#and to think this severe self loathing in terms of appearance came from the person who just gave me those compliments ; my mum

[kavehater]

“Look at you you’re such a doll you’re so cute and the things you talk about are so entertaining and lively and fun and you’re soft spoken with a soft heart it makes people want to stay with you …apart from when you complain”

THAAAANK YOU ! You see this is why I never speak. I have been hearing this complaint from everybody. Am I as a human being not allowed to be upset and complain about things ?! This is why I bottle everything up. Ykw it’s my fault for that because I AM easy to talk to so it invites everyone even those who are intolerant to everything. Let me get mad let me be upset and complain UGH.

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

[veryvincible]

If tony meets the criteria for ocd, why do you still say he doesn't have it? Not disagreeing just curious

Disclaimer again: I am not a mental health professional, I am simply a mental health advocate with many years of research under my belt, as well as lots of firsthand experience with the diagnostic process and other mental health-related incidences with the medical field (in America specifically). So, as always, feel free to look into it yourself if you’re interested in it, because there’s always discourse in the (very messy) field of psychology. Anyway, on we go.

The thing to remember here is that, with fictional characters, we don’t get to delve into their minds as much as we’d like to; internal monologue, as deep and complex and beautiful as it can be, is still a collection of words to define a mass of feelings, and these masses of feelings can be attributed to so, so many things. When a therapist diagnoses you, they get to ask funky questions like, “Do you feel like your thoughts and concerns spiral, and you’re helpless to stop them?” “Thinking back to your childhood, do you think you exhibited similar symptoms that you’re experiencing currently?” “Do you, personally, have an opinion about what may have been a catalytic event for you adopting this state of mind?” and all sorts of things. Though those are much more formally put than most questions I’ve been asked by therapists, the gist is basically the same-- they get to deep dive into your history, your mind, your self-awareness, your body language, your feelings... and you’re one cohesive person with a cohesive story. 

For comic book characters, we don’t get to delve into that. We don’t get to go, “Well, his childhood was like this, and that explains these behaviors! We can assume his panic response is Like This, and we can assume his attachment style is Like This, and we can assume his symptoms are Like This, and we can assume he feels Like This,” but those are all assumptions, and we can’t probe further. On top of that, most of them aren’t even intentional-- sure, yes, Tony Stark is a very sad man, and most writers make him this very sad man, but I can guarantee that most writers aren’t specifically looking into MDD and writing Tony accordingly. Some may be drawing from personal experience, others may be drawing from assumptions, etc. Whatever the case, Tony is not a cohesive man with a psychological timeline wherein one event leads to a developed response, consistently.

Above all else, diagnosis is a tool for treatment-- yes, it is excellent to be able to better understand yourself and feel the relief that comes along with this, but diagnosis came into being for the sake of medical professionals being able to say, “Hm, you’ve got [whatever]. I will go tell the other doctor you’ve got [whatever], so that guy can help you, because he specializes in [whatever], or you can try these home remedies for [whatever], or we can delve into [whatever] emotionally with talk therapy.”

Because diagnosis is a tool for treatment, you get these funky little footnotes in the DSM (which, again, is not the end-all, be-all, but when it comes to fictional characters, it’s totally fine) and other diagnostic tools that tell you “Even if you meet all these criteria, this diagnosis isn’t necessary if these symptoms would be better explained by something else!” because treating you for every psychological condition you qualify for could be rough on your body, it could end up with conflicting treatments (especially if you make incorrect assumptions, or if certain symptoms are stemming from different physiological factors despite appearing the same externally), and it’s just kind of tedious.

Like, you could potentially exhibit every symptom under the diagnosis of Generalized Anxiety, but if you have severe PTSD from long-term trauma that’s made you super jittery, it might be accepted that Generalized Anxiety wouldn’t be the best diagnosis for you, because ideally the treatment you’d receive for PTSD (trauma counseling, medication, etc.) would help with that.

I will say here that having an “umbrella diagnosis” under which other potential diagnoses could fall is not the same thing as having comorbid disorders; you probably know that already, but I’m going to say it anyway, just in case. Comorbidity involves overlap but separation of diagnoses, whereas the whole “Don’t diagnose your patient with [whatever disorder] if these symptoms are better explained by another thing!” happens more often when the entirety of one potential diagnosis fits under a section of another, more fitting diagnosis. So, if you see anyone with very long lists of diagnoses (probably don’t put big lists like that in your bios, though, please-- that seems kind of dangerous), that’s not a sign that they’re, like, mental illness-hoarding or whatever the fuck, despite that being a very common assumption that a lot of neurotypical people (and honestly, other mentally ill people) can have. Bodies like to be balanced. When one thing falls out of place, a lot of other things might follow. Just a disclaimer for you here, because I feel it’s important to say.

So, that covers... most of the reason why I don’t personally like to point to Tony as a character with OCD. First of all, sure, he has what could be considered obsessions and what could be considered compulsions, but we can’t actually ask him, “Hey, do you think these thoughts are obsessive? Are these potential compulsions things you perform ritualistically in order to make the obsessive thoughts go away?”

And... I don’t know. I think OCD (for me, specifically-- I know there are others with OCD whose opinions differ, and more power to them) is something that has to be written more intentionally for it to read as representation. Sure, they might have what could be intrusive thoughts... but my intrusive thoughts don’t just feel like thoughts that “could” be intrusive. They are intrusive, unmistakably. My compulsions don’t just feel like solutions to the problems I’ve made up or exaggerated in my head; they’re irrational, fear-based, anxiety-inducing. It’s the way you make sure every upstairs door is closed before heading downstairs, because otherwise you get a tightness in your chest and you can’t focus or breathe quite right; or the way you get up out of bed to make sure your door is locked multiple times just in case you forgot; or the way you develop avoidant tendencies or overly communicative tendencies because if you don’t, the ramifications within your relationships could be unbearable. It’s having a voice inside your head that’s not just telling you you’re a monster, the perfect antithesis to everything you’ve ever held dear; it’s a voice inside your head that is the monster, a voice that sounds the same as your own, simultaneously overprotective of your well-being and overly interested in the total destruction of your person.

And... I’m not saying Tony doesn’t experience that. He clearly has this feeling of “I am a monster” inside of him. He clearly has that feeling due to what he perceives as his own shortcomings. But these are comic books, and though there are many ways you could introduce intrusive thoughts in an internal monologue, we don’t really get that with Tony as much as I’d need to in order to feel represented by him. We don’t get him thinking shit like, “You could abandon this all, you could leave this shit to the rest of the team, you could fuck off and live on an island somewhere else, you could hole yourself up in a room and never leave, you could kill them, you could kill him, you could kill everyone, you know for a fact you have the resources to kill everyone, don’t you want to make sure? What if your tech fails? What if you do kill everyone? What would happen, huh? How would that look? How would that feel? What do you think it would feel like to pick up their bodies, to look in their eyes and have nothing staring back at you? You could tell him you hate him. Not to save him from you, no-- you could just do it because you’re able to do it, because you’ve cultivated these relationships and you’ve fooled everyone into loving you despite knowing you don’t deserve it. You’ve tricked them, and every day you continue on like this you’re manipulating them, and you’ve taken so much from them-- they’ve put so much of themselves in your hand that you could so, so easily crush if you just took a second and did it.”

... And we don’t get the accompanying monologue of, “No, god no, what the fuck, that’s not who I am, that’s not who I want, I’m not like that, I love them, that can’t be who I am, if that’s who I am then what does that say about me, what does that say about the space I take up, what does that make me?”

Which is where the OCD version of “I am a monster” tends to originate-- the inherent inability to separate oneself from the illness, the difficulty in coping with an overactive survival mechanism ready to ensure you’re prepared for every single thing that could go wrong, very specifically the things you’re most worried about, because that’s what matters, right? The things you’re worried most about. And Tony’s most worried about love, about his loved ones, about the planet, about life.

But “I am a monster” doesn’t imply that internal monologue. “I am a monster” could be a legitimate analysis of what he’s been through and what he’s done, clouded by self-loathing instilled in him by his father. “I am a monster” could be something he’s thought since he was younger, not because of any specific symptoms he developed, but because of what he was told-- because he was told he was wrong, bad, unlovable.

I think Tony could get there. I think I honestly may have written Tony there at some point, just because it’s easy to write for me. But if we’re following standard diagnostic procedures with a man on a page who really hasn’t been written intentionally with anything other than substance abuse, symptoms of PTSD, and depression... I don’t know. It doesn’t read like OCD to me. It doesn’t feel like OCD to me, and if at any point it did, I think that would be more of me filling in blanks with my own experiences than it would be anything else.

(There is one canonical instance of “I could kill this person right now if I wanted to!” level intrusive-ish thoughts I can think of off the top of my head, and that is in the most recent Iron Man run, and that also doesn’t read like OCD to me because, honestly, nothing Cantwell writes with regards to mental health seems natural or authentic or accurate. Also, I don’t know if it really qualifies as an intrusive thought if it feels more like a justified outburst of rage to the character thinking it, so, uh. Hmm.)

[monchikyun]

XIX. never let me go

Connor would love nothing more than to just initiate stasis and enjoy the current moment, the same way Gavin does. Seemingly at peace, the man clings to his body like the android is his favourite teddy-bear. His heart-rate is steady, breathing is even. No nightmares are raging behind those closed eyes, and Connor can’t help but feel a bit jealous. Not of Gavin, specifically, but people in general. People who have the ability to sleep and let themselves be carried to a world of their mind’s own creation. Sure, it might not always be a pleasant experience, but no matter what one’s brain decides to show its owner, they still have the ability to escape the reality of their waking life. Connor’s version of a shut-eye is nothing like the one in which humans get to lose themselves. When he enters his so-called sleep-mode, everything just… stops existing to him. It’s more like a small, temporary death. He can’t believe that several months ago he wished to never leave that state, to be allowed to interrupt himself from living, permanently. 

Not just then, though. It’s not like he didn’t hold his gun close to his then active LED only days before the start of December. It’s not like he still doesn’t fantasise about the sweet embrace of the eternal void at times when there's nothing or no one to distract him. 

Like now. Although he technically has a company right next to him, accumulating their mutual heat, he senses he’s missing out on something important. Due to Connor being a machine, there are many things they won’t be able to do together, and he thinks that it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to try and force himself to adapt his being to that of his partner’s. Gavin wouldn’t most likely appreciate it if Connor went ahead and got himself some of the new updates that have been designed to make android appear more organic anyway. 

He quite likes his own body, likes that he doesn’t have to waste money that he doesn’t have on food and other necessities he can function without.  

Gavin shifts, though almost imperceivably, still, he strokes the side of his face, relishing in the warm tickling of his breath against his bare neck. As he’s now, all safe and almost tranquil, all he can contemplate about is their possible future. His own demise hasn’t even crossed his mind. It hasn’t done so in a while, maybe not since their first proper hug. Having a close, nurturing relationship is one of the healthiest things one can do for themselves, he is well aware of this fact, but that doesn’t mean that all his previous doubts are suddenly gone. 

They haven’t even talked about what they wanted to call each other. To Connor, the title of a best friend is more than enough. He doesn’t need anything else. Maybe he’d like it, but it’s far from being a priority. Things are near perfect as they are. As long as they’re together… a condition which presents the biggest issue. The ugly truth that he’s been trying to hide from. 

His entire mental stability depends on the presence of one person. He realises that’s wrong and probably dangerous, still, he doesn’t care. Why shouldn’t he rely on someone for happiness, isn’t that what humans have done since the beginning of their time on Earth? Seek out company and with that, reassurance?  

Connor is no different. He just needs someone to stay close, and the right person just happens to be his irritable partner. 

He wants to say that he’s certain that Gavin won’t ever let him go, but how can he be, really. Anything can happen. The man can die tomorrow and then what would Connor do. Look for another company like a dog that has lost its master? No, he thinks himself pathetic enough that he would just give up on everything, including any and all socialisation. The pathway towards leaving this bane of existence would be wide open to him, and he would be more than willing to step on it. It has been terrifying enough seeing the possible funereal of his soulmate and now he’s back on a similar track of thoughts. He should be used to it by now, to his inner unrest and all the gunk that comes with it, but he still can’t keep calm, not even a semblance of it. He lets himself spiral down to the horror-infested basement of his mind too easily, and getting himself out is all but simple.  

Luckily, there is help available right beside him, currently beginning to stir lightly in his arms. Maybe he could make it into a valid excuse for waking him up. 

“Gavin.” He starts with a quiet whisper, not enough to disturb even the lightest of sleepers. 

