless happiness, her choice to seek out his company – oh, how he’s ached for connection! - that finally gets him smiling again.

And once he makes friends with the odd stranger whose life he saves… He smiles. He laughs. They all build a home together. Shuanghua is no longer hidden. At the market, the stranger casually calls him by his name.

I think it’s only once they settle down in Yi City that he really begins healing from the horrors of the past. Dares start to build something new, in a tiny little backwater at the very edge of the map. Surely Xue Yang’s shadow won’t reach him, and this humble little existence he’s building here?

So of course it utterly breaks him when the truth comes out. Not just one, but awful truth after awful truth, tearing apart everything he’s built, everything he thought he had – everything he’s done.

A-Qing lied to him about being blind. His ”friend” was Xue Yang all along. He’s been tricked into killing people. He was tricked into killing Song Lan.

The character songs of the Yi City arc lean very heavily into Buddhist rather than Daoist themes – which is super interesting! - but especially the concept of karmic justice. No matter how unaware Xiao Xingchen was of it, he has killed. Not only did he turn away from cultivating immortality a long time ago – his soul is tainted forever. Gu Cheng speaks of ”debts” that can’t be repaid, falling into karmic sin. This isn’t just about tricking him into doing nasty things which leaves him horrified – he has been spiritually destroyed, and he didn’t even know.

The line of Gu Cheng that cuts the deepest is perhaps ”it was not your fault”/ ”The guilt doesn’t lie with you.”

Because that, I think, is at the core of things when Xiao Xingchen reaches for Shuanghua that day in Yi City - that he feels that it does. That it’s all his fault.

He has lost everything. He let down and/or was betrayed by everyone he knew. Killed his beloved soulmate. He himself is tainted and ruined beyond all salvation, because of what he’s done. And so he doesn’t just kill himself, he destroys himself, kills his body and shatters his soul, beyond all hope for reincarnation and rebirth. He utterly and completely ends himself, ends everything that is and was Xiao Xingchen.

Which is heartbreaking beyond words, and also why Heaven Has A Road clearly needed to happen. D:

…

I hope this was at least in the ballpark of the kind of rambling you were hoping for. XD

[stargazer-balladeer]

Can I request persona leaders comforting an s/o dealing with toxic parents? My parents have kind of been destroying mental health recently.

S/o with Toxic Parents [Persona Leaders]

Characters Included: Akira Kurusu, Yu Narukami, Minato Arisato & Minako Arisato

Note: I’m so sorry to hear that 😞 If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Hope you’ll like this!

Reader’s Gender: Neutral

Warnings: Mentions of toxic parents, verbal and physical abuse.

Akira Kurusu

— Akira would be so furious when he finds out that you have that kind of parents. He might not have the same hatred as Ryuji when it comes to adults, but he hates that kind of people who degrades other people, especially their children.

— Akira will help you, no doubt about it. He might also change their heart (whether you know it or not)! When your parents get arrested, he will beg Sojiro (I forgot this dude’s name and had to google it LMAO) to make you stay with him. Sojiro relents (with a condition of course, no nasty things 😒).

— Even though you don’t want to, Akira would force you to live with him. When you two started living together, he’ll spoil you with affection and love. He isn’t ashamed in declaring his love for you.

— Akira would have a sad and angry look on his eyes whenever you flinch. Sad that throughout your life, your parents have been abusing you. And angry that he should’ve been here earlier to save you.

— Akira might not be a therapist but he can try to be one. Just tell him everything and he won’t judge. When you start to cry, he’ll pull you in for a hug.

“Shh.. it’s okay. I’m here.” The warmth and cozy feeling of Akira’s embrace is enough to send another wave of tears. You tightly clench the back of his shirt as you sob in his chest. The moon was out as some of the light pass through the attic’s window.

Akira didn’t mind that you were staining his shirt at all. He wants you to let it all out. His brows knitted together once more when his thoughts went to your parents. Oh how he wanted to make them pay for what they’ve done to you.

“That’s it.. let it all out.” How your agony cries make his heart twist painfully in his chest. Like a knife repeatedly stabbing him. He wants to clear all of your awful thoughts. To get rid of the pain your parents brought to you. But he couldn’t. All he could do now is hold you in his embrace as he waits for you to stop.

Yu Narukami

— Yu is actually shock when he finds out about your background, then his face morph into a deadly murderous glare. Which makes the whole Investigation Team afraid of him. This is afterall their first time seeing Yu angry— no, furious.

—“P-Partner! Calm down—!” “Where are they?” “Meep—“

— Yu would immediately bring you into a warm hug when he finds you. He craddles your head behind the back as he whispers sweet nothings in your ears.

— Yu would immediately tell Dojima about what’s happening in your family. Even though you don’t want to, Yu couldn’t bear to see you suffer anymore. After they get arrested, Yu would also ask Dojima if you can move in with them. (Dojima saying yes bc he pities you too)

— Yu would immediately worry if you disappeared, his mind would be fill with endless worry because of the fact that your shadow counterpart can appear in the TV world. If it’s not, then Yu would be so grateful and pamper you with love. But if it is, Yu is already ready to take on your Shadow.

— Yu would do everything to cheer you up. When I mean by everything, everything. This boi would move heaven and earth for you. All he wants is to get rid of your painful thoughts.

“Hey, darling. Where are you?” You can hear Yu calling for you downstairs, but you couldn’t answer. You hiccup pathetically as you press your hand harder to cover your mouth, muffling your cries. You could hear your parents words still, as if they were still here. Still taunting you about how pathetic you are.

“You pathetic, good-for-nothing child! Why the hell are you crying?!” Tears were still pouring out of your eyes as the voice of your mother ring in your ears. “You’re just a bitch, why did we receive such a useless child.” Your whimper grew louder when the laughter of your father resonated through your head.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt someone near you. You bit your lower lip as you closed your eye, anticipating for the abuse. You flinch when you felt someone removing the duvet you’re under and touching you. The person quickly withdrew their hand.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes, fearing that both of your parents came back to get you. The fear crawling through your veins as you whimper a bit. You felt someone tenderly running a hand through your hair. “Shh.. it’s okay.”

You recognized the voice. You slowly opened your eyes to meet your boyfriend’s gentle and reassuring face. He was sitting on the side with his hand running through your hair. No words needed, you quickly crawl towards him, seeking his comfort. Yu immediately welcome you to his embrace.

He pets your head as you sob in his neck. His eyes glazed with tears as well as his hug tighten. “It’s okay.. their not coming back. I promise.”

Minato Arisato

— This would be the first time that the group will ever see their leader showing his emotion. Minato’s emotion is actually spiralling, he doesn’t know what to feel when he heard about your.. condition at home. His face contorts quickly from shock, angry, sad, concern and worry.

— Minato doesn’t immediately pull you into a hug, but he does open his arms for you. He’ll hug you tightly when you rush to his embrace. He doesn’t need to say anything as he nuzzle his face to your neck.

— Even though Minato doesn’t want you to be there anymore, he doesn’t have a choice. If the police takes away your parents, then where will you go? Will you also have a similar fate to him? He doesn’t want you to be an orphan just like him.

— But, even though Minato can’t bring justice to your parents just yet (lol. wrong game), he would make you move in to the Dormitory. So that he can take care of you and make sure you are far away from your toxic parents.

— Minato would glare at anyone who’ll make mean comments (Yukari 😒) or make you uncomfortable (Junpei 😒). Everyone by now knows not to mess with their leader’s s/o.

— Minato might not be affectionate but he’ll try. But, one thing is sure, he’ll always have time for you. Even though he’s tired from Tartarus, school, and Confidant rising, he’ll make time for you.

— Minato will also dote on you like the rest of the leaders. He will give you small gifts and trinkets, give you food and share his earphones with you. Even though he can’t erase all of the traumatic experience your parents gave to you, he’ll be damned that he’s trying his best.

— Minato understands if you need some alone time. And he would be so surprised whenever you flinch. He doesn’t bring it up but you can see the pain in his eyes whenever he sees you flinch.

“Can.. I come in?” Minato’s voice rang through the room. You didn’t have the energy to move from your bed, nor can you find your voice to call to him. You just feel.. nothing. Useless just like what your parents say.

You’ve already shed all of your tears, nothing is left anymore to shed as you laid motionless. Your eyes never left the ceiling, even when the door opened and closed. You could hear him walking towards you. Your eyes flickered to him before returning to the ceiling.

“Move.” Minato said, more like commanded, but he said that quietly and so gentle. You did what you were told as you roll to the side. You could feel your bed dipping slightly when Minato sat and laid down.

He made you face him as you stare at his blue-oceanic eyes. His eyes were usually cold and emotionless, but now, they were filled with admiration and sadness. He carefully place an arm around you, probably testing if you’re gonna push him away or not.

You didn’t do anything, so he took this as a sign to hug you. Your face was on the crook of his neck as you could feel his fingers running through your hair. Even though Minato isn’t talking, you could feel your eyes prickling with tears again.

Minato only held you close as you cried in his neck. He doesn’t need words afterall to express his concern to you..

Minako Arisato

— Minako might already have an idea on what’s going on with you. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s very sad about the fact that you have that kind of parents. She might be angry, yes. But she’s more concern and worry about you than them.

— Minako would hold your hands first before hugging you. She wants to make sure you’re okay first before hugging you. Afterall, you’re wellbeing is much more important than hers.

— Like Minato, she doesn’t have any power against your parents. As much as she wants them gone (believe me, she does), she doesn’t want you to be an orphan just like her. So she makes you move in with her in the Dormitory.

— As much as Minako wants to share a room with you, she respects your privacy. But she will make sure that you’re room is next to hers so that when you need her, she’ll be immediately be there.

— Minako would dote on you like usual, except with much more love. But she wouldn’t overwhelm you! She extremely loves you and doesn’t like seeing you unhappy.

— Even though Minako can’t change what happened, she can change what happens in the future. She would make sure that nothing bad would happen to you again. Even if it means escaping the country so that you wouldn’t go back to your family.

— Whenever you flinch when she tries to hold you, she quickly retracts her hand and ask you if you’re okay.