The man mumbles something that has little to do with any words known to men and takes a breath through his nose, a sign that his first attempt might have been successful after all.

“Are you still asleep?” Connor dares to increase the volume of his voice, hoping to make his awakening as pleasant as could be, while not appearing to be the selfish one who would interrupt his well-needed rest just because he feels a bit sad. Or scared. Panicked, perhaps. He can’t really tell, emotions are not really his area of expertise. He just knows that he can’t focus on anything but the turmoil of bleak images overwhelming his entire self. There are tears forming in his eyes, his first natural response to everything that reminds him of the finality of death. He really is weak, isn’t he. A weak little robot not coming to terms with the concept that is the circle of life. 

“You tryin’ to suffocate me?” comes a small, breathless question, bringing him back to the grungy motel room that has become their safe haven for these past several days. 

He can’t relate the words to anything that’s presently happening, at least not for a couple of seconds. Then he notices that he has been clutching Gavin to his own body using too much strength without a conscious choice to do so. He immediately releases the struggling man, giving him a needed space to catch his breath. The loss of direct contact makes him almost shiver with something unidentifiable, like there’s ice forming on those places that were being warmed by human touch. His eyes are darting everywhere but his friend, hands gripping the sheets like he needs to hold onto something lest he floats away. The unspoken apology stuck in his throat, stubbornly refusing to get out of there.

It's not the first time he goes through something like this, though there is usually no one around to witness this inconvenient state of mind. He isn’t sure what to call this, not sure if it really matters.

 Right now, he's just immensely grateful that there is someone with him. He loathes having to deal with it on his own. 

"What's wrong?" the man in question asks, careful gentleness embedded in his voice. He places his palm on Connor's shoulder ever so tentatively, like the android has suddenly lost his integral structure. If he has, he'd need every bit of support to rebuild it back. A small touch like that is not nearly enough. But he takes what he can get. 

"More visions?" 

"I… I don't know. Just… I think telling you about the accident broke something in me. I can't… I can't stop picturing all the worst scenarios and… it hurts. I keep preconstructing both mine and your death and it’s making me go crazy." 

Gavin puts his arm around his shoulders before he finishes talking. He immediately leans into the contact, being glad that for once he is able to abstain from crying. 

"Maybe you weren't ready to-" 

"No, no I'm glad I told you. It's not that." 

He assumes time has little to do with his current situation. It's been almost a year and the pain still drowns him. Not always, but as soon as he's about to forget, something grabs his leg and pulls him deep under. 

He gathers his courage and pulls Gavin into yet another embrace. He really must have been touch-starved, only now getting his supply of what would be the android equivalent of oxytocin. 

"I'm sorry to say this but I came to the conclusion that…" he pauses to second guess his confession, only to decide that revealing this part of himself would only be advantageous to his healing process in the long run. 

"I need you."

 It surprises him how easily those words have come out. How it doesn't make Gavin's body flinch in the slightest. 

"I realise that it's not right nor fair, but-" 

"Shhhh," he places his hand on Connor's mouth, like that would stop him from vocalising his sentiments. Still, it takes him off guard and he obliges, "Shut up, Con." 

This time it's Gavin who does the squeezing. 

"I get it, I get it."  His reassurance strokes his soul and drapes it in budding calmness. 

“I’m never letting you go, I promise.” He isn’t sure what exactly Gavin means by that, but it still turns the unsightly pain inside of him into something less so. Something he would dare call beautiful.

“Hell, you’re only a one-year-old, of course you need someone to look after you.” That manages to elicit a chuckle out of him, which in turns makes Gavin place a sweet kiss on his cheek. 

Connor thought that he’s given the man all the love that he has before he finds out that feelings aren’t a constant. 

Love always changes, always shifts around. In his case, it’s growing like a garden blessed by spring’s good weather. He’s one of the lucky ones, ones who are able to keep its light-source near. 

It’s hard not to smile now when he finally understands. And why wouldn't he, really, when the world sits within his arms.

-----

it seems this fic is 50% two broken idiots in bed thinking, occasionally talking, and when we’re lucky, snuggling

[missjosie27]

Prompt Response #40- Ethren Whitecross

“Would it really be a crime to let yourself have some fun once in a while?”

The first in the responses for the prompts. I will say in advance that not all of this may make sense or appear ‘canon’. It’s also a sequel to ‘The Other World’ a story I wrote awhile back in honor of Ethren Whitecross. What first started out as a fun concept between two MCs, I turned into this for better or worse. And it was tough at times emotionally. But I poured my heart and soul into it. It is also non-canon and completely AU. That being said, I do love the multiverse and this was a great way to explore that.

@hogwartsmysterystory​ My friend. This is for you. And for Ethren. I hope you like it.

It had taken many moons for David Grant to achieve what was previously thought to impossible: the ability to hop dimensions at will. Since the end of the war and his mind blowing foray into the universe that housed another curse breaker, the twenty five year old not only joined the Department of Mysteries part time in addition to being reinstated as an Auror but began exploring the power of the veil for more timelines.

It was partially due to self interest, which his boss Croaker didn’t need to know about. Happy to further the Department’s investigations of the unknown magical branches, the experience of visiting another world had touched him so deeply David resolved to do more investigating: specifically if there were any other scenarios involving Ethren Whitecross in which he did not die. Despite technically never meeting the American, he already felt a sense of kinship with him, a kind of surreal connection one couldn’t explain in so many words.

He deserved better...so much better

Many months passed, but at last David was able to tinker with the magical properties of the veil so that it revealed a wondrous discovery: the cosmos was damn well infinite. Billions of people making billions of choices creating infinite earths. And it didn’t take long for him to discover a timeline in which Ethren was still alive and in Hogwarts.

“Hang on, mate. I’m coming,” he said as he stepped through, making sure his protections were sufficient to protect him from the other realm the veil lead to: death.

Of course, David had never actually met Ethren for obvious reasons and so had no idea what to expect from him. The only aspects of his life he knew for certain were that he was American, died in the war, engaged in a relationship with Merula and unknowingly had a son in the process. The other timeline’s Merula had given him more grisly details, but nothing so specific as to his personality, likes, dislikes, or anything else.

As it turned out, much to his chagrin, Ethren Whitecross was a bit sour to say the least.

He was short for a male, only 5’6 but with intense, clear blue eyes to go along with caramel brown hair and conventionally attractive features. He wasn’t terribly athletic but could swing a beater’s bat well enough. Similar to himself however, Ethren was a top notch dueler and excelled in the subjects he genuinely enjoyed, but struggling in those he did not care for. However, his less than sunny disposition was certainly off putting and it didn’t take long to figure out why.

“So let me get this straight,” Ethren said skeptically as they lay on the shores of the lake at Hogwarts. “You’re from another universe where my family never existed and in my universe your family never existed. Like me, you’re an amateur cursebreaker, date Merula, and apparently need to warn me about my impending death? Do I have everything correctly?”

“Uh, yeah that pretty much sums it up,” came the response.

Unfortunately for David, he had stumbled into a timeline where Ethren was completing his 7th year at Hogwarts as opposed to being a full grown adult. But it was just as well, finding Ethren was easy given his reputation. Getting him to believe his story was quite another debacle altogether.

“Well, guess what, you’re a bit too late. I already know I’m dying from my blood malediction and that R still wants to kill me. By the way, thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. A paper cut with lemon juice would have sufficed.”

He got up to leave but David moved to stop him.

“Wait, wait, hear me out. I can explain everything in a bit more detail.”

“Or I could go back to the library and read.”

David scoffed.

“More like you would brood all day.”

Ethren flushed from indignation.

“And how would you know that?”

“Believe me, I know enough...look I’m just trying to help.”

“My cranky on and off girlfriend is a bigger help than you’re being right now and that’s saying something.”

David took a breath of the evening Scotland air and breathed out. He should have known it wouldn’t be this easy, but that last statement left an uneasy sensation in his stomach. He remembered vividly a drunken twenty six year old Merula wanted by the law while drowning herself in vodka tonics and narcissistic self loathing. He was beginning to see just how much of an emotional toll she was taking on the poor lad. So he decided to switch gears.

“Look, I have an idea. Classes are done for the day right, you’re a legal wizarding adult...come hang out with me for a couple hours.”

“I can’t leave Hogwarts,” Ethren shot back.

“Right, since when did Dumbledore’s rules ever stop us from leaving whenever we wanted?”

“Point taken but still no.”

“By God, Would it really be a crime to let yourself have fun once in a while?” David half laughed in amazement. “Trust me, let’s go have a good time and I’ll explain everything afterwards, alright?”

He didn’t think it would work given the clear suspicion still lurking in those blue eyes but to his surprise, Ethren relented and nodded.

“Fine.”

“You can apparate right?”

“Yes and I can also blow you to smithereens if you try anything funny.”

“You know part of me does want to know what would happen if we ever dueled,” David grinned. “However, I went through a war mate. Got a bit of a head start on ya.”

“Fantastic.”

“And here I thought we Brits were the uptight and sarcastic ones. Aren’t Yanks supposed to be expressive?”

Ethren simply snorted and walked past him into the open field.

“Be thankful I’m saying anything at all.”

The two young men walked until they reached the boundaries of the school just beyond the entrance, David leading the way.

“Follow my lead,” he said. “Unless you can’t keep up,” he added teasingly.

“Just go,” came the grumpy response.

Bollocks, this is going to be harder than I thought David mused to himself with exasperation

And with a loud *pop they apparated into the sunset.

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

It didn’t take long for the two to land in random cobblestone street with Ethren keeling over, grimacing severely.

“Yeah I hate apparation too,” David said, pulling out a flask and taking a sip. “You get used to it.”

“I only recently passed.”

“Fair. Which is why where I’m taking you next will simultaneously relieve that discomfort and get you to loosen up.”

Ethren looked up and saw a wooden sign in maroon lettering which read the words ‘The Mayfair.’

“A bar?”

“Never underestimate the value of a pub,” David told him sagely. And before the younger lad could object he pushed him inside the door.

Inside was a setting not altogether spectacular. There was a small dining area, a large bar that spanned about fifty feet with two bulky TVs that currently were playing the latest football matches. However there was also a small staging area that contained a microphone with another TV sitting overhead. A sizable crowd graced its floors- a hodgepodge of young professionals, crusty regulars, football fans, and those who were just looking for a good time. Which was precisely why they were there.

In his time after Hogwarts and during the war David found that muggle bars offered a lot more in terms of entertainment and alcohol: a primary factor in why he chose a casual London pub as opposed to a place like the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles also tended to write better music which was also key to this night.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t in robes,” Ethren said above the general chatter of the pub.

“I made sure your classes were over before we came here,” David replied. His own dress was unremarkable: brown leather boots, jeans, jacket, and a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt (they were the most popular band in the world in the late eighties/early nineties after all). They fit right in.

David dragged Ethren over to the counter and caught the attention of the barkeep, knowing full well that in England you never got carded for ID as they did in America.

“Two Guinnesses please.”

“You got it.”

He flipped a couple of pounds and soon enough was presented with two full tankards of the dark stout.

“Cheers, mate,” David told him, clinking his glass with Ethren’s.

The twenty five year old relished the taste but clearly his counterpart did not, grimacing as though he had swallowed stinksap.

“Dear God that’s awful. Why do you drink this stuff?”

“Keep sipping and you’ll find out,” came the cheeky reply.

Ethren merely shrugged and did his best to keep drinking. David peered around and saw the exact person he wanted to see: the DJ.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

For his part, Ethren Whitecross was highly confused by this whole affair. He still wasn’t sure he believed that this person, whoever they were, was supposedly a dimension traveler who’d apparently met another version of himself by accident. It was just too insane to believe. And yet somehow he knew details about his life that no one else popping up like that could know.

And now he wants to just drink our night away at a bar? What is this guy about?

Indeed, that appeared to be the most intriguing aspect of this. David Grant apparently not only came back to warn him but to spend time together as if they were old friends. Ethren wasn’t sure how he felt about that just yet given that R was still after him however this fellow didn’t appear to be unseemly...yet anyway. For now, he decided to keep drinking the beer, which oddly enough began to make him feel a bit warm and fuzzy in the head.

Soon enough David returned a big grin on his face.

“Finish that up soon. We’re on next.”

“Next for what?” Ethren asked, utterly nonplussed.

“My friend you are about to experience the wonders of karaoke.”

“Kara-what?”

David laughed, deep and true then drained his beer in one gulp.

“You’re about to find out.”

Ethren found himself dragged away to the staging area where they were handed two microphones and a pair of spotlights shone down on them.

“Should have asked this beforehand but how familiar are you with muggle music?”

“Umm not very?” came the unenthusiastic answer.

“Do you know ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel?”

Ethren nodded. His father kept a collection of old muggle records at home and that was a song played quite frequently sometimes to his chagrin.

“Yeah, I know that one.”

“Smashing. We’ll be just fine.”

The crowd started to cheer as the opening piano chords began to play. Ethren squirmed uncomfortably but David put a strong hand around his shoulder and began to sing in earnest. There was no backing out now.

“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday

The regular crowd shuffles in

There’s an old man sitting next to me

Making love to his tonic and gin”

Ethren had to admit that this stranger sang well, but he wasn’t so much of a musician himself. But he had no choice as the microphone was pressed into his face.

“He said son can you play me a melody

I’m not really sure how it goes

But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete

When I wore a younger man’s clothes”

The young Gryffindor understood better why the beer was necessary. One drink already had him buzzing but it sure loosened inhibitions. Slowly he began to enjoy himself as he belted the chorus alongside David.

“Sing us the the song, you’re the piano man

Sing us the song, tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

To Ethren’s amazement the crowd began cheering despite the fact his pitch was probably way off. Apparently it didn't matter how good or bad you were at actualling singing, enthusiasm for the song and the camaraderie of the patrons was enough to send everyone into a frenzy. Feeding off that energy, the two young men sang into the Scotland night, following the lyrics with gusto.

“Sing us the song, you’re the piano man

Sing us the song, tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

The last of the harmonica sounded off into the exit riff of the piano and the song was over. Ethren could hardly believe it ended so fast, but the cheers of the crowd were practically deafening. Indeed the feeling was so exhilarating, he almost didn’t notice the shadowed face of his counterpart, lines of worry practically melting off his face.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only cursebreaker that had problems.

Afterwards, the two sat down and drank a few more beers, which were on the house due to their riveting performance. Several regulars gave them cheers and pats on the back. The two chatted about a number of things, but it wasn’t until they stepped outside for a breath of fresh air that the conversation turned honest and even somber.

David lit a cigarette and took a long inhale before issuing smoke.

“Told ya I knew how to have fun.”

“Maybe I wasn’t the only one in need of it,” Ethren observed astutely.

The older man shrugged but tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been through…a lot,” he said simply. “Moments like the one in the bar are the kind that kept me going over the years. It’s what makes life so wonderful even when it’s not.”

Ethren paused before asking.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five to be exact. Twenty six in four months.”

“You look five years beyond that.”

It was blunt but David knew by now Ethren didn’t pull punches. He could relate to that. Neither did he.

“I didn’t come back merely to warn you about your malediction, Ethren,” he said quietly. “You beat that.”

“So...I die another way?”

David swallowed, feeling a lump pop up in his throat. Now was not the time to get super emotional. He needed to tell the truth.

“You have a relationship with Merula just as I do, yeah?”

“I do. Though I can’t say it’s always a happy one. We either bicker or just end up making out half the time.”

The older man chuckled sardonically, knowing full well what his wife was like when she was sixteen.

“Sounds about right. Believe me, I know how she is sometimes.”

“You’re at least eight years older than I am right now….what happened with you and her?”

David knew this was the moment he came back for. The essence of his visit.

“We married after Hogwarts. During the war, she was kidnapped by her parents and placed under the imperius curse. I was able to free her during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Ethren’s eyes were practically popping out of their sockets.

“Wait, wait back up. There’s a war? Merula becomes a Death Eater?”

“Let me explain,” David said, raising his hands in the air whilst also flicking his cigarette. “Yes, You Know Who will return in four years time and begin a new war against the Ministry. And no, my wife did not become a Death Eater. She was shanghaied against her will. At that point in her life, she wanted nothing to do with her parents. Can you say the same for yours?”

Ethren’s head was practically spinning at this newfound revelation. He felt a desperate need to sit down but remained standing, running a hand through his caramel locks.

“She...she would never.”

“If you believe that, you’re wrong. If Merula doesn’t break off her toxic relationship with her parents, she’ll go right back to them once they’re freed from Azkaban.”

Denial morphed into pain as the younger man shook his head.

“Why...why would she do that?”

“You know as well as I do how badly she wants their approval and how it affects her judgement. My Merula made the right choice, but I also helped her to see what kind of path she was heading in. You must do the same.”

“And what happens if I don’t?”

In a reversal of moods, David’s hazel blue eyes bore into Ethren’s crystal blue ones, hardening with each passing second, though there was still tremendous sympathy.

“I will not lie, however the answer will be difficult for you to hear. You will each find yourself on the opposite side of the coming conflict and Merula will realize her error far too late. In the end, you will sacrifice your life for hers during a great battle. And as a result, a son will never know his father.”

Tears were forming into Ethren’s eyes and David was trying his best not to do the same though it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“W-what...what should I do?”

“Guide her,” David responded softly. “Show her that there is a better way to happiness than simply attaining power. Help her to see that she can trust people unconditionally and that those people are not her parents….especially her mother,” he added with a heavy hint of disgust.

“I don’t know if I can,” the teenage Gryffindor said, his voice still wavering. “She won’t listen to me. She never has.”

“She will. I guarantee it.”

David stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ethren, embracing him in a hug while silent tears fell from his eyes.

“You can do it, Ethren. I’ve seen war, I’ve seen death, and I’ve seen a world where a family was ended before it began. Trust me when I say this, you and Merula Snyde are meant for each other for better or worse. And if I can do my part to ensure you end up happy instead of six feet under, I damn well won’t hesitate.”

They broke apart with both men wiping their eyes.

“Bloody alcohol,” David joked.

“I think I’ll hold off on any more beers.”

The older man placed a hand on Ethren’s shoulder though this time he did not hug him but instead gave a final guiding message.

“I made a promise to thank you for what you did for my wife and to honor your memory. This way, I can do both. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Now go break your malediction, defeat R, and live the life you deserve.”

Ethren nodded, finally gaining back control of his emotions but also feeling a deeper sense of purpose as well as gratitude to this stranger.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said somewhat lamely, cursing his lack of ability to express his feelings properly.

“You’ll never have to,” David responded kindly. “Consider it a favor from one friend to another.”

He released Ethren’s shoulder and nodded with a smile.

“Now let’s get you back to Hogwarts. If memory serves, I believe curfew should be soon. Don’t want Snape catching you out of bed.”

Ethren gave a smile of his own.

“Since when has Dumbledore’s rules stopped us?”

David laughed one more time before they disapparated with a small *pop.

“Never.”

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

Merula Snyde did not like feeling guilty. It was a useless emotion better left for fools who believed in sentimentality and other such nonsense. But when it came to one special boy, her heart could not help serve as a constant reminder of how much she mistreated him. Such as their fight from earlier that morning.

Working late into the night in the library, the ambitious Slytherin had poured through book after book and page after page in order to see if there was anything about maledictions they hadn’t already discovered or knew about thus far. In a sense, it was her attachment to Whitecross and their past experiences together that drove her to do as she did. There was no need to say that you cared, that’s what saving him from his blood curse was for. Even so, the young Slytherin couldn’t avoid the guilt or her memories.

“Why do you do this?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Whitecross. Spit it out.”

The Gryffindor clenched his fists but then let out a sigh and then unclenched them as they stood outside in the corridor near Charms.

“You claim you’re on my side but not once do you ever take responsibility for your own shortcomings. Nothing is ever your fault or a bad idea. Is it your job in life to torture me?”

Merula snorted as she dismissed him yet again.

“You torture yourself enough all on your own. If there was a shred of common sense in that empty head of yours, you’d acknowledge that you don’t have the bollocks to take out R same as it was with Rakepick. I’m not going to apologize for speaking the truth.”

Ethren usually swept aside her barbs no problem but this one appeared to hit home in a way her usual ones did not. He took her hand in his.

“Merula, I don’t know that I can call you my girlfriend anymore...I’m not sure what we are. But...those feelings we have won’t just go away. Why can’t you just at least pretend you care about me?”

But his appeal to her better senses fell flat as she withdrew her hand and gave a hard stare with her vivid, violet eyes.

“If you want a hug, Whitecross go to Haywood. Don’t waste my time.”

And without another word, she spun around in her combat boots and walked off not bothering to see the pained reaction on his face.

Merula clenched her jaw as the remorse became almost overwhelming. Why? Why was she like this? It wouldn’t kill her to throw the poor blighter a bone now and then, right?

“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered aloud.

A second voice entered her mind, one that was hauntingly familiar.

You should know better. There are no such things as happy endings. The only person anyone can rely on is themselves….

The voice became disturbingly soothing.

You’re special my little blackbird. I will always love you

Merula resisted the urge to cry as she planted her face on one of the many books layed out in front of her. She did not care if Madam Pince yelled at her for staying too late. Wallowing within her inner demons outweighed any potential punishment.

“I never realized the true depth of your self loathing narcissism until much later in life,” spoke a voice. It frightened her so much, that she jumped at least a foot in the air and wheeled around, wand in hand.

Standing by the window of the library was a young man, light beard, longish brown hair, tall, wearing a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, brown boots, and a dark cloak. He wore his hoodie up and so could not see the face clearly. Nevertheless, she kept her wand trained on him.

“Who are you and what do you want? I promise I’m the last witch you want to mess with,” she snarled.

“My identity is inconsequential. As for what I want, I only wish to impart a gift.”

Merula did not believe a word of what this stranger said and had half a mind to hex him if it wasn’t for the fact that damaging the library in such a manner was a bannable offense.

“Whatever the intentions, you picked a really bad spot. Don’t you know where you are? Madam Pince will disembowel anyone who mucks about in here...of course she won’t have the honor of doing so before I do.”

A condescending chuckle emanated from underneath the hood.

“I have a silencing charm and a protective ward around this area. We won’t be interrupted I assure you. In any case, what I have planned isn’t going to take long.”

The teenage Slytherin silently checked the magical energies around her and realized he was right. Those kinds of wards were only the kind powerful Aurors knew or worse. All of a sudden, real fear entered Merula’s bones though she did her best to hide it.

“W-What are you going to do? What is this?”

The figure did not move, only uttering a single sentence.

“The day you finally understand.”

He was too quick for her to react properly, so fast was the draw of his wand. There was an incantation she didn’t recognize and a jet of white light that struck her in the forehead.

A swarm of images flashed through Merula’s mind and she was forced to witness every single one of them: two teenagers triumphing over an evil organization, an emotional breakup, darkness arising in the British wizarding world, an escape from Azkaban, a young woman kneeling before the Dark Lord, a night of raw passion, the birth of a child, and finally the scene of a young man with an arrow lodged in his chest, a despondent woman in Death Eater robes sobbing over the lifeless body.

‘Ethren! Ethren! ETHREN! PLEASE! DON’T GO!!!’

Then just as quickly as they came the images were gone and so was the unknown figure. Only a reeling and emotionally fragile young woman who had only one thought on her mind.

“Ethren,” she breathed out.

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

The young Gryffindor teen was slightly annoyed as Jae told him someone was waiting outside the tower for him. Who on earth was so desperate to talk to him this late at night? Did they not have the password or some other such nonsense? He wasn’t in the mood for a prank.

As he stepped past the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, his questions were answered right away as a mess of brown hair with an orange tuft slammed into him.

“What the- Merula?”

“Ethren,” she whispered as she clung to him for dear life. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Utterly shocked, Ethren separated himself ever so slightly, still holding her in arms and looked into beautiful, violet eyes; eyes that were swimming with tears.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For everything...I didn’t realize...I didn’t know…”

Words failed her as she pressed her lips against his. Ethren didn’t hold back, returning the passionate kiss, long and deep. Fireworks were exploding in his mind.

When they broke apart, he saw she was still crying but there was also the same determination that sparkled in the orbs he’d come to love for better or worse.

“Things are going to be different from now on...I promise. I love you,” she said.

Ethren traced a finger along her soft, porcelain cheek, taking in the small freckles that dotted her adorable nose. He’d never felt so amazing, so enamored with the girl in front of him.

“I love you, too.”

As they embraced once more, Ethren Whitecross couldn’t help but think of the man who’d changed his life in one fell swoop. The one who’d gotten him to simultaneously sing karaoke and drink Guinness on the most memorable night of his young life. He smiled as he took in the scent of cloves, nail polish...and something elusive.

Thank you, David Grant

[bigfan-fanfic]

Smile for the Camera (Batdad!Reader Headcanon)

Requested by @yesthetrashbin for Batdad!Reader kidnapped by the Joker for an extended period of time and the fam’s reactions

Beware - the Joker lies ahead. Gosh, that fellow makes me nervous...