“Thank you so much, Minako..” Minako hums as you two cuddle in bed. It was already the late of night, and you had a nightmare. Minako immediately came to your room and calmed you down. “Why’re you thank me for?”

“You know,, for.. helping me escape from my parents.” She knew that you were having a hard time coping ever since you move in with them in the Dormitory. Especially since your parents practically drill all those nasty things about you in your head. Minako just embraces you tighter and nuzzle her head on top of your head.

“What’re partners for?” She giggles as you weakly chuckle. Minako might not know what the future will hold, but if she has to choice, she’ll spend the rest of her life with you. Trying to make you happy and make up for the unhappy times.

[x] Main Page || [x] Persona 5 Page || [x] Persona 4 Page || [x] Persona 3 Page

[justasimplesinner]

those angsty Jon hcs i promised

i wanted this to be a fic but i simply can't write it out. i have no idea where to start, how to even write it, how to describe everything, but i needed to turn this into something so here we are

Jonathan was rough by default, you could recall maybe one or two instances when he wasn't. sex with him was exhausting, both mentally and physically, but it was worth it. you trusted him, because he never went to far. like he knew you and your boundaries better than you knew yourself. you weren't afraid to give him control of your pleasure, of your body. but this felt like absuing it

choking was never off the table. hell, it was very much on the table. it was good to just let go, to let the other person control you for a moment, without a worry in the world. until you started to get worried, feeling his fingers tighten. they never stopped. they never flexed. they just tightened. until it became painful. until you actually couldn't breathe. he didn't let go. you looked into his eyes and saw he clearly had no intention of letting go. you clawed at his wrist, but it only made his smirk widen, it only made him push harder

he always told you he'd never hurt you, but in that moment it was hard to believe that. he did hurt other people after all, didn't he? he could've changed his mind about you any minute, you wouldn't know. maybe it was his idea of having complete control, literally holding your life in your hands. but your idea was to stay alive

it was painful, mentally and physically, what with how he pushed you further into the mattress, watching your face grow red, your veins pop, feeling your pulse quicken under his fingertips. hell, you felt him twitch. you felt exactly how his victims felt. you felt pure, raw fear because your vision was blurring and he was smiling at you in a way you never wanted anyone to smile at you, especially not him

you were sure you scratched his wrist to the point of bleeding before he finally let go, started going on about your fear and how good it looks on you, but you didn't feel the same for the rest of that session. you didn't tell him to stop but you didn't want him to keep going either. without realising, you obeyed his every wish in fear of him hurting you. everything was dictated by raw, primal instincts 

he would never hurt you, as in actually hurt you. you knew that. that's what he said. but that whole thing, it did hurt. it left bruises, and not the good kind. it left a little thought behind, nagging at the back of your brain - he said he wouldn't hurt you and yet he did. maybe he didn't even know he hurt you, you didn't say anything after all. maybe he knew but it was unintentional. or so you hoped

suddenly, you were more interested in his research, in his victims. suddenly, you were starting to ponder just exactly why he was being dragged off to Arkham every time he got caught, or why was he even caught. you knew the risk when you entered the relationship, but back then, you were sure he'd never hurt you. now, you had to remind yourself at every step that he wouldn't because it stopped being so sure

Jonathan saw you slowly pulling away from him. even flinching sometimes when he raised his hand near you or got too close. he saw you listening with more rapt attention to the news reports, especially those about him, and then sit in thought for hours. he had to watch you try to go normally about your day while also partly trying to avoid him. and quite honestly, his first thought was that maybe you've finally come to your senses and decided to leave him

he wasn't a man that left problems unsolved. he wasn't a man that'd let you go without an explanation, without a talk, without knowing what the fuck did he do to finally push you away from him for good. he's stoic when he asks you to talk to him, lists all of your behaviour changes, inquires about it all, despite his mind reeling and his stomach churning. after all, it was hard, constantly being in fear that the only good thing in his life was about to be ripped away from him

you tell him. you know you should, you know that's the right thing. you're scared of his reaction, but you tell him that one time you two were having sex, you felt uncomfortable. unsafe. that sometimes he takes things too far, even for you. this man has the gall to tell you that you can always ask him to stop, use the safeword or whatever, but you easily make him realise exactly which instance you have in mind about once you spitefully talk about how it's a little hard to say anything when you're choked half to death. how it's a little hard, suddenly having the thought that the one you love could literally kill you on the spot just because. how your own body betrayed you, misinterpreting some signals as arousal instead of fear. how you're suddenly plagued with thoughts that you might not be as safe as you initially thought you were

Jonathan made you spiral down into your fear without even using his toxin, and he doesn't really know how to react to that. under any other circumstances, he'd be proud. he'd be proud of his abilities. and maybe that said something about him. maybe that said a lot. he's a terrible human. hell, he knows he is. he isn't crazy, he isn't insane like they tell him at Arkham. he's just evil. by choice. but that doesn't mean he's not human. that doesn't mean he can't love, that he can't regret, that he can't feel. because he feels. you make him feel. and he wanted to make you feel in return, but not fear. out of all people, you just... couldn't be afraid of him. you were the only humanity and genuity he had left. you couldn't

he apologizes. he sincerely apologizes over and over again and he'll never stop apologizing, verbally or otherwise. he'll never stop trying to regain your trust. if there's anything he can do to make you feel comfortable again, he will do it. he doesn't want you to be scared. he doesn't want you to leave him. he doesn't want to be alone and turn into the monster everyone makes him out to be

he will make sure there's more communication. he will make sure you always tell him whether what he's doing is fine by you or not. he will leave you whenever you want him to leave you, he won't touch you whenever you don't want him to touch you. it's not that he didn't do that before, of course, because he never forced you to anything, but it's different now. he's trying to build what he's broken, he's trying to show you that you have nothing to be scared of. he's trying to keep you there with him. and whether you forgive him is your decision. and no matter what will it be, he will respect it. he'd rather let you go completely instead of hurting you by keeping you by his side

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

((Note: If you’re a confused little muffin who saw our ship in the top 100 list and you want to know what in the ever loving fuck we are, feel free to dm me or mention me in a post or even to send an ask. do be warned tho that if u send me hate i will block and report u (and not just to tumblr, to everyone I know who is part of this fandom). our little sub fandom is not a toxic space and no one is allowed to make it one or there will be a fucking war))

And we’re back to our anxiety induced in denial Damian. I love this kid. Tho I do wanna make him slightly more… how do I say this… like cold? I dunno maybe I can bring that in with other people and his interactions. I just wanna write him with his proper grammar and what not and like lbh this boi is already a simp for Mari. But I don’t wanna let things happen too quickly, y’know?

Anyway, maybe I should make the theme of this chapter the fact that he has absolutely no chill. Lmao, I think that’s hilarious ngl. Also I’m just gonna pretend certain things existed back then for the sake of my sanity I can’t keep coming up with words that make sense for explaining what a thing is without saying the actual word because it didn’t exist yet. The hologram in that one chapter was hard enough bruh

Ok here we go, thanks for reading! I hope u enjoy it

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 7 – Chill

Previous

Next

Damian rolled the ring between his fingers as the morning light filtered through his windows. She’d put the choice in his hands, it was a kind thing to do, smart too. It made sense, if this role was as important as she made it sound it needed someone who could commit to it.

The miraculous was the kind of black that seemed to stretch on forever. It had a bright green paw print on it. He hadn’t put it on yet but from what he could gather it’s kwami would appear as soon as he put it on.

He'd be one of the leaders of an entire Order. He had no idea how big it was. His mother had raised him to lead but that was an entirely different organization. How would Marinette react to that? Could he handle the responsibility?

These thoughts had been plaguing him from the moment he picked up the ring.

But that wasn’t what got to him the most. She was just so… good. She had even agreed to move her entire court to Gotham for his sake. To uproot her entire life and move everyone involved just so that he could stay with his family.

There had to be a catch.

There always is.

He sighed, overthinking everything wasn’t going to help him make this decision.

There was only one thing he could do.

He put on the ring and a bright light caught him off guard. A small floating cat like being appeared in front of him.

“Kid?” he kept his eyes closed as though he didn’t want to see who was in front of him, his voice breaking slightly.

Slowly, the kwami – Plagg if he remembered correctly - opened his eyes. Damian stared at him as disappointment flitted across the creature’s face.

He lifted his brow and asked, “Hope to see someone else, Plagg?”

He chuckled slightly, sadness lacing the sound, “My previous holder, thought maybe I'd get the chance to say goodbye this time,”

Damian frowned, “What do you mean?”

Plagg frowned, “You don’t know about my previous holder? Who gave you my miraculous?”

“Marinette did,” he said, simply, “She actually just gave me the chance to consider the offer of the position, I have the rest of the day to get to know you and make my decision,”

Plagg seemed to consider what he said, he then sat down on the bed in front of Damian. He explained the basics of the miraculous to him, the phrases he needed to use as well as what those phrases would do. The things he’d need as well as what behaviors he might pick up.

“Purring?” Damian said in a disbelieving voice, “You’re telling me I might start purring in my civilian form?”

Plagg cackled, “Yeah, don’t worry it’s not that bad,”

“Tt, what exactly is the purpose of it? In fact what exactly is my purpose? It seems like she has the leadership thing under control,”

Plagg seemed to sober up at the question, he flew up right in front of Damian’s face and looked him in the eyes, “Her job is to lead and look after her court,” his look sharpened and he narrowed his eyes, “Your job is to look after her, your job is to protect her, your job is to see her. Your purpose is to make hers as easy as possible. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll have other official responsibilities and you will rule alongside her, but your real job? Your purpose? You have to help her remember that she’s only human and that that’s okay,”

Damian stared at Plagg, the kwami stared back. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? There had to be something. Some kind of catch.

Before he could grill the kwami, Dick burst into his room.

Damian could see his brother’s clear panic and immediately stood. Dick’s eyes found his, “She’s gone,”

Damian felt himself spiral, memories flew through his mind. All the times he or any of his siblings had been taken. Cass didn’t speak for a month after the last incident. Jason’s “secret" panic attacks had increased tremendously. Tim stayed up for nights on end, only sleeping when he passed out. Damian sparred for hours and hours, hating the feeling of being useless. 

His father and Dick weren’t in Gotham at the time and Selina was helping Harley with one of her ‘projects’.

When they got Steph back after a week, she was so shook up that she kept waking up screaming from nightmares for months.

They all blamed themselves.

“Her kwami showed us a letter she left but someone could’ve faked it to buy time, they’re searching the village,” Jason said, coming into his room, holding a piece of parchment.

Damian barely registered the way Plagg seemed to study his reactions. They needed to find her, it was already afternoon, who knows how far gone she could be?

They spent hours scouring the castle. Before he knew it the moon was rising and they were all gathered in the living room, going over possibilities.

“I’m going to go get Alfred and Bruce, this has been going on long enough, it’s time to call in back up. It’s already passed nightfall and she’s not back yet,” Dick walked out of the room, barely two seconds passed before he shouted something to them, “Guys I found her!”

They were out quicker than a lightning bolt. He ignored his siblings as they all flocked around her. He took her in.

She was wearing a cloak, which Jason quickly took and gave to a passing maid. She wore one of her black dresses. Her hair was in a braid.

But the cloak was dirty, the dress had tears and the braid was messy.

But it was her eyes that got him. The blue irises looked like someone had taken every drop of sadness in the world and left it in them. They were red rimmed and puffy and there were black bags under them.

She’d been crying and she hadn’t slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Somewhere along the line, they moved back into the living room. Cass was sitting next to Marinette on the couch and the others were arguing.

Damian couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was here. She was safe. She wasn’t taken.

Cass tapped his arm, he turned to look at her and she started signing. (a/n ok yeah I know that sign language might not have existed but do I really care?)

Get her out of here, she’s tired, Cass signed.

Damian nodded and after asking her permission and scolding his siblings, he escorted her to her room.

Plagg whispered something to her that he couldn’t hear. 

Then she apologized for scaring him and he explained his thought process. She explained that he would’ve been able to know via their miraculous whether she was in trouble or not. He made a mental note to ask Plagg more about that.

When they got to her room he opened her door. She was about to go in but he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked at him expectantly. He searched her gaze, he had so much he wanted to ask her, why she’d been crying was at the top of that list.

But she looked so tired, and Damian just couldn’t get himself to form the words. Instead he bid her goodnight and went back to the living room where his siblings were waiting.

All eyes turned to him when he entered. He didn’t know what to say. Instead of thinking his words through he blurted out the first thing he thought.

“She didn’t flinch when our eyes met,” he said. They all stared at him for a few seconds. Usually they would’ve laughed at his bluntness, Damian is certain, but there was something about the haunted look on her face that sapped all humor out of the situation.

Jason was crouched in front of the fire. Stephanie sat on one of the chairs while Dick leaned against its armrest. Damian was next to Cassandra on the couch and the five of them sat in silence.

Millions of questions danced through the air, the answers all just out of reach.

Little did they know that they weren’t the only ones with questions.

Outside, three pairs of eyes were watching the oblivious siblings closely.

Damian felt a chill go down his spine and turned towards the window. He walked over and stared out into the forest, he didn’t see anyone but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave him.

He closed the curtains.

The smallest of the three chuckled slightly, “She got herself a paranoid one, huh?”

“We need to head back,” the only guy out of the three said to the others.

They nodded and followed him deeper into the forest.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette @f-rget-lt @fusser90

[shit-mcu-stans-write]

submission from anon: essay on rhodey

my apologies that this is so long. i had a lot more to say than i realised and this… just kind of happened.

so… lieutenant colonel james “jim” rupert “rhodey” rhodes… i have a lot of feelings about him and his character development and for once… i actually like what i see from the mcu. i love what the mcu has completely unintentionally done for him and i find it absolutely hilarious because i know it’s 100% unintentional, because they’d never purposefully make rhodey’s character development so anti-tony-stark. but that’s what we’ve been presented with. and i love it. hear me out:

in iron man 1 rhodey starts as tony’s babysitter. rhodey says so himself: “you don’t respect yourself so I know you don’t respect me - i’m just your babysitter” but despite the fact he knows tony doesn’t respect him, he’s still there for tony, still supporting him, still showing him as much love as he can no matter how little tony gives back. he puts it down the the fact tony doesn’t respect himself; he’s reckless and childish and doesn’t take responsibility for his actions. rhodey might be being sarcastic and snarky when he’s saying “when you need your diaper changed let me know and I’ll get you a bottle” but there’s some truth to it: he can’t help but mother-hen tony, because someone has to be responsible for the kid (he sure as hell can’t be responsible for himself!), and rhodey has put himself in that position.

i think a lot of that’s to do with the fact they both met really young in mit, with rhodey being a couple (?) years older than tony at the time. they stuck together because they were both in the unique position of being child prodigies, but because rhodey was the older of the two i think he quickly settled into a caregiving role. but by iron man 1, rhodey has emotionally matured, and tony hasn’t. he hasn’t needed to, being a white billionaire boy and all. so rhodey still sees tony as this kid he’s always been there for, always protecting, always giving and giving and giving to, and putting up with. they’ve been friends for so long that he’s used to it.

by iron man 2, rhodey is fed up. tony is being even more reckless than usual because he’s dying but no one knows, so rhodey is being pushed to his breaking point. there’s a deleted scene where rhodey says something which i feel says everything you need about what their relationship has become by now: “hanging out with you is bad for our friendship”. rhodey is starting to realise just how impossible being an actual friend - not just a yes-man and support staff - for tony is. and all that culminates in the fight scene where, upon seeing tony drunk and endangering his party guests in a WMD supersuit, rhodey reaches that breaking point. protects tony from himself one last time by fighting him, then cuts ties.

only, by the end of iron man 2, rhodey learns that taking the suit to the military and letting hammer get his paws on it was a bad idea, and that tony was literally near death the whole time he was being a dick, and then they have to team up to defeat vanko together. so despite having gone through all the shit tony’s put him through and realising how terrible a friend tony actually is, he chalks this all up to a mistake and a misunderstanding on his part. gives tony a second (or, more realistically, hundredth) chance. which is why in iron man 3 they’re best buds again. im3 is probably the healthiest depiction of their relationship tbh, and that’s on im3 tony being the least assholeish depiction of tony in the whole mcu (imo).

but tony’s character begins to sour massively from AOU onwards (not saying he wasn’t an… abrasive character beforehand, to say the least, but clearly all the guilt from causing ultron and inadvertently causing the mess in sokovia is affecting him and his relationships; pepper, another caregiving character that has put up with tony’s entitled, misogynistic bullshit for years, has left him, and i think that’s a massive sign that he’s spiralling in a similar way he did in im2. after all, the writers refuse to develop him as a character, which means he’ll never get help for his mental health and never learn healthy coping mechanisms. i honestly wonder what happened for pepper to leave - we’ve seen the breaking point for rhodey, so what was hers?)

so yeah, anyway, tony is starting to spiral again from AOU. civil war happens - he blames the team and latches onto the accords as a way to absolve himself of the guilt, bla bla bla, you know the plot. and, just like the others, rhodey is given mere days to read, consider, and sign this life-changing document; not only is his best friend vehemently, vocally, and violently in favour these documents, they’re also coming from a position of power that he, as a military man, respects. so it makes sense he’d initially be on the side of the accords.

and then something even more life-changing than the accords happens for rhodey. sam accidentally shoots him down and he injures his legs so bad that he can’t walk without support. and rhodey’s response to that? i know we don’t get to see much of rhodey’s response and recovery, which is a travesty, but what we do get? really sheds some light on the kind of man rhodey is, and how he develops as a person by the end of endgame. 

for once in his life, rhodey is in the position of needing to be cared for - and on top of that, tony is the one offering. we also see that rhodey wants his recovery to be something he does alone as much as he possibly can, because that’s just the kind of person he is; we see the sheer amount of value he places on his ability to handle things on his own, and the skyrocket-high responsibility he holds himself to. and now all of a sudden tony’s actually trying to reciprocate the attention and care he’s shown him without reward for years (and only because of this guilt spiral he’s been on since AOU)… and that must have been fucking jarring for rhodey.

i think the sudden and strange role reversal probably helped him work out a few things about his relationship with tony a lot. which is why, when infinity war rolls around, they don’t interact. rhodey seems closer to and more in alignment with the “rogues”/“nomads” than tony. where once he agreed with the accords, he’s had some time to actually read them and reconsider them, and he’s against them now! he hates ross and greets steve with a warm hug!

and something i love so fucking much about infinity war (dispite all it’s other faults)? sam and rhodey’s relationship. sam shot rhodey down and disabled him for the rest of his life. and rhodey forgives him. first of all, because that’s the kind of person rhodey is (he’s had plenty of practice forgiving all kinds of shit with tony), and rhodey understands it was a mistake (and probably empathises with how horrible it must have been for sam; he’s military too, he understands that specific kind of guilt). interesting to compare rhodey’s response to the mistake with tony’s. and heartwarming to see that, for once, when rhodey forgives someone for what they’ve done, he is given gratitude and a genuine two-way friendship in response. i live for sam and rhodey’s every interaction in iw.

and then we get to endgame. know how many times rhodey interacts with tony in endgame? twice. first interaction: “okay, you made your point - just sit down, okay?” (read: “stop acting like a child before you hurt yourself”). second interaction: *sadly touches his face as he realises he’s dying before moving aside to let peter and pepper say their goodbyes*. what i love about these interactions - and the lack of any other interactions - is what it clearly means for rhodey:

1) tony still means a lot to rhodey. he’ll always mean a lot to him. they were best friends since they were literally just kids at mit. he’ll always, i think, love tony and want to care for and protect him (from himself, mainly). and tony, in his own way, will always love rhodey. but, 2) rhodey has still, nevertheless, cut ties with tony. i think the time away from action caused by the long recovery process he would’ve went through not only let rhodey reconsider his stance on the accords and his superiors in the military such as ross, but it also gave him time (and a wildly new perspective) to realise how toxic his relationship with tony truly is.