AAAH! So sorry, just startled by the sight of my first GIF ever! Thanks for that suggestion, anon!

It wasn’t your fault. You did everything right.

There were guards out the wazoo at that gala. Everyone was on lookout for the Joker

But no one expected a simple-looking, un-makeup-ed man with credentials naming him Joseph Kerr to sneak into the gala and set off a smoke bomb with green-tinged smoke

By the time Batman and the others evacuate, you are missing.

Bruce goes to Gordon immediately, suspecting the Joker.

The Batfamily looks for you, getting the League to help, but even Clark can’t see or hear your voice.

And then a day turns into a week, then a week and a half. And after 264 hours, Tim screams.

He’s been watching his news feed. In a breaking story where Vicki Vale warns the viewers that the video is graphic and disturbing, you are on screen, tied to a chair, semi-conscious

You look horrible. Joker seems to have been torturing you the entire time. Your face is almost unrecognizably cut up and bloody, and your non-dominant hand seems to have been crushed by Harley’s hammer.

“Hell-ooooooo, Gotham! It’s your favorite person here with Y/N Wayne, Gotham’s greatest benefactor. I tip my hat to you, sir!”

Joker does an inane little bow and pats your shoulder. You don’t react. Tim seethes with rage

“But we’re not here to shoot the breeze! Batsy, I know you’re watching. Meet me at midnight precisely, or Gotham City might not be so chummy with you anymore for letting this guy die! Be there, or be square!”

And the feed cuts to black as the Joker digs his hand into one of your wounds and you scream bloody murder.

Bruce

Nothing else matters but you right now.

The public “Bruce Wayne” hasn’t been seen in days, enough time for the tabloids to speculate that he’s been seen meeting with the Bat to try and get you back

Clark writes a piece about a fake but touching interview where Bruce Wayne claims he’s trying to keep the family positive and pleads for the return of his husband

He hasn’t shaved, has barely eaten, and is completely focused on finding you.

He sees the video and figures immediately where the Joker is, but he forces himself into cold calculations - he can’t mess this up, or the Joker will kill you.

He gets everyone he possibly can to help. Diana, Clark, Ollie, Dinah, and Barry all volunteer, with the others taking care of their respective cities while they assist.

When it finally comes time, Barry super-speeds, undoing the traps and binds set on you and getting you to a hospital. The others proceed to make short work of the Joker.

Bruce stays in the hospital with you at all times, constantly holding your good hand, snarling at anyone who dares to ask him to consider moving or leaving

He cries unashamedly when you wake up - he was so afraid of losing you.

He won’t be overprotective afterwards, because he knows that even the greatest level of preparation can’t prevent everything bad, but he does ask you to stay in the Manor for a while, until he feels better about being apart from you.

I said he won’t be overprotective - but

You definitely have multiple trackers on you from now on.

Alfred

He’s been running on pure adrenaline this whole time

His first instinct in a crisis is to tell you how to serve as his second pair of hands, but he turns and remembers you aren’t there

He’s been trying to keep to your routine - making sure Damian and Tim sleep reasonably, keeping the peace between Jason and Bruce, helping Dick cope with life in general

Alfred’s got every hospital in Gotham standing by

He even considers calling in some old favors from his RAF days to have the Joker taken out

You and Bruce are like sons to him

And he no longer has any need for sleep when you are in danger

Afterwards he’s back to business

Although he does give you a warm “It’s good to have you back, sir”

He’s very formal

Because he wants to avoid triggering you with an emotional display

Because Alfred knows that you are the rock of the family, but he’s your rock

And he’ll be damned if you can’t depend on him for that.

If you are ever kidnapped again, he will call in those favors, hang Bruce’s “One Rule.”

Dick

Freaking out. To the point where he is unable to function

Bruce has been in mortal danger before, but the idea of losing you is unthinkable

He’s too distracted to assist in the search, so Bruce benches him.

Instead he’s tasked to look after Jason and Damian

He’s so worried, but he makes sure Damian sleeps

Even once lets the boy sleep in his bed

He makes sure Jason isn’t going to do anything rash

And he is merciless in his cheering-up tactics, taking a page out of your playbook

He constantly reassures them that you will be alright

That you need them to be good while you’re away

And that they will need to be on their best behavior when you get back

He’s so happy when you are saved.

He’s first to the hospital, and like Bruce, he refuses to leave your side.

Develops a bit of separation anxiety. He goes with you everywhere for the next several weeks.

One of the multiple trackers on you is his.

Jason

Filled with rage and fear.

Self-loathing, too. What if you get turned into something else like he did? What if they have to use a Lazarus Pit

He considers it, and he would do it

Anything other than letting you die

Dick keeps a tight watch on him

He knows he has to be a good person even when you aren’t there

He punches and fights hard, definitely maims, but doesn’t kill

Bruce benches him for your rescue

And he doesn’t want to disappoint you, so Jason allows it

He knows that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself killing the Joker.

When you’re back, he won’t know how to act.

He settles for hugging you often and being sarcastic a little less.

He’s just glad you’re safe, and back where you should be.

Tim

Probably handles it the best.

He’s been trawling through the Batcomputer’s data trying to find someplace where the Joker might be able to conceal you long-term

But the Joker doesn’t follow patterns, so this leads nowhere.

Tim basically shuts down his emotional side, focusing instead on cold hard facts, because if he didn’t, he might break

Tim might only show it when running on empty, but he loves and appreciates you as a parent every bit as much as the others. 

There are some truly unhealthy mixes of energy drinks and coffee made during this period. Tim has developed several twitches by the time you are found.

He’s not at the hospital because he’s practically comatose for a week, recovering from what appears to be a caffeine overdose.

Assumes it’s a dream when you’re released from the hospital

Breaks down crying when he learns it’s not, and nearly re-breaks your just-healed ribs hugging you

Is traumatized by the event, and will not leave you alone at a gala for months after.

Damian

Handles it the absolute worst.

He is lost without you there. He throws a massive anger fit, the aftermath of which includes swords embedded in walls with no possibility of removal.

Like Jason, Damian is benched too. Dick is given the job of watching over him, and the two share a moment when Damian allows himself to cry.

He cannot be alone, so he goes with Dick everywhere

When you wished he would act his age, you didn’t think it would be like this

He hasn’t felt this angry at someone since Talia tried to kill you.

He spends the first few days staring at pictures of all the stuff you’ve done together since he came to the Manor

And the next few days he spends watching the news carefully for anything involving the search for you.

He tries to focus by helping Alfred do the necessary chores - laundry, getting food.

He spends a lot of time with his animals, who can sense his pain and try to comfort him.

Trust me, when you get better, you’re gonna need to find him a puppy or some kind of baby animal to make him feel better.

When you wake up in the hospital, he has gone to get water for Dick and Bruce.  He may forever curse the ill timing, since he missed seeing you wake up

Damian will deny this, but he slept in yours and Bruce’s bed for the first few nights after you were cleared from the hospital, just to be sure that you’re still there.

Two of the trackers on you are Damian’s.

[danganronpedits-archived]

could I req a matchup? any media is fine!Im a pretty eccentric guy, I love clowns, surprises and have a soft spot for 'so bad its good' horror. Im also really interested in the paranormal ,psychology, but I've been described as that one guy that puts waaay too much effort into a shit post. I'll admit though, I mostly act like that to make up for the fact that I grew up too fast, I lack trust in the world, so barely anyone really knows that side of me. ty!

ah, yes!! i have another kin matchup anon coming up, and i think it would be interesting to see you guys talk... but yeah, let’s get into it! i’ve been really indecisive about these lately, if you were wondering why it took a while!! i’m sorry!!

first off, from pokemon, i match you with...

acerola!

to start off, acerola is definitely eccentric. at least, in the games she is ("Phew! Well, there goes my hope of beating you to smithereens and becoming Champion myself!")! she seems very energetic and a little teasing, though she mostly keeps it to herself- she’s never really hurtful, in my eyes. she’s charismatic the way i kind of see you being! just to get this out of the way, i think that she is a little more... cartoonish, and peppy, than you are- but just from the matchup, the two of you seem very similar!! we don’t know much about her stance on some of the things you listed in your interests,, but she definitely has an interest in the paranormal! after all, she adores ghost types and specialises in them! she loves surprises, and her entire trial is... kind of like a kidz bop version of a horror game! it’s not really good horror- you taking pictures with a cute little rotom camera... kinds of breaks the immersion- but i think it can still be a little unsettling, despite how warm and welcoming pokemon is as a whole! maybe you’d like that little segment, or maybe you do- i don’t know if you’ve played (ultra) sun/moon! i think acerola could also be into psychology to an extent, as she has a lot of people around her that she tries to sympathise with. in fact, while i don’t remember the scene in detail, acerola does say, "Now, Lillie, you're coming with me to do some shopping!" and... i mean, you could argue that this was rather perceptive of her, since lillie struggles with picking out things for herself. i could see you having moments like that, anon, picking up on things about others and maybe not even realising that you are!

acerola is definitely the type to get carried away on a shitpost- i don’t think that when either of you do it it’s annoying or anything, but it’s like... wow! it’s funny, and it’s got a cute little bow on top! ...something like that, you know? i think that acerola would describe herself similarly to how you do, and just- you kind of talk like an older version of her, if that makes sense? not much older, but just... a little more cautious with your wording than i think she’d be! i do think, however, that you both grew up too fast- um, i’m sorry for that by the way, anon! hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself afjdsjf,, however, acerola is very protective of younger children (”Back at Aether House, I'm like everyone's big sister! They all really depend on me.") and whenever their safety comes into question, she gets very serious and concerned, which is a sharp contrast to her usual demeanor. the aether house, where she grew up, is an orphanage- all of this can contribute to her having to grow up fast, having to take care of others. relating to you though, anon, her seriousness at the threat of danger to her siblings is really the only glance we get at her ‘other’ side. i would say she also lacks trust in the world to an extent, and this is more of an assumption, but anon, i think you can find it hard to grow personally close with other people. acerola relies on herself to defend the younger children at the aether house, and i’m sure that she would doubt their safety if she left them behind- almost in a motherly sort of way. point is, she depends on herself, not the other people around her.

second off, from bang dream(bandori), i match you with...

kaoru seta!

once again, kaoru is definitely eccentric. she’s the kind of theater kid that’s very confident, but not overconfident to where they’re just going around bothering people. maybe you’re not the exact same kind of eccentric as her, but the two of you definitely stand out in a crowd with your personalities. appearance wise, maybe not at first, but there’s a lot to see behind initial appearances with you!!! plus, you also seem... i don’t know, but you and her have a really similar vibe in terms of being prince-ly, but still a bit feminine. not to call you girly or anything, anon ^^;. we don’t really know her stances on a lot of your interests, but a hobby of hers is reading philosophy books- i think that could be attributed to psychology, in a way! also, in of herself, kaoru is sort of a surprise simply with her presence. she does feel human to me, the way you also do, but with both of you... there’s this sort of untouchable aura. like i couldn’t even begin to measure up to you... you know? while she isn’t exactly comfortable around the paranormal or spookier things, as seen in the cursed well event story, i’d imagine that she does at least engage with the content as part of theater- essentially summed up in this quote, ”I've played the part of a ghost, have I not? I not only think so, I know so! So please, enough of this ghost nonsense!”.  she can definitely see the art in horror, ghosts and the like! in terms of clowns, i mean, kokoro is one of her best friends, sooo...

i’d also say that kaoru would put... a lot of effort into her shitposts. not only for the sake of her prince persona, but also because... as she would say, a meme so comedic... is unbelievably fleeting. point is, she strives to lift others up, and this would show in her humor as well! to an extent, she kind of is a walking and talking shitpost. i don’t mean that in a derogatory way, but maybe you could relate to... not feeling like people take you seriously, because of how you present yourself! i definitely understand that- it’s hard to be honest about that kind of thing sometimes,, plus, i’d say that like you, kaoru also grew up in a world not made for her. while we don’t know much about her past, she used to have both self esteem and confidence issues, putting on the mask of a prince to make sure others wouldn’t have to experience those same issues. acerola and her both feel protective over the people they care about, and i kind of get a similar instinct from you. she’s very bothered about things that she didn’t say in the past, and maybe you relate to that- looking back, and loathing the things you didn’t say. kaoru does seem to lack trust in the world, to an extent, as whenever she’s by herself, the facade she puts on almost completely vanishes. maybe when you’re by yourself you find yourself more solemn, too.

and lastly, from danganronpa, i match you with...

kokichi ouma!