and what’s great to compare the way in which and reasons why he cuts ties with tony after civil war compared to the way in which and reasons why he cut ties with tony during im2, is that rhodey hasn’t been pushed to his breaking point this time. he has way more agency in his choice this time. he’s not leaving because he’s been infuriated one time too many; he’s doing it because he’s actually being given the kind of support he himself has been dishing out all these years… and doesn’t want it. not if it’s coming from the place of convenience and guilt that it is with tony. he cannot be guilt-tripped into forgiving tony anymore because he is making his choice this time with clear-mindedness.

and you know what’s so great about him finally genuinely cutting ties with tony this time around? he’s no longer his yes-man. he gets space to breathe as his own character. he jokes around more. he’s not annoyed all the time. he gets involved with the rest of the team. as i’ve said, he interacts with sam and it’s beautiful. he interacts with nebula and it’s heartwarming and they form a bond so quickly. and in all the new interactions he gets you see he is receiving so much more respect and reciprocation than he’s ever experienced with tony. and it makes me so happy.

also i can’t help but think about how it’s also a pretty big deal for him as a black character to go through all of these revelations and developments; black kids are often encouraged/forced to mature mentally/emotionally a lot quicker than white kits, and take on responsibility that shouldn’t be their burden to bear from a young age (which i think was absolutely something rhodey experienced as a highly intelligent black child), and it’s not uncommon for black characters to be portrayed in these caregiving roles to Hurt White Characters. so for him to break out of that box is just beautiful.

tony, on the other hand, is a white billionaire who never learned how to grow up; he’s never had to handle the kind of daily-grind stress that non-billionaire poc like rhodey have handled since they were a kid. not saying tony hasn’t faced other kinds of stress, but for the most part? everything has been given to him on a shiny golden platter. so when responsibility is thrust upon him - when his faults are actually pointed out - he doesn’t know how to handle it. hasn’t learned. it destroys his mental health. he gets destructive in turn. irreparably damages his relationships. spirals and spirals and refuses. to get. help. (you’re a billionaire, tony - you can afford a therapy. and the idealisation/romanticisation of unhealthy guilt spirals and a mindset of powering through despite everything and without asking for help until you crash and burn is not good mental illness/neurodivergent rep, it’s just the only one the mcu knows how to write.) i despair at the loss of opportunity when it comes to tony’s character and what he could have come to represent, but that’s another essay entirely.

when it comes to rhodey, however, the mcu have accidentally created a wonderful character and a wonderful character arc. that’s not to say they deserve any praise though, because this was likely never their intention and it’s purely accidental (again, they’d never purposefully give rhodey such an anti-tony character arc, just like they’d never intentionally make tony a bad role model, but that’s what they did, completely accidentally).

not only is rhodey a character who is unwaveringly kind and forgiving (and is rewarded for these traits later down the line in his new relationships), but we also get to see him learn how his kindness and forgiveness shouldn’t be taken for granted as it has been for years of his life. we see him step away from harmful relationships. we see him take back his life for himself - refuse to be someone else’s nanny. we see his growth and his development, and it’s wonderful, and i love him.

in conclusion: war machine rox. 

[mudhornchronicles]

dreamboat | greaser!frankie | part four

pairing: frankie morales x reader; greaser!frankie x reader

warning: cursing, talking down, and feels

a/n: listen… I know the song mentioned in this part was released before their time and I’ve tried my hardest to stay within this timeline but it just went so well. sue me. also... do ya’ll like the moodboard i did? c:

part one | part two | part three | part four

masterlist

No matter what you were doing, homework or chores, your mind is always drifting off to Frankie. 

and so did Frankie’s.

The urge to talk to him became stronger every time you saw him in class because you truly enjoyed his company. You liked him because he never tried to be someone he was not - he was true to himself.

You were enamored by the way he spoke so passionately about his mother and his favorite pastimes. You felt a ripple of joy when you had seen his eyes light up when you complimented his father’s car. You also caught yourself giggling like a schoolgirl at the sight of his cheeks reddening at your comment about his “cute dimple.” 

You may have not known Frankie for long, but from the time you’ve spent with him, the more at ease you felt. 

Frankie didn’t miss the quick glances you shot his way, but he also knew you didn’t miss the way he paid more attention to the way you adjusted your pencil when you tried to understand the day’s lesson than to the lesson itself. 

Frankie took a mental note at the fact that you took great pride with your hair. Even though there were endless ways of styling your hair, Frankie’s favorite was your go to up-do with a ribbon that always matched your skirt. It was simple, yet so elegant at the same time. 

You packed your grey spiral notebook and #2 pencils in your school bag and settled the leather strap on your right shoulder. Your class let out early, which you were thankful for. You were tired from running to your first period after missing the bus and having to catch a ride with Max - making him late in the process. You walk into the hallway, ready to take the stairs for your math class when you hear a throat clear behind you. You assumed it wasn’t for you and as you placed a hand on the handrail, you hear Frankie speak your name.

You look back and flash him a tired smile. “Good morning, Francisco.” You check the giant black and white clock and cough up a chuckle. “Actually, good afternoon.”

Frankie looks around to see students’ eyes widen when they hear you call him Francisco. Shit, Frankie thinks. 

“C’mon baby.” Frankie silently chastises himself. “Don’t be runnin’ that pretty little mouth with my government name ‘round here.”

You stood dumbfounded. “Excuse me?” 

Frankie leans back on the cement wall and chuckles. “Y’heard me… Listen sweetheart. I-” He abruptly stops and glares at the gawking students. Freshman, he thinks.

“Was I talkin’ to you? Get the fuck outta here before I give ya a reason to stare.” and with that they scram. You frown and scoff.

“Goodbye, Frankie.”

“No.” He gently grabs your arm and turns you back to him. “Can we please talk? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“Frankie let go of me.” You tug on your arm, trying to set it free from is grasp. “I’ll be late for math class.”

Frankie lets out a laugh, the laugh you liked hearing. “It’s a short day,” he says. “School’s out for the day.”

“Is today Wednesday?” you question.

Frankie nods and smiles, revealing his perfect dimple. “You got a ride home? Lorenzano told me you got him detention.”

Your mouth drops. “He got detention? Oh no! That was not my intention at all! I was let off easy.” You shake your head in disbelief. “If he’s in there I should be too. Excuse me, Frankie.”

Frankie throws his head back in laughter and holds you in place. “I’m kiddin’, doll. I just saw ‘em leave with Goldilocks.”

“Goldilocks?”

“Michael, sweetheart. I gotta teach ya these names. He was your ride, wasnt he? How ‘bout I take ya home?”

You rub the back of your neck and shake your head slowly. “That won’t be the best idea, Frankie.”

“‘Cause of ya folks?” You nod and decide your shoes are much more interesting to look at than the brown swirls of chocolate that rest in his eyes.

“What do they say ‘bout me?” You look back up and your eyes shift to a doe-like look.

“C’mon dolly. Just tell me.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other as you bite your lip, trying to find the words to say. “They said you aren’t what I need to be seen with. That your only goal in life is to ruin what they worked so hard to have. My mother said you were only going to use me for the opportunities I earn and use them for yourself and that I should just forget you.” You let out a deep sigh and look into his eyes.

You see his jaw shift side to side and take in a deep breath. He looks at you and says, “and do you believe them?”

“No. Not one bit.”

Frankie takes one of your hands into his and smiles. “Good. I won’t make you any more late to the bus than I already have.” Frankie gestures to the hallway that stretches down and meets the entrance of the building. 

“But I do have a question for you.” You nod, motioning for him to continue. “You wanna go on a ride with me?

“I thought you hid your car?”

“I never said anything about my car. How ‘bout it, dolly? Let me take you on a joy ride.”

You hesitate and Frankie notices this. “Do you trust me?”

He continues to play with your fingers and you give his hand a small squeeze.

“I do.” you smile. “Pick me up at the same spot as the last time, okay?”

———

You can’t help but feel worried, yet excited all at the same time. When you heard the roar of Frankie’s motorcycle, a smirk crept up and planted itself at your lips. You turned and saw Frankie ride up and park right next to you, kicking the stand and stabilizing the bike before walking over to you.

“So this is what you meant by a ride, huh?” Frankie smiled proudly and nodded. “Yep. This here is Delta. Finally finished her a couple months back. Whatd’ya think? Ain’t she a beaut?”

You walked around the bike, analyzing it and committing her details to memory. “She’s a Harley FL? She looks like a ‘41 or ‘42.”

Frankie looks back at you with an amused look. “You know bikes?”

You smiled and nodded. “My uncle owns a shop upstate.” You comment. “His prized possession is a 1935 Vincent Comet. He’s very proud of it. It doesn’t move, but it looks nice.” You joke. 

“I think I just fell in love with you, doll. You can’t just whip this on me so suddenly.” You laugh with him and smile to yourself.

I think I just fell in love with you, doll. 

“Before we go, I need you to wear this.” He says handing you a silver and red helmet. You frown and pat the crown of your head. “But it’ll frizz and flatten my hair”

He pulls a white bandana from the inside of the helmet and hands it to you. “It won’t, trust me. My mom wears this all the time and her hair is still higher than the empire state.”

“I do trust you, Frankie.” You chuckle. You bring his hands, bandana in between, and motion for him to tie it for you. This brings him close. His face is close to yours - his lips closer than ever. 

He ties it in place and cups your cheek. Your eyes are glued on each other and that feeling of being content flows back into your system. He clears his throat and hands you the helmet, unbuckling it before you take it into your hands.

He helps you onto the back of the bike and before he can get on, you spot his school bag tied to the side of the bike. “What’s with the bag?”

“It has something for us. Don’t worry, doll. You’ll see soon.”

———

Who knew this place had such a view. Frankie drove up through windy roads, the elevation making your ears pop, but the result was breathtaking. He pulled up to a flat section of the mountain, nearly at the top, and you could see the navy image of the mountain range serving as the background of the miniscule outline of the town.

Frankie helps you off the bike, placing a helmet on each of the handles. He unties his bag for the bike, grabbing your hand and leading you towards a grassy area. He opens his bag revealing a squared white tablecloth, snapping it and placing it on the ground. He helps you onto the fabric and allows you to get settled before he sits and re-opens his bag. He snaps his bag shut and looks at you. He calls your name, and you give him your full attention, which he has had from the beginning.

“Would you like to have a picnic with me?” he shyly says. Your cheeks burn at the sight of his timidity. “I would love to, Frankie.”

From his bag, he pulls two glass soda pop bottles nestled in paper napkins, two wrapped sandwiches, candy bars, and a bag of potato chips. He sets your share of the foods in front of you and sets the candy choices in front of both of you.

“I didn’t know what candy your favorite was, or if you even eat candy, but I brought us some options.” He proudly says. In front of you were a plethora of candy: snickers, gummi bears, kit-kats, m&ms, junior mints, and tootsie pops. You grabbed your favorite and thanked him.

You weren’t used to be treated with the amount of kindness as Frankie was giving you. You had been courted before, but they all believed that gifts were the way to your heart, but, you just wanted a good conversation.

“Frankie, can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything you want, doll.”

“Why are you so set on being around me?”

Frankie shrugs, opening his sandwich. “You’re a cool chick.”

You nod in agreement and giggle. “Alright… You’re a cool cat too Frankie… well when you’re not getting arrested.”

Frankie playfully rolls his eyes and lets out a loud groan. “That was one time.”

You give him a nudge and when you are certain he’s looking; you start to mock him.

“Please Mr. Jailer…. Won't you let my man go free…”

Frankie lets out a hearty laugh. “That’s unfair!”

“Please Mr. Jailer,” you continue. “Won't you let my man go free.” You both cackle and howl until you’re out of breath.

“C’mon! How ‘bout ya give my criminal record a break and eat your sandwich!”

You looked at the plastic wrapped sandwich and grinned. “Did you make these yourself?” He nods with a mouthful of food and hums uh huh. You enthusiastically unwrap the sandwich and take a big bite. You let out a moan in delight as the flavor of seasonings attack your tastebuds. It’s not too spicy, but it’s also not bland – making it one of the best sandwiches you’ve ever had.

“This is amazing. What’s in it?”

“Um.. swiss cheese, a mayo and chipotle sauce thing my mom put together, crushed chips, and seasoned chicken. My mom wanted to be different and used chicken instead of ham, I guess.”

“Well tell your mom that she’s a genius. This is incredible.”

Frankie sniggered. “I’ll pass it along. She’s an excellent cook. You’ll have to try it sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

You both sat and ate quietly. No words were spoken – simply taking in the scenic view. You look over to Frankie, only to see him in a daze. There was a question that lingered in your mind and although you didn’t want to ruin the moment, you knew you had to ask. You whisper his name, hoping he would hear it, and he did. He slowly turned over to you and uttered a low yes.

“Why do you act differently when we’re together in public than in private?” You vocalized the confusion that lingered in your mind from the moment he flipped a switch at school. “You’re sweet, smart, and caring while we’re here doing this, but all you do at school is curse, skip class with the boys, and disrespect anyone that looks at you a little too long.”

Frankie knew this conversation would come. He didn’t think you would notice his attitude changes, yet here you were. He lets a sigh be exhaled through his nose as he shakes his head. “You just wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I act the way I do because that’s what people expect. They expect someone like me to fail and…You have no idea what this town… what these people… can do to you.”

“Frankie… I may not know what you’ve gone through in life, but what I do know is that you have my shoulder to lean on and my ears to listen when you need it the most. I like seeing this Frankie.” You sit up, resting your weight on your legs, and reach for his hand. “The Frankie that gets good grades and has a great sense of respect and responsibility – not the Frankie I saw at school today.”

He looks down at your interlocked hands and lets out a content breath. Frankie gives your hand a squeeze and gazes at you – not at your eyes… this look goes much deeper than that.

“Does your mother really believe I’d use you and toss aside the one person that decided to get to know me before they wanted nothing to do with me?”

You shrug, knitting your eyebrows. “She can think what she wants to think – just know that’s not the way I do.”

A cool breeze picks up as you continuously play with each other’s hands and sit comfortably in close proximity. Frankie reluctantly lets go of your hand and shimmies out of his leather jacket. He wraps it around your shoulders, making sure your exposed arms are somewhat covered. You take a lapel in each hand, pulling on them to wrap yourself with the jacket. Frankie’s heart skips a beat as he takes a mental picture of the way you looked wearing his jacket.

Frankie sits back down, but you nudge your way closer and closer to him. You feel like melting as you smell his cologne, from the jacket and himself.

“What are you going to do about Michael?”

Frankie looks taken aback from the sudden question. “Don’t worry that pretty little head about him. The boys and I will handle the trust fund baby. I’ll figure it out.”

“Are you going to get hurt?”

Frankie stretches his arm out, a quiet plea for you to come closer. You oblige and he immediately wraps his arm around you, placing a chaste kiss atop you head. “I don’t know.”

You put your head on his shoulder and hug him, both arms around him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No one will get hurt if Mikey boy plays his cards right.” You look up and see his softened face, but stern eyes. The thought of Michael alone burns a flame in Frankie, a reaction he had no actual reasoning behind.

You stay like this for a few minutes, but you decide to lighten the mood.

“Psst…” you say. Frankie looks down at you with kind eyes.

“I know that no other… One will ever do… And I know that the answer's…All up to you.” you sing.

Frankie sniggers and rolls his eyes, but nevertheless joins you.

“Please Mr. Jailer… Won't you let my man go free.”

———

dreamboat taglist:

@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @funerals-with-cake @seasonschange-butpeopledont @danniburgh​ @curiouskeyboard

taglists + requests are open!

[star-anise]

An ask I got recently:

hi so i’m a transmed and i’m not sure if you’ll answer this because of that but i saw your post about transmedicalism and was wondering if you could expand on that? you seem like a genuinely kind and judgement-free person, thank you darling x

My response:

Heh, you call me “judgement-free” and ask for my opinion on a topic I’ve formed a lot of judgments about… I get it though, I’m not into attacking people for what they believe so much as providing FACTS. As a cis queer, my insight into transmedicalism isn’t really about the innate experience of trans-ness so much as using my education and professional experience to talk about social science research, diagnostic systems, and public health policy.

This ended up really long, so the tl;dr is, I think transmedicalism as I understand it:

Misunderstands why and how the DSM’s Gender Dysphoria diagnosis was written,

Treats the medical establishment with a level of trust and credibility it doesn’t deserve, at a time when LGBT+ people, especially trans people, need to be informed and vigilant critics of it, and

Approaches the problem of limited resources in an ass-backwards way that I think will end up hurting the trans community in the long run.

TW: Transphobia; homophobia; suicide; institutionalization; torture; electroshock therapy; child abuse; incidental mentions of pedophilia.

So first off I’m guessing you mean this post, about not trusting the medical establishment to tell you who you are? That’s what I’m trying to elaborate on here.

I have to admit, when you say “I’m a transmedicalist” that tells me very little about you, because on Tumblr the term seems to encompass a dizzying array of perspectives. Some transmedicalists believe in what seems to me the oldschool version of “The only TRUE trans people suffer agonizing dysphoria that can only be fixed with surgery and hormones, everyone else is an evil pretender stealing resources and can FUCK RIGHT OFF” and others are like, um… “I have total love and respect for nonbinary and nondysphoric trans people! I qualify for a DSM diagnosis of dysphoria but that doesn’t make me inherently better or more trans than anyone else.”

Which is very confusing to me because according to everything I’ve learned, the latter opinion is not transmedicalism. It’s just… a view of transness that acknowledges current diagnostic labels and scientific research. It’s what most people who support trans rights and do not identify as transmedicalists believe. But I kind of get the impression that Tumblr transmedicalism has expanded well past its original mandate, to the point that if a lot of “transmedicalists” saw the movement’s original positions they’d go “Whoa that’s way too strict and doesn’t help our community, I want nothing to do with it.”.

Okay so. Elaborating on the stuff I can comment on.

1. DSM what?

The American Psychiatric Association publishes a big thick book called The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, called the DSM for short. This is the “Bible of psychiatry”, North America’s definitive listing of mental disorders and conditions. It receives significant revision and updates roughly every 10-15 years; it was last updated in 2013, meaning it will likely get updated sometime between 2023 and 2028.

The DSM lists hundreds of “codes”, each of which indicates a specific kind of mental disorder. For example, 296.23 is “Major depressive disorder, Single episode, Severe,” and  300.02 is “Generalized anxiety disorder.” These codes have information on how common the condition is, how it’s diagnosed, and what kind of treatment is appropriate for it.

Diagnostic codes are the key to health professionals getting paid. If there isn’t a code for it, we can’t get paid for it, and therefore we have very few resources to treat it with. The people who actually pay for healthcare–usually insurance companies or government agencies–decide how much they will pay for each code item to be treated. They’ll pay for, say, three sessions of group therapy for mild depression (296.21), or they’ll pay for more expensive private therapy if it’s moderate (296.22); they’ll pay for the cheap kind of drug if you have severe depression (296.23), but to get the more expensive drug, you need to have depression with psychotic features (296.24).

Healthcare companies, especially in the USA where the system is very very broken and the DSM is written, are cheap bastards. If they can find an excuse not to fund some treatment, they’ll use it. “We think this person who lost their job and can’t get off the couch should pay this $1000 bill for therapy,” they’ll say. “After all, they were diagnosed as code 296.21, and then saw a private therapist for five sessions, when we only allow three sessions of group therapy, and you’re saying they haven’t had enough treatment yet?”

A lot of the advocacy work mental health professionals do is trying to get the big funding bodies to pay us adequately for the work we do. (This is a much easier process in countries with single-payer healthcare, where this negotiation only needs to be done with a single entity. In the USA, it needs to be done with every single health insurance company in existence, as well as the government, sometimes differently in every single state, and then again on a case-by-case basis as well.) Healthcare providers have to argue that three sessions of group therapy isn’t enough, that Medicaid needs to pay therapists more per hour than it costs those therapists to rent a room to practice in, or else therapists would lose money by seeing Medicaid clients. DSM codes exist a tiny bit to let us communicate with each other about the people we treat, and a huge amount to let us get paid. The fact that their existence lets people make sense of their own experiences and find a community with people who share common experiences and interests with them is a very minor side benefit the DSM’s authors really don’t keep in mind when they update and revise different diagnoses.