...but i will say, you have REALLY BIG kaito momota vibes for some reason??? from these major matchups, i’ve concluded that you have purple hair in real life. ^^; that’s a joke, but kokichi came to my head right away when i read your matchup!! i bounced around a bit, but ultimately(haha) decided on him. you may need to hear me out, as... he’s a little different from the other two. kokichi’s entire gang has a clown aesthetic, and he loves surprising people, finding joy in taking them off guard- like, take one single look at the insect meet & greet. take a glance at his role in the chapter three investigation. i don’t really know where he stands on horror type things, but a lot of his actions, while dominantly pranks, can be genuinely offputting- um. see the two examples i listed a second ago. again, i don’t know his stance on the paranormal, but i do think he has an interest, or at least skill, in psychology. he’s a human lie detector, though it’s not a flawless ‘system’. kokichi is definitely eccentric, his beliefs more often than not differ from his classmates’, and many remark that it’s hard to get a grip on what he’s thinking. once again, maybe you can relate to that- especially since you’ve said that you act differently thanks to your growing up, it might be hard to really lock down a perception of you. maybe you feel safer like that- i’m not sure.

look at me in the eyes right now and tell me that kokichi doesn’t make dank memes and post them to reddit for a living. he is the spawner of surreal memes. kokichi, with all of his pranks, is easily one of the most playful and jokey characters in danganronpa. some of them can be dismissed as cheerful lies, but also... like. kokichi is the major spawn of several danganronpa memes... but that’s kaede’s lie, isn’t it? while a lot of kokichi’s past is obscured, it’s implied that he, like acerola, is an orphan. that... would definitely cause you to grow up fast- and it’s not every day that someone decides to form a clowncore gang. plus, kokichi’s distrust in the world and constant lying are most likely for his own defense. he does have a mix of compulsive and pathological lying in him, the former tending to come from when lying is necessary in your home environment. i’m not saying that you’re like that specifically, but his complete lack of belief in anyone makes it clear that yes, he has little to no trust on the world. it’s only in chapter five that kaito briefly sees past kokichi’s facade- but even then, i’m sure kaito couldn’t really understand kokichi beyond just... a feeling. a wordless sympathy. little to no one knows kokichi, since... it’s like shuichi says. he’s the embodiment of a lie. (a statement i don’t fully agree with, but it gets the point across.)

-

minor matchups time babey! from danganronpa, you also remind me very strongly of kaito momota, and somewhat of jataro kemuri, ryoma hoshi, and nagito komaeda. from 1bitheart, you remind me strongly of the yakumo twins and hiyu mekami. from pokemon, you also remind me of shauntal, phoebe, iris, and will! from my hero academia, you remind me of denki kaminara. from my little pony, you remind me of cheese sandwich and discord. from corpse party, ayumi shinozaki and seiko shinohara. from danganronpa another, satsuki iranami. from fullmetal alchemist, you remind me a bit of edward elric. from little witch academia, you remind me of sucy manbavaran. from haikyuu, you strongly remind me of satori tendo, and somewhat of bokuto kotaro! from pokemon reborn, you also strongly remind me of cain! lastly, from your turn to die, you remind me of the yabusame siblings!

...sorry that those were a little stoic! i was trying to keep them short, since there were so many ^^;. hope this was okay, anon, i admittedly wasn’t great at locking down matches for you... if you need anything changed, just let me know!

-mod tsu

[thegreenfaery]

The excerpt no one asked for.

I have recently made reference to a future chapter of The Diplomat’s Daughter in (ever-so slightly snotty) open letter posted to a well-known fanfic website. Anyhoo, both Little Shadow and Diplomat’s Daughter are undergoing refurbishment, so to speak, and I figured I may as well stick self-standing excerpts on here.

That wretched, infernal beast of a woman. How dare she even consider herself to be in the same league as him, much less better?

He knew she was winding him up on purpose, but today was the day that he proved her wrong once and for all. No Shihōin would ever outmatch a Kuchiki. The very thought of it was inconceivable. Laughable, even.

So why, then, was he taking this… this contest so seriously? For one thing, no one could make Kuchiki Byakuya tick quite like Shihōin Yoruichi. And, for another, there was no way in hell that he was going to buy that damned demon-cat lunch, no matter what his Grandfather said. He was also especially looking forward to the moment that he could pummel her wicked face into the dust and make her eat the filthiest of Rukongai dirt.

He’d like to see her laugh at him then, choking on the mud and grime and Kami knows what else.

What was the point of all this? What had started as an occasional annoyance had turned into a nigh on weekly event. He had graciously allowed the small possibility that she was viewing this as an ongoing training exercise. After all, each session became increasingly more competitive; harder, faster, and with more challenging terrain. However, he’d thrown that platitude well away because this was just plain insulting.

They’d raced across water, down cliffs and mountainsides, through forests and thickets. They had even ventured underground, down into great twisting networks of caverns. And loathed as he was to admit it, those matches had been exhilarating.

But today she had taken him across vast expanses of unobstructive tundra, and although they were traversing notably farther than ever before, it was hardly up to her usual standards. That being said, he still had to console himself that she had had a considerable head start as the burning in his chest became ever more noticeable, the stitch in his side ever more present, and his breath ever more laboured.

He had no idea where she was headed, but he knew they were reaching the far-flung outer districts of the Rukon. He could tell by the stench.

Why couldn’t she just admit that she was wrong and he was right? Women simply couldn’t match the physical prowess of men. It was biological fact. The fairer sex was also the weaker one. It’s why there were so few female officers in the Gotei Thirteen. Squad Four was the sole exception, but they hardly counted; cleaners and caretakers might be helpful as the Eleventh’s personal healers but they were completely useless for combat. Not that he’d ever tell that Unohana-Taicho’s face. He wasn’t stupid. (She had traumatised him with a calligraphy brush when he was younger. Upon reflection, he may have been acting in what could be construed as a troublesome manner. Either way, he wasn’t keen to see what she could do with an actual blade.)

The point remained that if Shihōin really believed that women were equal she wouldn’t feel the need to pick this fight with a child. Which he was. Technically. He would, of course, highly object to being called a child in any other circumstance, but it was true that he was yet to reach his prime.

Unlike her. She was very much there, as she delighted in reminding him by shoving her excessively large breasts in his face on a regular basis. He was sure it would be incredibly enjoyable if it was any other woman. There had been a brief delusional period several years back when it had made his mouth go dry as thrill shot down his spine. These days, she just raised his hackles and made him feel ever so slightly sick.

Actually, there was nothing slight about it. She’d conditioned him to be like this. Just the other week, his Grandfather had resorted to rolling his eyes and sighing at him wearily after he’d visibly shuddered at the sight of Shiba Kūkaku’s unavoidable cleavage.

Maybe she’d broken him.

This was it now.

Fervent repulsion at the mere hint of a woman’s flesh for the rest of his life.

There would never be a Kuchiki heir and it was all her fau-.

“Oof!” Byakuya felt something crack as his shoulder collided with an object that was very much not the one he wanted to knock to the ground.

Somewhat dazed, he gathered his bearings to find himself winded and prone on the arid earth. To his side lay a split wicker basket, its lid flung asunder and its damp and tattered contents spilling out. It was another couple of seconds before he noticed that there was something beneath the strewn rags. Or, rather, someone.

At first he thought she was dead. Certainly, it appeared that a mild summer breeze would be enough to knock her down, never mind an adolescent Shinigami mid-Shunpo. It was just as well he had already been slowed down considerably by his fatigue. Anything more would have snapped the pitiful thing in half.

Pitiful. She really was, Byakuya thought. Pitiful and pathetic and in the way. As he came to his senses, the familiar itch of irritation began to prickle. This is exactly what he meant when he said women were weak.

Rising slowly, he yanked his shoulder back into place before rotating it and stretching his neck experimentally to ensure everything was as it should be. His jaw tensed as he saw the small cluster of women watching him warily, none of them daring enough to approach. None, save for a scowling portly woman of advanced age who was far more concerned with the state of the sheets than the fact that her employee had been knocked for six.

Grumbling, she snatched at the linens, bundling them into their broken carrier. She was just about to leave when, as an afterthought, she turned back to the girl, nudging her onto her back with a gnarled foot. Byakuya felt a twinge of what he would later recognise as remorse when he saw the bloodied mess of her face. The old woman snorted huffily through her nose, sneering down at her young employee. Muttering about a day’s wasted work, money lost, and mess on the sheets, she glanced up at Byakuya before spitting distastefully at his feet.

There was no respect for the office of Shinigami in this place.

There was little for fellow residents, either, judging by the way the woman chucked the most worn cloth over the girl’s head in a heap and left her for dead.

It was difficult to tell what had shocked him more: the impact of the collision or the callousness of the woman.

The incident no longer of any interest, the women at the riverside had returned to their work, and a stray group of three young boys resumed their boisterous game, chasing each other with sticks. One attempted to poke the girl’s body until Byakuya’s glare sent all three scarpering towards the distant huts downstream.

Surely she wasn’t really dead? And what kind of people would just leave one of their own lying there in their own blood?

Hesitant and unsure about what to do, Byakuya looked around to check that no one was watching before he too nudged her with his foot.

Nothing.

He tried to focus as he gently probed for her Reiatsu. There was a flicker of something that might be indicative of life, but it was so faint it was practically non-existent. Maybe they were right. It wasn’t like he could do anything. Really, letting her die would be a small mercy in a place like this.

He exhaled slowly as he stepped back, his mind made up.

At least it was, until he felt a sharp slap to the back of his head.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Shihōin Yoruichi demanded his answer in a manner that allowed for no excuses.

His face contorted almost painfully as he struggled between guilt and obnoxious insolence. His gaze settled on the ground as he mumbled sulkily, “To look for you.”

“Well, congratulations! You found me!” she quipped snarkily. She stared pointedly at the body on the floor. “What’s this?”

Byakuya did not deign to answer.

She whipped the cloth from the girl’s head. “Oh for- Kuchiki!” She hissed at him. Yoruichi hurried to wipe the girl’s face of blood before she suffocated. “What were you doing?! Flying about with your eyes shut?” A quick once over and Yoruichi deemed it suitable to sit the girl up, supporting her as she returned her attention to her face.

Defensive, Byakuya tried, unconvincingly, to argue his case, “This is your fault! If you didn’t insist on these stupid, childish games, none of this would have happened!”

She shot her student a warning look that told him in no uncertain terms that she strongly disagreed with him, but they would finish that discussion later. In the meantime, “Get down here and help me!”

Having transferred the girl’s weight across to Byakuya, Yoruichi set about cleaning her face more thoroughly, the soft green glow of healing Kaidō emanating from her hands. He was pleasantly surprised to note that underneath the grime, the girl’s features were actually sort of… pretty.

Dainty.

Dainty was a good word. It suited her.

And to think they say that fine breeding couldn’t be found this far from the Seireitei.

Yoruichi cleared her throat as she smirked at him. “Careful, Kuchiki, that smile might just break your face.”

Sometimes he wondered if it could be found outside of his household in the Seireitei.

Still, he had to begrudgingly admit that Shihōin had her uses, especially as the smelling salts worked their magic and the girl’s eyes fluttered open. She sat there stunned for a few moments before suddenly retching. Yoruichi was there with the discarded cloth in hand to catch the mix of spittle, blood, and bile, and for once Byakuya was grateful for her presence. Dealing with other people’s bodily fluids was not in his repertoire.

After her retching coughs had faded, the girl resumed her wide eyed staring without really seeing. Her body limp, she fell back into Byakuya as she seemed to lose consciousness a second time, but Yoruichi was there coaxing a response, firstly with a firm but reassuring voice and then by tickling the girl’s foot.

Byakuya bit back a snigger as she bolted upright, but he caught her before she fell forwards. That much he could do.

Yoruichi continued with her gentle line of questioning without much luck. The girl had quickly perfected her thousand-yard stare and Byakuya was at a loss of what to do. His eyes darted back and forth between her and his mentor. “Is… Is she alright?”

Yoruichi raised her eyebrows at him. “She’s concussed, what did you expect?” Frowning, she considered their options. Shock was setting in and the girl was cold and clammy. Settling on an answer, she began fishing through her pockets for a small, dark blue vial. Tilting the girl’s head back, she placed three drops of a milky white liquid onto her tongue and waited for it to kick in.

Lifting the girl over her shoulder, Yoruichi turned back to Byakuya. “Think you can get to Sixty-One before me?”

Before he even had a chance to respond, she’d vanished, cackling, leaving him choking on a cloud of dust.

Erupting in a frustrated garble of consonants, he flung his arms up in the air and resumed his never-ending pursuit of the one they called Shunshin, the Flash Goddess.