So when it comes to convincing insurance companies to pay for treatment, humanitarian reasons like “they’ll be very unhappy without it” tend not to work. The best argument we have for them paying for psychological treatment is that it’s economical: that if they don’t pay for it now, they’ll have to pay even more later. If they refuse to pay, let’s say, $2000 to treat mild depression when someone loses their job, and either refuse treatment or stick the person with the bill, then that person’s life might spiral out of control���they might, let’s say, run low on money, get evicted from their apartment, develop severe depression, attempt suicide, and end up in hospital needing to be medically resuscitated and then put in an inpatient psych ward for a month. The insurance company then faces the prospect of having to pay, let’s say, $100,000 for all that treatment. At which point somebody clever goes, “Huh, so it would have been cheaper to just… pay the original $2000 instead so they could bounce back, get a new job, and not need any of this treatment later.”

Trans healthcare can be kind of expensive, since it often involves counselling, years of hormone therapy, medical garments, and multiple surgeries. Health insurance companies hate paying for anything, and have traditionally wanted not to cover any of this. “This is ridiculous!” they said. “These are elective cosmetic treatments, it’s not like they’re dying of cancer, these people can pay the same rate for breast enhancements or testosterone injections as anyone else.”

So when the APA Task Force on Gender Identity Disorder (a task force comprised, as far as I can tell, entirely of cis people) sat down to plan for the 2013 update of the DSM, one of their biggest goals was: Treatment recommendations. Create a diagnosis which they could effectively use to advocate that insurance companies fund gender transition. Like when you go back and read the documents from their meetings in 2008 and 2011, their big thing is “create a diagnosis that can be used to form treatment recommendations.” So that’s what they did; in 2013 they made the GD diagnosis, and in 2014 the Affordable Care Act required insurers to provide treatment for it.

A lot of trans people weren’t happy with the DSM task force’s decisions, such as the choice to keep “Transvestic Fetishism,” which is basically the autogynephilia theory, and just rename it “Transvestic Disorder”. The creation of the Gender Dysphoria diagnosis, basically, was designed to force the preventive care argument. They didn’t think they could win on trans healthcare being a necessity because healthcare is a human right, so they went with: Trans people have a very high suicide rate, and one way to bring it down is to help them transition. One of the major predictors of suicidality is dysphoria. The more dysphoric someone is, the more likely they are to attempt suicide (source).  Therefore, health insurers should fund treatment for gender dysphoria because it was cheaper than paying for emergency room admissions and inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations.

I have spoken to trans scientists about what research exists, and my understanding is: The dysphoria/no dysphoria split is not actually validated in the science. That is, when you research trans people, there is not some huge gaping difference between the experiences, or brains, of people With Dysphoria, and people Without Dysphoria. Mostly, scientists haven’t even thought it was an important distinction to study. The diagnosis wasn’t reflecting a strong theme in the research about trans experiences; that research showed that trans people with all levels of dysphoria were helped with medical transition. The biggest difference is just that dysphoria is a stronger risk factor for suicide. Experiencing transphobia is another strong risk factor, but that’s harder to measure in a doctor’s office, so dysphoria it was.

(I’ve seen some transmedicalists claim that dysphoria’s major feature is incongruence, not distress. And I’ll just say, uh… in psychology, “dysphoria” is the opposite of of “euphoria”, literally means “excessive pain”, and is used in many disorders to describe a deep-seated sense of distress and wrongness. As a mental health professional, I just can’t imagine most of my colleagues agreeing that something can be called “dysphoria” if the person doesn’t feel real distress about it. If you want a diagnosis that doesn’t demand dysphoria, you’d need Gender Incongruence in the upcoming version of the ICD-11, which is the primary diagnostic system used in Europe, published by the World Health Organization.)

2. Doctors are not magic

Medicine is a science, and science is a system of knowledge based on having an idea, testing it against reality, and revising that knowledge in light of what you learned. We’re learning and growing all the time.

I don’t know if this sounds painfully obvious or totally groundbreaking, but: Basically all medical research is done by people who don’t have the condition they’re writing about. Psychology has a strong historical bias against believing the personal testimonies of people with conditions that have been deemed mental disorders, so researchers who have experienced the disorder they’re writing about have often had to hide that fact, like Kay Redfield Jamison hiding that she had bipolar disorder until she became a world-renowned expert on it, or Marsha Linehan hiding that she had borderline personality disorder until she pioneered the treatment that could effectively cure it. Often, having a condition was seen as proof you couldn’t actually have a truthful and objective experience of it.

So what I’m trying to say is: The “gender dysphoria” diagnosis was written and debated, so far as I can tell, by entirely cis committee members. The vast majority of psychological and psychiatric research about LGBT+ people is written by cisgender heterosexual scientists. Most clinical and scientific writing has been outsider scientists looking at people they have enormous power over and making decisions about their basic existence with very little accountability.

And to show you how far we’ve come, I want to show you part of the DSM as it was from 1952 to 1973. It shows you just why so many older LGBT+ people find it deeply ironic that now the DSM is being held up as definitive of trans experience:

302 Sexual Deviation This category is for individuals whose sexual interests are directed primarily toward objects other than people of the opposite sex, toward sexual acts not usually associated with coitus, or towards coitus performed under bizarre circumstances as in necrophilia, pedophilia, sexual sadism, and fetishism. Even though many find their practices distasteful, they remain unable to substitute normal sexual behavior for them. This diagnosis is not appropriate for individuals who perform deviant sexual acts because normal sexual objects are not available to them.

302.0 Homosexuality 302.1 Fetishism 302.2 Pedophilia 302.2 Transvestitism […]

Yes, really. That is how psychiatry viewed us. At a time when research from other fields, like psychology and sociology, were showing that this view was completely unsupported by evidence, psychiatry thought LGBT+ people were fundamentally disordered, criminal, and incapable of prosocial behaviour.

My favourite retelling of the decades of activism it took LGBT+ people and allies to get the DSM to change is from a friend who did her master’s thesis on the topic, because she leaves in the clown suits and gay bars, which really shows how scientific and dignified the process was. The long story short is:  It took over 20 years of lobbying by LGBT+ people who were sick and tired of being locked up in mental institutions and subjected to treatments like electroshock training, as well as by LGBT+ social scientists, clinicians, and psychiatrists, to get homosexuality declassified as a mental illness. And that was homosexuality; the push to change how trans people were listed in the DSM is very recent, as seen in the latest version listing “Transvestic Disorder”, a description very few trans people ever use for themselves.

Here are a few more examples of how people with a condition have had to take an active part in the science about them:

When HIV/AIDS appeared in the USA, the government didn’t care why drug addicts and gay people were dying mysteriously. Hospitals refused to treat people with this mysterious new disease. AIDS patients had to fight to get any funding put into what AIDS is, how it spreads, or how it could be treated; they also had to campaign to change the massive public prejudice against them, so they could be treated, housed, and allowed to live. Here’s an article on the activist tactics they used. If you want an intro to the fight (or at least, white peoples’ experience of it), you could look into the movies How to Survive a Plague, And the Band Played On, and The Normal Heart.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) is a little-understood disease that causes debilitating exhaustion. It’s found twice as often in women as men. Doctors understand very little about what it is or why it happens, and patients with CFS are often written off a lazy hypochondriacs who just don’t want to try hard. There are basically no known treatments. In 2011, a British study said that an effective treatment for CFS was “graded exercise”, a program where people did slowly increasing levels of physical activity. This flew in the face of what people with CFS knew to be true: That their disease caused them to get much worse after they exercised. That for them, being forced to do ever-increasing exercise was basically tantamount to torture, so it was very concerning that health authorities and insurance companies began requiring that they undergo graded exercise treatment (and parents with children with CFS had to put their children through this treatment, or lose custody for “medical neglect”). So they investigated the study, found that it was seriously flawed, got many health authorities to reverse their position on graded exercise, and have made strides into pointing researchers to looking into biological causes of their illness.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a rare but debilitating disease that isn’t researched much, because it affects such a small portion of the population. The ALS community realized that if they wanted better treatment, they would need to raise the money for research themselves. In 2014 they organized a viral “ice bucket challenge” to get people to donate to their cause, and raised $115 million, enough to make significant advances in understanding ALS and getting closer to a cure.

A common treatment for Autism is Applied Behaviour Analysis (ABA), which is designed to encourage “desired” behaviours and discourage “undesired” ones. The problem is, the treatment targets behaviour an Autistic person’s parents and teachers consider desirable or undesirable, without consideration that some “undesired” behaviours (like stimming) are fundamental and necessary to the wellbeing of Autistic people. Furthermore, the treatment involves punishing Autistic children for failure to behave as expected–in traditional ABA, by witholding rewards or praise until they stop, or in more extreme cases, by subjecting them to literal electric shocks to punish them. (In that last case, they’ve been ordered to stop using the shock devices by August 31, 2020. That only took YEARS.) Autistic people have had to campaign loud and long to say that different treatment strategies should be researched and used, especially on Autistic children.

So I mean… I get that the medical model can provide an element of validation and social acceptance. It can feel really good to have people in white coats back you up and say you’re the real deal. But if you get in touch with most LGBT+ and transgender groups, they’d say that there’s still a lot of work to be done when it comes to researching trans issues and getting scientific and governmental authorities to recognize your rights to social acceptance and medical treatment.

Within a few years, the definition you’re resting on will turn to sand beneath your feet. The Great DSM Machine will begin whirring into life pretty soon and considering what revisions it has to make. You’ll have an opportunity to make your voice heard and to push for real change. So… do you want to be part of that process of pushing trans rights forward, or do you just want to feel loss because they’re changing your strict definition of who’s valid and who’s not?

3. Scarcity is not a law of physics

One of the major arguments I see transmedicalists push is that there’s only a limited number of surgeries or hormone prescriptions available, so it’s not okay for a non-dysphoric person to “steal” the resources that another trans person might need more. This makes sense in a limited kind of way; it’s a good way to operate if, say, you’re sharing a pizza for lunch and deciding whether to give the last slice to someone who’s hungry and hasn’t eaten, or someone who’s already full.

When you start to back up and look at really big and complex systems–basically anything as big, or bigger, than a school board or a hospital or a municipal government–it’s not a helpful lens anymore. Because the most important thing about social institutions is that they can change. We can make them change. And the most important factor in how much the world changes is how many people demand that it change.

I’ve talked about this before when it comes to homeless shelters, and how the absolute worst thing they can have are empty beds. I used to work in women’s shelters, which came about when second-wave feminists started seriously looking at the problem of domestic violence in the 1960s and 70s, It was an issue male-dominated governments and healthcare systems hadn’t taken seriously before, but feminists started heck and did research and staged demonstrations and basically demanded that organizations that worked for the “public benefit” reduce the number of women being killed by their husbands. Their research showed that the leading cause of death in those cases were when women tried to leave and their partners tried to kill them, so the most obvious solution was to give them someplace safe to go where their partners couldn’t find them. Therefore the solution became: Women’s shelters. When feminists committed to founding and running these shelters, local governments could be talked into giving them money to keep them running.

(Men’s rights activists, the misogynist kind, like to whine about “why aren’t there men’s shelters?” and the very simple answer is: Because you didn’t fight for them, you teatowels. Whether a movement gets resources and funding is hugely a reflection of how many people have said, “This needs resources and funding! Look, I’m writing a cheque! Everyone, throw money at this!” In other news, The BC Society for Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse does great work. People should throw money at them.)

When the system in power knows there are resources it wants and doesn’t have, it finds a way to make them appear. For example, in Canada, the government knows that it doesn’t have enough trained professionals living in its far North, where the population is scarce and not very many people want to live. Doctors and teachers would prefer to live in the southern cities. But because it’s committed to Northern schools and hospitals, they create incentives. For example, the government offers to pay off the student loans of teachers or health professionals who agree to work for a few years in Northern communities.

Part of why trans healthcare resources are so scarce is that for a long time, trans people were considered too small a part of the population to care about. Like, “Trans people exist, but we won’t have to deal with them.” Older estimates said 0.4% of the population was trans, which meant a city of 100,000 people would have 400 trans people. A single family doctor can have 2000 or 3000 clients, so the city could have maybe 1 or 2 doctors who really “got” trans issues, and all the trans people would tell each other to only go see those doctors because all the rest were assholes. And the cracks in the system didn’t really seem serious. A couple hundred dissatisfied people not getting the healthcare they needed? Meh! Hospital administrators had more to worry about!

But the trans population is growing. A recent poll of Generation Z said 2.6% of middle schoolers in Minnesota were some kind of trans. which is 2,600 per 100,000. That’s enough to make hospitals think that maybe the next endocrinologist or OB/GYN they hire should have some training in treating trans people. That’s enough to make a health authority think that maybe the state should open up a new gender confirmation surgery clinic, since demand is rising so much.

Or well, I mean. Hospitals have a lot on their minds. This might not occur to them as their top priority. They’d probably think of it a lot sooner if a bunch of those trans people sent them letters or took out a billboard or showed up by the dozens at a public meeting to say, “Hello, there are a fuckload of us. Budget accordingly. We want to see your projected numbers for the next five years.”

When you’re doing that kind of work, suddenly it hurts your cause to limit your number of concerned parties. Sure, limited focus groups or steering committees can have limited membership, but when you put their ideas into action, to protest something or lobby for political change, you need numbers. If you want to show that you’re a big and important group that systems should definitely pay attention to, you don’t just need every trans or GNC or NB person who’s got free time to devote to your campaign, you also need every cis ally who can pad out numbers or lick envelopes or hand out water bottles or slip you insider information about the agenda at the next board meeting. You need bodies, time, and money, and you get them best by being inclusive about who’s in your party. Heck, if it would benefit your cause to team up with the local breast cancer group because trans women and cis women who have had mastectomies both have an interest in asking a hospital to have a doctor on staff who knows how to put a set of tits together, then there are strong reasons to do it.

Basically: All the time any marginalized group spends fighting over scraps is generally time we could spend demanding that the people handing out the food give us another plate. If you don’t think you’re getting enough, the best answer isn’t to knock it out of somebody’s hands, but to get together to say, “HEY! WE’RE NOT GETTING ENOUGH!”

That kind of work is complicated and difficult! It’s definitely much harder than yelling at someone on Tumblr for not being trans enough. But if you do any level of getting involved with activist groups that fight for real systemic change, whether that’s following your local Pride Centre on Twitter or throwing $5 at a trans advocacy group or writing your elected representative about the need for more trans health resources, you’re pushing forward lasting change that will help everyone.

[kimnamjoonsrightthigh]

1.1/Friday afternoon/KNJ

Series Protector, protected

Part 2/?

Summary On your way home, you encounter someone in need of your help. Giving it earns you six new friends and one new enemy.

Genre(s) Drama, fluff, bit of angst, bit of antagonists to lovers, eventual smut, hurt/comfort.

Pairing Namjoon x Reader.

Warning(s) Alcohol consumption.

Tags Tourist!AU, reader is a clumsy brave idiot, Jungkook is everyone’s baby, possessive!Namjoon, this will be a long one.

Wordcount 1.5K.

A/N I’m new to the social media AU sphere and also not from the US, if anyone could recommend me an app or a program for good fake texting/insta/twitter, that’d be amazing and I would love you forever.

On Friday afternoon, you were frowning into your gin tonic. Ani slumped into her seat across the table from you. A sigh left her lips, which went unnoticed by you as you watched the ice cubes in your drink. She narrowed her eyes at you and your expression.

“Earth to Y/N,” she said slowly, “are you here with me?”

“Hmm.”

“I take that as a no.”

“Yeah.” You considered the glass in front of you critically, with a look so scathing that it was usually reserved for incompetent colleagues, or annoying plaintiffs. Diluting liquor, you mused, seemed like a waste of everybody’s time, and yet you couldn’t stand shots without a chaser. You wanted to cling to that train of thought, somewhere between cocktail recipes and youthful memories, but you couldn’t. Mentally, you were still stuck on the group you encountered last night, replaying the encounter in your head over and over again. Your regrets had launched you into a full-on anxiety spiral that morning. You should have insisted on going with them. You should have insisted they take Jungkook to the hospital. Hell, you should have at least given them your damn name so the cops would have a witness. Bottom line, you should have done anything that didn’t include you awkwardly shuffling your way out of there. You felt like an idiot even thinking about it, but you couldn’t not think about it, either, because you were simply too old to behave like a headless chicken.

“I’m hungry,” Ani said, picking up the menu again, “let’s split some nachos.”

You hummed a response. Nachos seemed like a good way to take the edge off before you ordered another gin tonic. And then another. With ice. Which was cold. Like nights usually were. Unlike last night, when you had left a group of helpless tourists standing in an alley on their own… damn it. You had almost managed to pull yourself out of it. Almost. You forced yourself to look at Ani, whose eyes were focused on something behind you. She shook her head before saying: “That dude is wearing two fanny packs. No, three. Tourist much?”

Your head whipped around so fast you almost snapped your own neck. Sure enough, there was Seokjin, digging into one of his many pockets while Namjoon was fiddling with his phone and Hoseok studied the menu board of a restaurant further down the street. You nearly fell out of your chair in disbelief. They were all there, all seven of them. Either you got heatstroke at lunch and were now hallucinating, or the universe was sending you a sign to make things right.

“Order the nachos, Ani,” you mumbled. Without acknowledging her answer, or considering your choices further, you pushed to your feet and started walking towards the men. You were a few feet away, heart hammering in your chest, when you called out Namjoon’s name. More than one head shot up. You scanned their faces quickly, and they all seemed okay. Jungkook’s bruises looked better in the daylight, too. A smile blossomed on your face as the relief crashed right through you. Hoseok and Jungkook smiled back at you.

“Hey, guys,” you said.

Namjoon’s expression was unreadable when he looked at you, the hint of a strained smile playing about his lips. “Hello, Y/N.”

“You all look alive. And kicking. That’s good.” You felt a familiar nervousness claw its way up your spine, settling at the back of your neck like an oversized memory. Your hand came up to brush your hair from your face, and you found it trembling a little. “How’re you, Jungkook?”

“I’m good, thanks.” There was that grin again, slightly mischievous, but mostly sweet. You had no idea how any self-respecting mugger could have picked him of all people as a victim.

“Good. Great, actually. I, uh, wanted to apologize for running out on you like that yesterday. I should have stayed. Did you end up going to the police?”

“We did,” Namjoon said, “They wanted to put out a call for witnesses when we couldn’t give them your name.”

You blushed at that, because of course they did, and you didn’t think of it. “Yeah. Again, I’m sorry. I’ll get down to the station next week.”

“Seven strangers late at night,” he replied, shrugging in lieu of mentioning what seven strangers late at night might be capable of, “I would have wanted to leave, too.”

“Oh no,” you were quick to assure him, “No, not that at all. Just… that was my first mugging, too. In a way. I’m just glad Jungkook is fine.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and you wondered if that was his defense or offense. “Jungkook is fine, alright. We’ve been his friends for years, we took care of him.” You raised an eyebrow at him, very inclined to meet his tone at least halfway. The underlying challenge was not lost on you.

“Except for the time you lost him, of course. His English is good, though, I’m sure he would have found his way back – eventually.” You noticed that the other six had taken a few steps back, Hoseok and Yoongi grinning at each other, the others looking away.

Namjoon’s jaw was working hard to contain whatever unfriendly things he was undoubtedly thinking. You watched a range of emotions cross his face before he managed to settle on a smile.

“Again, thank you for your help,” he said, clearly intending to end the conversation there. You were ready to accept that, knowing now that they were safe and well, when Jungkook put his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders from behind and mumbled something into his ear. You were close enough to hear that something was being said, but not what.

“Would you be open to us buying you dinner as a thank you?” Namjoon sighed. You perked up immediately.