[writetobuildtheworld]

BLACK

Power, sophistication, formality, elegance, wealth, mystery, fear, evil, anonymity, unhappiness, depth, style, sadness, remorse, anger, underground, grief, and death.

"hello, for the prompt game, could you do Adrien from ml with the color black? i think it would be interesting to see our sunshine boy be angsty."

Welcome back to pt.3 of my akumatized!Adrien fanfic. Read pt.1 here and pt.2 here.

It's hard to believe we've reached pt.3 already. This piece went through several revisions because I wanted it to be perfect for you guys, so I hope you enjoy!

(For the sake of plot, I have Adrien remember his time being akumatized.)

xXx

The end of pt.2:

"Master Fu, is there any way we can fix this?" Tikki begged. "We don't know how to destroy the miraculous to force the akuma out without a Cataclysm."

Fu sighed. "There are only two feasible options, I'm afraid."

"That's better than no options," Marinette replied. "You know we're going to try anything."

"The first is for Plagg to cataclysm the ring himself," Fu began. "That would effectively destroy the miraculous, but I fear the damage done to it would not be completely reversible by Ladybug's power."

Marinette exchanged a glance with Tikki. That option seemed fitting for a last resort. "What's the other way?"

"The other way is that we wait for Adrien to wake up, then have him put on the ring and force the akuma out."

Plagg winced. "Master, I don't know if that's possible, even for my chosen. Hawk Moth's will is crazy hard to break once someone is hooked. Not to mention that in this stage of grief, Adrien will do anything in his power to bring his mother back."

"Well, he won't be alone." Fu turned to Marinette. "You will be with him."

Marinette blinked. "Me?"

He nodded. "Yes. You, Marinette, are the only one who can help Adrien fight off Hawk Moth. Ladybug and Chat Noir complete each other. He needs you."

Marinette looked down at her friend, who appeared so peaceful she could almost pretend he was sleeping instead of being unconscious.

Her friend. Her partner.

Maybe something more, like she'd always dreamed.

But that was only possible if he was deakumatized.

"Okay." She turned back to Fu, determination glimmering in her still-gray eyes. "I'll do it. I'll convince him."

xXx

Adrien awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for air as he desperately clawed at the blanket on top of him. Someone appeared at his side, pulling the blanket away and helping him sit up. "Shh. It's okay. You're fine."

Adrien stared down in horror at his hands, unsure whether the black smoke curling off his fingers was real or a terrifying figment of his imagination.

He remembered now. He'd been akumatized.

Sharp pain seared through his head at the memory. His mother... She was in a coffin beneath his house. He'd planned to use the ladybug and cat miraculouses to bring her back. Marinette was -

Ladybug.

Marinette was Ladybug.

"Adrien? Are you okay?"

Adrien turned to see Marinette sitting beside him, her blue eyes filled with concern.

No, not blue.

Gray.

He wanted to throw up. "Oh my God," he muttered, remembering how Cœur Noir - how he - had attempted to take Marinette's earrings.

Adrien reached up to touch the girl's cheek, unable to hide the horror in his eyes as he took in her deathlike appearance. "I did this to you."

Marinette gently took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "It's not your fault. It wasn't you."

Adrien shook his head. "No. I hurt you." He slammed his other hand onto the ground, unable to contain his frustration. "Damn it!"

"If it makes you feel better," Marinette said, reaching up with her free hand and touching the gauze on his forehead, "I did this to you."

Adrien touched the back of his head. "I take it you had to knock me out to subdue me?"

Marinette didn't answer, instead giving his hand a soft squeeze. Any other day Adrien would have been ecstatic that Marinette, that Ladybug, was holding his hand, but at that moment there was only self-loathing.

"I'm so sorry, Marinette. I never meant for this to happen. I just... I just wanted to see my mother's smile again."

Marinette let go of his hand and pulled him into a tight hug.

Adrien blinked in surprise, the affection unexpected but welcome. He sank into her hug, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you."

"It's gonna be okay," Marinette said. "We'll get through this. Together."

Adrien realized his right hand felt lighter than usual. He pulled out of the hug, staring down at his palm. "My ring. It's gone." The monotone of his own voice surprised him.

Marinette shook her head. "Not gone." She reached into her purse, pulling out a hexagonal-shaped box. One that would normally contain an unused miraculous. "I took it off your finger when you were unconscious to deakumatize you. Master Fu thought it would be safest to contain it like this."

Adrien frowned. "You mean you couldn't get the akuma out?" He glanced around him. "Also, where are we?"

Marinette winced. "Well, no to the first question. And unfortunately I can't tell you where we are."

"Why not?"

Marinette sighed, tucking a strand of hair that had escaped from her pigtails behind her ear. "Only a Cataclysm can destroy a miraculous to break out an akuma. And given that your miraculous is the cat miraculous..."

"Then there's no way to get the akuma out," Adrien finished.

"Not quite. There are two options. The backup plan is for Plagg to use a Cataclysm on the miraculous."

Adrien chuckled. "Let me guess. That would permanently damage the ring."

Marinette smiled. "Exactly. You've got a powerful kwami."

"So what's the other option?"

Marinette bit her lip. She looked hesitant to tell him.

Adrien's stomach sank. "Marinette? What is it?"

She sighed. "I don't like it, but it's all we've got." She held up the miraculous box. "You put the ring back on and force the akuma out."

Adrien blanched. "Is that possible?"

"Master Fu seems to think so."

Adrien nodded, the puzzle pieces falling into place. "That's why I can't know where we are. Because Hawk Moth could track us."

"Yes. I understand if you don't want to do this, Adrien. No one would blame you."

He already blamed himself. "No. I'll do it. There's no other way, right?" He smiled at her, though it was strained. "We can't allow Hawk Moth to remain connected to the miraculous. Too many people would be at risk."

"Are you sure?" Marinette asked, her gray eyes glistening with worry. "I don't want you to feel pressured."

Adrien nodded. "Yes. I need to do this." Hawk Moth had gotten to him. As Chat Noir, he could never allow something like that to happen again.

He didn't know what else his father might be hiding. He still hadn't fully come to terms with the fact that his mother was alive. Or, at the very least, that she wasn't dead. But with his sanity returned to him, Adrien knew that using the ladybug and cat miraculouses to bring her back was not the right way to go.

She would never have wanted that.

"There is some good news," Marinette said, giving him a soft smile. Was she blushing? "Master Fu instructed me to stay in here with you. So you won't be alone when you're facing Hawk Moth."

Excitement surged through Adrien's veins for a moment before being replaced by guilt and fear. "What if I hurt you again?" he asked. "I can't risk that."

Marinette shrugged. "That's a risk I'm willing to take. Besides, Tikki - she's my kwami - is waiting nearby to transform me into Ladybug if there's danger and to purify the akuma once we get it out."

Adrien admired her confidence. She was completely certain the plan would work. The blood rushed to his cheeks as he realized that her certainty came from faith in him. "If you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure." She smirked at him. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Adrien laughed. "Confidence is a good look on you, Marinette." He saw it all the time on Ladybug, but it was a perfect fit for her civilian self, too.

"Save your flattery for later, kitty," Marinette chastised, but Adrien didn't miss how red her face became.

Hmm. Compliments made her flustered.

He'd have to remember that.

Marinette handed him the miraculous box. "Whenever you're ready, Adrien." She have him a soft smile. "I'll be right here. I promise."

Adrien took a deep breath, then took the ring out of the box and put it on.

xXx

"Tikki. Plagg." Fu knelt down on the floor. "There is a favor I must request of you."

The kwamis flew over to the older man, away from the door where they were casually eavesdropping on Adrien's and Marinette's conversation.

"As you know, it is possible to use the ladybug and cat miraculouses at the same time to grant any wish the wielder desires," Fu began. "It is also possible for the two kwamis within those miraculouses to unite their power in a certain way as well."

Tikki and Plagg exchanged a glance.

"Why are you telling us this?" Tikki asked. "Is there something you need us to do?"

Fu continued as if she hadn't asked. "The power of the two kwamis is, of course, weaker than a person using both of the miraculouses. Whatever the kwamis decide to do will only affect those who have been in some form of contact with at least one of the miraculouses within a 24-hour period, though it will affect all of such people regardless of any intentions to spare one person or another."

Neither Tikki nor Plagg liked where the conversation appeared to be heading.

"Furthermore, the options the ladybug and cat kwamis have regarding the wish they grant have stricter limits than one person wielding the miraculouses."

"Master, please just tell us what you need us to do," Plagg said, practically begging.

Fu sighed, finally making eye contact with the two kwamis. "I need you to erase the memories of everyone from tonight."

Tikki blanched. "But - But Master, what if -"

"We cannot dwell on the 'what if,'" Fu interrupted. "Hawk Moth knows Adrien's identity and almost certainly Marinette's. And I do not want to choose new holders for the miraculouses because you told me yourself that they are the best wielders you have had in centuries. They are the only hope we have for defeating Hawk Moth."

"What about Adrien?" Plagg asked. His voice was so low it almost went unheard. "After everything he's learned tonight, after everything he's gone through, you expect me to be okay with erasing all of it?!"

Fu stared at the black kwami with heavy eyes. "There is no other way."

"I can't do that to my chosen!" Plagg growled. "There's always another way. There has to be!"

"Then how do you propose this situation be handled?" Fu demanded. "Do you know a way to bring Adrien's mother back to life? To make only Hawk Moth forget the events of tonight?"

"I can't wipe his memories. I can't," Plagg repeated, his voice a hushed whisper. "I can't."

"Will they really forget... Everything?" Tikki asked.

Fu nodded. "The two of you, however, will not. No kwamis will."

Plagg froze. "We won't?"

Fu nodded again. "I'm going to warn you now that you are not to discuss with either of them the events of tonight, but you are free to conduct your own investigations." He glanced at Plagg. "I assume you were thinking about Adrien's discovery of mother?"

Plagg sighed. "Yeah." He didn't like it, but... "Alright. We'll do it." Maybe there was something he could do on his own to help Adrien's mother.

"And now we wait?" Tikki said, staring at the door Adrien and Marinette were currently behind.

"Yes," Fu agreed. "Now we wait."

xXx

Watching Adrien transform into Cœur Noir triggered Marinette's flight or freeze response.

Damn. Fight wasn't even an option.

"I'm not going to work for you, Hawk Moth," Adrien - Cœur Noir? - muttered, covering his ears with clenched fists. "You can't fool me anymore!"

While Marinette had the utmost confidence in Adrien, she knew Hawk Moth's will was iron and almost impossible to break. She'd witnessed multiple people be akumatized and attempt to fight it off, only to fail moments later.

Then again, few people ever had an... intermission, of sorts, while they were akumatized. Adrien was fortunate enough to have time between to come back to his senses.

"Yes, it's true I would do anything to bring my mother back," Adrien snapped. Marinette recognized the purple outline of a butterfly on his face. "But my mother would never want me to put someone else's life in danger for her. She wasn't - isn't - that kind of person!"

Marinette froze as Adrien slowly turned towards her.

"But she said... She said she didn't blame me," he murmured, and Marinette knew he was referring to how Cœur Noir had stolen some of her "life."

"I don't. I don't blame you, Adrien," she said, standing her ground. "You were being manipulated. It's not your fault. Don't listen to Hawk Moth!"

Adrien fell to his knees, the black smoke curling from his fingers increasing in intensity. "Shut the hell up! You don't know what I want. You don't know who I am!"

Marinette couldn't watch from the sidelines any longer. Fighting every instinct in her body to flee, she instead ran to her friend's side, kneeling down next to him. "Come on, Adrien!" she urged. "You can do this. I know you can!"

Adrien's fists tightened. His body was shaking, and the bright red veins beneath his skin appeared to be pulsing, which was almost as mesmerizing as it was horrifying.

Marinette hesitated, but as she watched Adrien's body continue to shake...

She knew she couldn't do nothing

Ugh. She might regret this later.

She grabbed his hands, pulling them away from his ears. The black smoke seared at her palms, but Marinette didn't let go. She uncurled his fingers, wincing at the gashes from his nails digging into his skin. "Take a deep breath, Adrien."

He followed her instructions, taking a shuddering breath. His face was still directed towards the ground. The butterfly outline was yet to disappear. "Stop," he muttered. "I'm not going to listen to you!"

He seemed to be trapped in some sort of mantra, in control enough where Hawk Moth couldn't manipulate him into doing anything but stalled to the point where he couldn't force the akuma out.

Marinette's hands were starting to blister. She had to do something, and she had to something now.

She let go of one of his hands before reaching up and pulling off the red ribbon covering his eyes.

It took every ounce of willpower not to jerk away as he stared up at her.

Where his eyes should have been were empty sockets. It was as if she was looking into an infinite abyss, one that pulled her in and suffocated her. But she didn't break eye contact.

"Adrien. You are the one in control here, not Hawk Moth. I know you can do this!" Marinette's grip tightened on his hand she was holding. "Please, Adrien. Please."

Adrien slowly sat up, staring at his right hand. His crimson ring started shimmering, flashes of silver breaking through. "Sorry, Hawk Moth," he growled. "I don't need your help to bring my mother back. My Lady is with me."

Adrien glowed with a deep purple before his ring flashed and a butterfly flew out.

Marinette released Adrien's hand, jumping to her feet. "Tikki, spots on!" The akuma fluttered around haplessly, and Marinette - now Ladybug - brandished her yo-yo. "Time to de-evilize!" With the ease of having done it a thousand times, which of course she had, she captured the akuma and purified it. "Bye bye little butterfly!" she whispered as the white butterfly disappeared through a crack in the now-open door. "Miraculous Ladybug!"

Energy surged through Marinette's veins. She could almost feel the color returning to her skin, and the burned tissue on her palms faded into nothing.

"Tikki, spots off."

Her kwami appeared in a flash, having left the earrings.

"I'll rejoin you and Master Fu in a moment," Marinette said to her. "Whenever Adrien is ready."

Tikki nodded, smiling at her, though something about it seemed strained. "We'll be waiting for you!" Her kwami flew out the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Marinette returned to Adrien, who was still hunched over on the floor. "Hey," she said, sitting next to him, "you did it."

Adrien sat up, staring intensely at her. Marinette was relieved to see his vibrant green eyes again. "You're okay now?" he asked after a pause.

She chuckled, gesturing to her tan arms. "No gray in sight." She smirked at him. "Unless you count the new gray streaks in my hair. This was pretty stressful, you know." Her smile vanished. "Are you going to be okay?"

Adrien sighed. "Yes. Maybe." He shrugged. "My mother is still unconscious in a hidden basement. Hawk Moth now knows both of our identities. He also knows that we're susceptible to being akumatized. God." He ran his hands through his hair. "I fucked everything up."

"Adrien, you can't blame yourself -"

"I can and I will. It's my fault. I know that -"

"No, shut up." Marinette glared at him, poking his chest. "Your reaction, Adrien Agreste, was perfectly reasonable! No one would expect their father to be hiding a corpse in a secret basement, much less the body of their mother. Negative emotions make us human! It was Hawk Moth who took advantage of your moment of devastation. His fault. No one else's. Do you understand?"

Adrien stared at her with wide eyes. Neither spoke. Slowly, his gaze shifted down to her lips.

For a moment, time stood still.

Then the two collapsed.

xXx

"It's been done," Tikki said. She winced, able to hear her chosen fall to the floor even through the closed door. Fu had also collapsed, though a pillow had been placed on the ground to cushion his more... fragile bones.

"They're really not going to remember a thing," Plagg muttered. "Damn it!"

"At least Hawk Moth has forgotten their identities. If there's one good thing to come out of this."

"It's hard to believe one good thing is worth all the bad." Plagg's tail twitched in frustration. "Whatever. What's done is done."

"Yes." Tikki opened the door and stared sadly at her chosen. Even unconscious, Marinette and Adrien were holding hands. "It is."

xXx

Marinette groaned as she woke up. Her head was pounding - worse, her lower abdomen was, too.

"Damn," she muttered, dragging herself out of bed. "Looks like my period is about to start."

There was a loud crash, and Marinette turned to see that Tikki had dropped a small glass figurine she'd been adjusting on the bookshelf.

"Tikki?" Marinette said worriedly, ignoring the throbbing in her stomach as she rushed to her kwami. "Are you okay?"

Tikki offered her a strained smile. "Yes! Yes, I'm fine." She flew to the floor and began picking up porcelain shards. "Sorry. I guess just got distracted."

Marinette laughed and began helping her pick up pieces. "Don't worry. You already know how distracted I can get. Besides, I didn't like this thing much anyway."

Tikki nodded, not saying anything else.

Marinette didn't press the conversation, but she could tell her kwami was still shaken.

Yet, for some reason, Marinette did not dare to ask why.

xXx

Adrien sighed as he worked mindlessly through his morning routine. He was eating breakfast alone, which wasn't out of the ordinary. but what made it worse was that Plagg had decided not to join him at school today.

Adrien briefly wondered where his father was - normally he saw him at least once a day, when the man was walking down the hall to his office. "Nathalie, is my father feeling alright?"

Nathalie looked up from the paperwork she was filling out. "He's fine. He accidentally hit his head on the corner of the mantle in his office yesterday, however, and will be resting for most of the day."

So Adrien wouldn't be seeing his father at all.

Again, not unusual.

An idea suddenly struck.

Adrien hastily finished his breakfast, then asked to be excused. He didn't even wait for Nathalie's answer before he rushed back up to his bedroom.

"Don't you have school?" Plagg asked from where he was lounging on Adrien's pillow. "I thought you'd left already."

"I have five minutes before it's time to leave," Adrien replied. "Plagg, I need you to do me a huge favor."

Plagg sighed. "Don't wanna."

Adrien rolled his eyes. "At least hear me out."

"Fine. Hurry up."

Adrien wasn't sure why his kwami was being so stingy, but it wasn't like Plagg hadn't been stingy before. Although, it was usually about cheese. "My father isn't going to be in his office at all today. I want you to go in and snoop around. Do some spying for me."

Plagg stiffened, then rolled over so he wasn't facing Adrien. "No."

Adrien pouted. "Plagg, c'mon -"

"I said no!" Plagg snapped as he turned back around, his green eyes flashing.

Adrien found himself taking a step backwards under the angry glare of his kwami. "O-Okay," he stammered. "Sorry."

Something akin to regret flickered in his kwami's eyes, but he turned away before Adrien could figure out what it was.

Plagg then sighed as he flew from the bed and into Adrien's shirt pocket. "I changed my mind. I'm coming with you today."

"Right," was all Adrien managed to say.

Nathalie appeared in the doorway of his room. "It's time to leave, Adrien."

Adrien turned around, Plagg safely hidden in his shirt. "Coming!"

xXx

Bonus:

Gabriel Agreste flipped idly through a list of Adrien's classmates that Nathalie had prepared for him. Waking up with a concussion while still transformed as Hawk Moth had been suspicious enough - something odd had clearly happened overnight.

Yet he couldn't remember a single detail.

Nooroo hadn't provided any hints, though Gabriel could tell that the kwami was hiding something from him. He'd paled upon mentioning Adrien's school. Thus, Gabriel decided to have Nathalie create profiles for every student and faculty member there.

He paused on the seventh page. Something about this girl seemed familiar, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

Hmm. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Seemed to be the perfect place to start.

xXx

And thus, it is finished. This was a wild ride for me, but also an enjoyable one, and I hope you all feel the same. Feedback is much appreciated!

people who were interested in pt.3: @shayshaysspace, @princess-mari-dpc, @alexaonpurpose, @chctnoir, @nervoustrashfanfictionreader, @ouatpancakes, @our-cool-jenny, @lazynettes, @blxe-belle, @piccolo-paradise

(I apologize if you did not want to tagged, and for some reason a few tags aren’t working so I’m sorry about that, too!)

Thank you all for reading! For more ml content by yours truly check out @yespleasefandomtrash.

kudos to you if you caught my fma reference in this

[angeltriestoblog]

On love

I think it goes without saying that I’m a hopeless romantic. I dream of being given flowers and mixtapes and having poems written in my memory, slow dancing in the kitchen and stargazing on the roof. I want spontaneous adventures with itineraries that range from the neighborhood convenience store at midnight to the beaches up north when the sun is just about to rise, serious talks and shallow conversations with no judgment, no filter. Lots of trust and loyalty and growth and pure, unadulterated, true love. All the chick flicks and power ballads make it look like a relationship is the best thing in the world, and I am constantly exposed to people both in real life and online who serve as living testaments to the fact that it very well could be. 

So, it might be expected of me that when Valentine’s season rolls in, I’m sad since I’m single as heck (contrary to what the photo above may imply - by the way, thanks again for the sunflower Jason you’re such a good friend) and thus not experiencing all the things I’ve so painstakingly mapped out in the first paragraph. I take it that people might visualize me as the type to listen to heartbreak anthems with my head leaning against a car window, or stuff my face with ice cream as I watch The Hows of Us. I’d hate to disappoint all of you who think that way, but that’s not the case for me. I guess it’s because, after much contemplation, I’ve finally come to accept that at this point, I’m probably more in love with the idea of being in love than anything else, and with the several things on my plate at present, I can’t even bear to think of dealing with matters of the heart. 

I know that the mere act of wanting and thus, trying to be in a relationship will already demand a decent amount of time, energy and effort on my part: being the kind of person who can’t find it in herself to invest in anything short-term, I have to get to know someone over a prolonged period of time, familiarize myself with their ins and outs and have them be a part of my life as friends before letting it level up into something more. And if I ever get past that stage and get to the actual dating part, the problems don’t stop there at all: in fact, it probably just marks the beginning. There are several complications that come with being part of a couple, all hidden in the fine print, never boasted online or publicly displayed: the petty arguments that escalate into full-blown scream fests, the jealousy and anxiety and genuine fatigue that are often followed by internal conversations on whether or not things are still worth fighting for. 

I feel like handling all of that needs a certain level of maturity and level-headedness that I have yet to possess (but am working hard to achieve). Yes, even at 18, I admit I still have some growing up to do, which requires a terrible amount of self-awareness to admit. For instance, I have been self-centered and quick-tempered in the past, also wasn’t as tolerant of other people either: whenever a certain character flaw of theirs would manifest in their words and actions, I’d easily get turned off and find a way to distance myself from them. 

Because of all this, I have decided that right now, it would be best to redirect my full attention, refocus my energies to the most important person in my life: myself. I’ve had a turbulent self-esteem over the course of my adolescence, I’m not gonna lie: I’ve gone from loathing my physical features and altering every aspect of my personality to appear interesting enough to other people, to doubting my intelligence and capabilities. Thankfully, I’ve experienced a shift of sorts, that came with constantly being surrounded by people who see the best in me and never cease to remind me of how they see me as a person, with the hopes that I follow suit and start perceiving myself in the same light. 

I came around sooner or later: I realized that I am a great person, and I can become even better by taking the time to actually work on myself. I want to hone my existing talents and skills (writing, speaking, singing?!?!), and take the time to explore and learn more about fields that I have yet to dip my toes into (taking and editing pictures, dancing?!?!). I also would like to spend more time with the people closest to, and are honestly more than enough for me: my family and friends, and go the extra mile in expressing my appreciation and gratitude for them like they never fail to do for me, and ultimately work on being my best self by enhancing my positive characteristics and toning down or completely eliminating the negative ones altogether. 

So that when the right time comes and I meet someone who is everything I’ve ever wanted and more and decides that they think of me the same way, I can be someone I am proud of: not a half waiting to be completed, but a whole ready to be complemented. But for now, I’m content with being the resident third wheel, my taken friends’ designated photographer and hypewoman and the one who shouts “YIEEEEE” from the distance for all those who need it. Happy Valentine’s day, friends. Wishing you nothing but love and light, especially you, future s/o hehe wink.

[lookwhatilost]

i don't sympathize much with the incels, for the same reason i don't have a lot of patience for "trauma twitter" – any environment that encourages you to identify personally with your problems is going to lead you down a path where it's all you can think about, and you're probably going to treat other people much worse as a result. unlike trauma twitter, though, i do think the incels are an interesting group, and what makes them interesting has been flattened out by clickbait.

“incels worship elliot rodger as a god” sounds very “muslims in new jersey were cheering after 9/11″, for one thing.

it’s also not lost on me that the first discussions of internet radicalization were in the context of islamic terrorism. this isn’t a fully formed thought, but it does make me wonder how the incel panic will age.

the journalistic rigor is lacking severely, for something that people are allegedly very concerned about. rodger being editorialized as much as he has makes me question how much research has actually gone into the bulk of it.

in this vox article, the writer talks to a self-fashioned ex-incel historian who goes by “reformedincel”. this is from the portion of the article about the isla vista massacre:

The attacks were a turning point for the incel community. The killer’s posts on PUAHate, a popular online forum among incels frustrated that pickup artist techniques weren’t working for them, rendered the term “incel” toxic. It was the final blow in the war for inceldom’s soul — the moment when ReformedIncel knew his side had lost.