“It would be my pleasure,” you practically purred. You never said no to free stuff, categorically. It was free stuff, after all. Also, during your day of self-inflicted mental torture about the fate of the seven strangers, you had found yourself curious about them, their dynamic, whether they had enjoyed their vacation so far. There were things you wanted, no, needed to know. You didn’t believe much in fate, but two chance encounters were one too many for even you to ignore. So before Namjoon could change his mind or grab Jungkook and make a run for it, you pulled your phone out and motioned for him to do the same. Seokjin seemed to put as much trust in Namjoon as you did, because you saw him typing while you recited your phone number out loud.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, “I can come pick you up if you want.”

When Namjoon smiled this time, it seemed almost genuine. “Our treat, so we’re picking you up.”

After a few more waves and bows and goodbyes that were slightly less awkward than before, you returned to your table from where Ani had been watching the situation unfold, always ready to intervene if you showed any kind of discomfort or alarm.

“Don’t tell me that was them,” she scoffed into her beer.

“Yep.”

“And when did your life become a romantic comedy?”

“There’s nothing romantic about it,” you protested immediately. “It’s called civic courage. My duty as a citizen.”

“You’re full of it, Y/N,” Ani said, “but they’re hot. Whoever Jungkook is, you should have carried him to the hospital bridal style and locked that shit down.”

“Shut up and mind your boyfriend instead of ogling tourists.”

“Getting possessive already, are we?”

 After running some much needed errands on Saturday morning and getting some even more urgent cleaning out of the way, you were contemplating your closet when your phone vibrated with a new notification.

“I have no time for more of your boyfriend drama, Ani…” you mumbled to yourself as you picked it up. It wasn’t Ani, however, it was Namjoon, confirming the dinner time.

“Ever the gentleman,” you told your empty bedroom, but texted back something affirmative anyways. The big question remained, what in the fuck am I going to wear? So far, “dinner” was all the information you had. That could mean anything from a pizza slice to an actual reservation. You didn’t know where, what, for how long, would there be dessert? Should you wear a dress, or a dress? Sneakers or boots, in case you had to walk? The uncertainty was stressing you out more than any meeting you’d had this week. You decided it was high time to call the cavalry, but then Ani didn’t pick up and you were left to your own devices once more. Frustrated, you flopped down onto your bed to scroll through some apps. Your messenger was still opened to the last message, and you figured even Namjoon wouldn’t find a reason to get annoyed at you over a simple question.

You groaned, burying your head in your comforter. He really had to make this harder than absolutely necessary – not that you had expected him to be actually helpful. But even without his expertise, you were dressed and ready when 7 came around and your doorbell rang.

[mooglesorts]

man. it's weird, because there's a lot of things about me that are Very Badger Primary, to the point where i would probably pick it with a strong bird model over anything else at this point... except that i hate dehumanization. i saw primaries described recently as 'things you wouldn't be you anymore if you went against,' and more than just about anything else that's it. even when i think people are monsters, i can't see them as not human; i'd be hard put to define exactly what i consider a 'monster,' but it's more about like. good faith than personhood, i suppose?

it's not necessarily a permanent status to be one--people can change--but my deeply held instinct is that once you have done something monstrous you will always be a person who has been a monster by your own choices, and that it's your duty to learn how to accept that while still living your life, and act accordingly from thereon out. you have to reconcile that you are a person with the fact that some doors are closed to you now, and it's up to you to decide what you do from there.

just. like. even when i hate someone and as far as i'm concerned they can go fuck themself, even in the multiple Heavily Badger social environments i've been in over the course of my life--church, progressive circles, the way the structure of the internet kind of just affects you in general--even on occasions where i've gotten swept away and given in to the pressure to dehumanize (or perform it) for a minute, there's always, always been a voice in the back of my head saying this is a person. this is a person. this is a person. this isn't right.

unintentional dehumanization sets off my '...should we really be doing this? we are getting into not good territory here, it's time to pull up and start questioning' alarms. explicit, intentional, purposeful dehumanization sets off the whole ass tornado sirens. if people on my side are doing it it's enough to throw me into a system-destabilizing crisis, because NO NO NO I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE, I WANT NO PART OF THESE PEOPLE'S MORAL SYSTEM, I FEEL UNCLEAN. it's a good way to make sure i will never, ever, ever trust someone again.

things that are Really Really Badger, off the top of my head (after the cut because Long and trauma talk):

[[MORE]]

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-i've always loved playing adoptable games, pet simulators, etc? any game with randomly generated characters that are Yours Now and a Community, in a deeply badgery way. including games where they can die (the satisfying part is making sure they don't). except that, no matter how much fun the gameplay is, if it gets to the point where they start feeling disposable, and the only way to really keep playing is to stop humanizing them, i lose interest. it's super fucking depressing. it feels like part of me dying inside a little. i don't like it at all.

-i've always been drawn to fandoms and roleplaying communities. i was fiercely loyal to, and proud of, my first rp community on dragoncave as a 13-year-old. when my abusive mom found out about it and completely isolated me for half a year, the promise of being able to make it back to them--just sneakier this time--kept me going; when i finally got back and the group had drifted apart in my absence, it.... was absolutely devastating. i never really recovered from it. even then, i spent years trying to get the group back together every now and then, until i finally gave up.

-i am always keenly, painfully aware of the life cycle of a community. every time i hear the sentiment 'you guys are all great and i love this group' my stomach drops, because i know it's only a matter of time before things go sour or the group dissolves. rp groups, skype chats/discord servers, fandoms, you name it, i am always bracing myself or staying away entirely to avoid the inevitable and it hurts. and it hurts to see people taking part in a community i don't dare be part of, which makes lurking in fandoms... really rough. frankly, it takes me a lot of courage every time i express my appreciation for the shc community because i've been burned so many times.

-on that note: i went through some really traumatic stuff at the end of 2020 that completely turned my life upside down, and i was doing bad until i stumbled across the shc community. the moment i started engaging, it was a huge boost to my mental health, and my ability to cope with circumstances under which i was about to break down spectacularly. and it has been ever since! contributing to The Group Project and seeing other folks being friendly with each other gives me the happy feelings.

-i used to go out of my way to build and run spaces, mainly fandom and rp spaces, and took a lot of pride in engineering them so that they Functioned Well. unfortunately it wore me the hell down over the years for Burnt Badger Reasons, and now i'm too jaded, bitter, and exhausted to give a shit about being a mod/community leader anymore because of it lmao

-among those burnt badger things i relate HARD to the Red Ledger narrative. hoo boy.

-i wish i could find it again, but there was an mlp comic i saw once which went into luna's observations of what each element of harmony Means. with the element of friendship, she says that twilight has a massive amount of love to give; right now it's all focused on celestia, but when she learns to expand it outward she'll have grown into her full potential as a person, and she'll change the world. that struck a chord with how i used to feel, hard, and it's really stuck with me ever since. (hello, unhealthy snake model)

-emphasis on 'used to feel,' lmao

-got super invested in a really toxic '''mental health''' community at a low point in my life; exploded HARD trying to help everyone i could; got into vicious, protracted fights with the shitty mods for years about the harmful way they ran their community until i finally managed to go 'fuck this it's not getting better' and leave.

-had to numb myself emotionally to the people around me for a long time once i really started learning about mental health and trauma stuff, because now i was seeing signs of their pain and baggage everywhere i looked, and i couldn't handle not being able to help.

-the imagery with which i think about my bird primary is overwhelmingly negative. whether it's my actual primary or a model, i uh. i feel like a healthy relationship to one's primary doesn't involve associating it with gore.

-i saw a conversation recently about how birds think of morality in terms of 'if you can, you should,' and how that's scary for badgers because their definition of 'can' involves destroying yourself for the sake of that 'should,' and... yeah, that's a mood. that's a BIG mood. thinking about bird primary stuff is hard--and i had to pick up my lion model to deal with it--because it's so easy for me to spiral into a self-shredding spiral of other people are counting on you to do the right thing, how dare you pull back for your own health and sanity. how dare you turn your back for even a minute. how dare you rest. the work is never done.

which is... a very exploded badger approach to exploded bird morality. whoops.

-fix-it and time travel fiction in which Everything Went Right This Time and It's Going to Be Okay are one of my very favorite self-indulgent fantasies. i will enjoy putting characters through the wringer in all kinds of creatively horrific ways which may or may not end on a downer note, certainly, i love that shit, but i will also 90% of the time have a backup version of the arc or dynamic that's softer and lighter and Actually Healthy This Time. it's the dichotomy there that really gets me tbh, a story where Everything Ends Happily by default will mmmaybe pull me in? but stories where there's the constant shadow of this could end horribly, it's supposed to end horribly, and we got a happy fucking ending anyway are just... that shit will make me cry, man.

it's also why i kind of really hate stable time loop stories where it initially looks like this is going to be The Good Timeline this time around, but OOPSIE everything went to shit anyway! we're right back where we started, just like it was meant to be all along! it's a tired cliche by this point and an unsatisfying one for me, and it makes me roll my eyes every time.

-this is relevant to the bird vs. badger because like... my gut instinct is to prioritize people over systems. when shit hits the fan, when someone's fallen into the machinery and is about to get hurt, i don't feel right about it if i just let it happen. i'll break the machinery if i have to to keep it away from them; i won't feel great about that, and it might cause problems, but fuck it, we'll figure it out later. throwing people into the gears of a system when i'm convinced it's the only option makes me feel Awful.

-related to the above, another trope that really speaks to me in fiction is when a character defies the rules of reality through sheer force of will. no, this is not happening, i don't give a shit what the limits are supposed to be. i refuse to let this be the way things are. (there's that lion model.)

-i've just kind of... always wanted to be an Everyone Badger. it makes me sad how much of that i've lost over the years as i've gotten more cynical, but it's what i wish i could be.

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doubtless i'll think of more the moment i hit send, and there are just as many things about me that are Super Bird Primary, but like... mamma mia that's some spicy badger. the main thing stopping me is the Can't and Refuse to Dehumanize bit. i also... hm. i think i can function okay without a community? they just help a lot, and it sucks when i'm confronted with one i don't have a (stable) place in. any thoughts? is it possible for a bird system's foundation to run so deep that eventually it overrides the bird?