“The thing about Elliot Rodger is that he used that word. And that pretty much devastated the original incel community,” ReformedIncel tells me.

He describes a loss of hope among the community, a belief that “the only future we could foresee” for incels was one darkened by Rodger’s shadow. So, as he says, “we just gave up.”

But Rodger more than redefined the term “incel”: He helped reshape the ideas that the community would come to stand for, pushing its angriest and most nihilistic impulses to the fore.

the problem with this is that the word incel doesn’t appear once in “my twisted world”, and you can crtl+f for yourself if you won’t take my word for it. rodger used puahate, but it’s only mentioned 3 times in the manifesto in this paragraph:

The Spring of 2013 was also the time when I came across the website PUAHate.com. It is a forum full of men who are starved of sex, just like me. Many of them have their own theories of what women are attracted to, and many of them share my hatred of women, though unlike me they would be too cowardly to act on it. Reading the posts on that website only confirmed many of the theories I had about how wicked and degenerate women really are. Most of the people on that website have extremely stupid opinions that I found very frustrating, but I found a few to be quite insightful. The website PUAHate is very depressing. It shows just how bleak and cruel the world is due of the evilness of women. I tried to show it to my parents, to give them some sort dose of reality as to why I am so miserable. They never understood why I am so miserable. They have always had the delusion that everything is going well for me, especially my father. When I sent the link of PUAHate.com to my parents, none of them even bothered to look at the posts on there. 

this is a year before the massacre, and what i gleaned from reading the manifesto, it genuinely seems like a footnote in his violent ideation.

there’s really ugly shit on those forums, and i’m not minimizing it. even though every attempt to add nuance to conversations like this gets you accusations of legitimizing extremism from Those Kinds of People. but i say, if you want to solve a problem, you can’t do that without an accurate understanding of it.

so here’s a better shot: what makes these guys sink further into their misery is that they try to use sociological findings to legitimize their self loathing, “truth hurts” as a form of confirmation bias. a small cross section of .is’s must read threads include data about how brain scans show feel little to no empathy for the emotional pain of others, how some studies that anticipate findings about discrimination against women often yield a more balanced gender distribution than the researchers thought, how social isolation increases mortality, cliques/bullying/popularity existing passed high school, and sexual masochism in women explored through endocrine and neurobiological lenses.

the high-effort scientific posts are meticulously cited. the last one was legitimately really interesting, although i think what the poster extrapolates from it is odd. but i think this reflects something important about the psychology of a common .is user: they respond better to hard numbers than they do the emotionally-coded language of self-help advice.

one suggestion for prevention and harm reduction for incels: the left needs a figure that’s similar in affect to jordan peterson

random addendum: it’s funny how they reinvented sex tourism though “seamaxxing”

[aer-in-wanderland]

JBL | Character Analysis - Ha Moon Soo

The following started out as part of a post on the way in which grief and loss are dealt with in the drama at large, but it got so long that I’ve decided to section Kang Doo’s and Moon Soo’s off as separate posts. What follows is an analysis of Moon Soo, particularly in terms of how she reacts to her tragedy and her emotional journey over the course of the story. 

Even if we’re family we can’t feel the same emotions. It’s just…I can only imagine that, more than my sadness at having lost my younger sister, mom’s sadness at having lost her child must be greater. 

I’m not a good kid. I have a huge plate on the back of my head. You couldn’t tell earlier, huh? They say I was hurt when the accident happened, but I don’t remember. All I remember is…that I left my sister there alone…that because of me, there was yet another person who never returned. But here I am living normally and well all by myself. I was bad, wasn’t I?

When we first meet Moon Soo, she appears well-adjusted, self-contained, and mature. This is no accident - it’s something that she consciously works at. In the aftermath of the collapse, Moon Soo’s parents’ marriage fell apart as each blamed the other for Yeon Soo’s death. When the fighting got too severe, her father left the house, leaving Moon Soo alone to assume responsibility for her mother, who had turned to alcohol to drown her pain.

Moon Soo is strong because she needed to be strong. She is also uncommonly kind. As in the above quote, Moon Soo feels that her mother’s pain must somehow be greater than her own. While it’s true that no two people experience the same tragedy the same way, that doesn’t mean that one person’s pain is more or less valid - they’re simply different. But Moon Soo minimizes her own pain by comparing it to her mother’s, thereby dismissing her own grief as comparatively less. ‘If I’m sad, it will only make things harder for mom.’ So she hides her pain, even from herself. As it says in her character profile:

Moon Soo is also sad and in pain. It’s simply that she’s lost the chance to be sad. But instead of showing her true feelings, Moon Soo bravely continues about her daily life. That was Moon Soo’s method of coping with her sadness.

Moon Soo also struggles with self-loathing and survivor’s guilt. She blames herself for leaving her sister behind, and for calling Sung Jae to the accident site that day. Perhaps even more than Yeon Soo, Moon Soo feels responsible for Sung Jae’s death, because if it weren’t for her, he would never have been there in the first place. Later on in the story, when she learns of her past with Kang Doo, she blames herself for what happened to him as well. This is all due to a combination of her personality and the way she’s processed the accident. 

Why on earth did the accident happen on that day, at that time, at that place? No matter how she thought about it she couldn’t understand, so it was easier to shift the blame to herself. Why on earth was ‘I’ at that place, on that day?

In the aftermath of a tragedy, people try to make sense of things, to find reason in the random, when often there is none. We look for a cause, for someone to blame, for something to point to and say ‘if not for that.’ Moon Soo’s parents blamed each other. Moon Soo blamed herself. As a result, she lived her life in self-imposed penance. One way this manifests is in her work. Moon Soo became an architect out of guilt. It was only later that she came to genuinely like her profession. She had other dreams, but she gave them up.

Moon Soo remembers that afternoon. The wind that blew and the rattling glass, the building that collapsed in an instant, she remembers them. After the accident Moon Soo came to a decision. In exchange for having survived, to not be greedy, to not be swayed by trivial emotions. She simply wished for time to pass, for her to live according to her lot in life, without being noticed.

This is the context in which she meets (or is reunited with) Kang Doo, and at first, he’s an uncomfortable existence for her. At first glance, he is her exact opposite: he’s reckless, he does as he pleases, and he talks as if he cares for no one but himself. It takes time before Moon Soo comes to realize that, in fact, he seems to care for everyone but himself (I’ll do a separate analysis for Kang Doo next). But as much as he bothers her, she also recognizes some part of herself in him. Though she can’t remember, they were in the same accident together, and she senses the same sadness from him. What’s more, he keeps seeing her at her worst and drawing out her true emotions that she’s worked so hard to suppress. Though she initially finds this dynamic awkward and unsettling, it soon becomes a breath of fresh air for her, and the two fall into an easy and genuine friendship. As they grow closer, Kang Doo teaches her to express her emotions instead of always keeping everything bottled up inside.

Moon Soo’s character arc, then, is in some respects the reverse of Kang Doo’s, because, for her, the first step towards healing is to admit that she’s not okay. She may appear to start out well-balanced and then devolve in response to certain incidents and revelations, but it’s mostly that she’s finally learning to face everything she’s not allowed herself to feel for the past 12 years. 

So when Moon Soo gets into an explosive fight with her mother, I can’t help but feel that the timing is no coincidence. Yes, part of it is that Moon Soo’s mother discovers that she’s been working at the accident site and feels betrayed, but what’s significant is that, for the first time, Moon Soo fights back. Up until this point, Moon Soo has always held back, suffering in silence, hiding her hurt all the while. What I find most painful about Moon Soo’s relationship with her mother is that, essentially, she’s emotional collateral. Not only is she unable to express her own grief and sorrow, she has to bear up under her mother’s resentment of her father, her apparent favoritism towards Yeon Soo, and the fact that her mother perceives Moon Soo’s stoicism as callousness. And Moon Soo lets her, in order to protect her from the added pain of Moon Soo’s own hurt. 

Moon Soo was 15 at the time of the accident. What she needed most was a mother to comfort her and tell her ‘it’s okay.’ Instead, she had no choice but to assume that role, and in doing so, she not only lost a parent, she was also now responsible for another person who was dependent on her being the ‘strong one.’ With her father emotionally and physically absent, and her mother emotionally volatile, Moon Soo bravely assumed the role of caretaker, and part of that meant that she had to be ‘okay’ for them both. It would have been so easy to become resentful, but she isn’t. After yelling at her mother, Moon Soo feels apologetic, like she’s gone too far, said too much. Because she loves her mother and sympathizes with her pain, and because in between the rough spots, she’s still the same loving mother that she always has been. 

Which brings me back to the timing of the fight. To my sense, the reason Moon Soo finally finds her voice when she does is that, for the first time, she has someone to whom she can fall apart and take comfort in - Kang Doo. It’s only after she begins her relationship with Kang Doo that Moon Soo allows herself to fall apart, to fight back, and to confront her fears and guilt by asking him to come with her to see Sung Jae’s mom. Kang Doo becomes her safe place, and it’s through his help and his love that she begins to truly be okay, instead of just appearing so on the outside. Kang Doo accepts her as she is. He tells her it’s not her fault, that she’s not a bad person for being the only one to survive. He understands her sadness because he shares it, and he knows how important it is for her to confront her pain in order for her to heal. It’s why he asks Joo Won to leave the memorial project in her hands, and it’s why he insists on seeing it through with her to the very end, even as he’s sick and in danger of dying. 

One of the many wonderful things about Kang Doo is how he shows Moon Soo, in word and in deed, again and again, that she’s a good person, that she’s smart, and capable, and pretty, when she thinks of herself as somehow ‘less’ in comparison to Yeon Soo, and not a good person. He never holds back, partly because he’s a very straightforward person, and partly because he senses how important it is for her to hear it. When Moon Soo tells him that she’s ‘bad,’ he doesn’t answer reflexively. True to character, he thinks it over until it’s true in his heart, and when he tells her ‘no,’ he means it. When she confesses that she hates herself, he tells her, ‘Then I’ll just have to like you more.’ When she worries she was out of line with her mother, he reassures her that it’s okay to throw a fuss every once in a while - that her feelings are valid and important. 

In terms of Moon Soo’s emotional journey, if there was one thing I would have liked to see, it was Moon Soo overcoming her guilt and self-loathing and choosing to stay by Kang Doo’s side not because he was dying, but because she had come to understand that what happened truly wasn’t her fault. There’s a big difference between knowing something logically and believing it in your heart, but accepting that logic is an important first step. I’d like to think that that’s what she spent that night in the hospital struggling with as she waited for him to wake up after collapsing in front of her house. 

We may not have gotten to see that resolution, and Moon Soo may not yet believe it in her heart, but we do see her resolve in the wake of it. Though she’s devastated for Kang Doo, she doesn’t give in to that devastation, choosing instead to live each day with him to the fullest while they still can. They complete the memorial, date, and spend the night together. She stays by his side up until what may well have been the end. Ten months pass.

When we catch up with Moon Soo the following winter, we see her visiting her mother in rehab, exchanging messages with her father, and eating ice cream (hee ^ ^). It’s true that their family will never be the same again. The loss of Yeon Soo broke something fundamental, but they still have and love each other. That healing process will take a while yet, and it will never be complete, but the drama gives us hope that they’re headed in the right direction.

What’s more, we get a visual callback to the first time we saw her out front of San Ho Jang in episode 1, and this time, she smiles. The final sequence, with her and Kang Doo together on the roof, is so important because it leaves us with the sense that they’re happy, and that they’ll have the rest of their lives together in which they can enjoy ‘nothing-special’ moments. That doesn’t mean that their grief is magically erased and that all the wounds of the past are healed, but it does mean that, when that grief finds them again, they’ll each have the other to help them through it. As Halmeom tells Kang Doo:

Sad and painful things are always with us. You have to accept them. Instead, meet even better people and live even more fully. You can do that. Don’t worry. 

And they do.

[sirius-lune]

I am physically and mentally prepared. Come.

Already did. With my imagination. Where the heck are you at??

How did you know??? Wait. It is obvious. I would have ignored your calls but hell, why is your voice so charming???

Saeran, no. You aren't Jumin.

Bad prologue and we are getting a very smooth af Saeran. Then again, just my thoughts here. If Saeran is really, as what some people said, mentally and emotionally broken to the extent that he will simple suck any affection and care shown to him like a sponge, and obsessed with MC, judging by his cautious behaviour towards trusting people, I honestly do not think he will simply approach ANYONE out there just to dig for their affection. I believe it is love at first sight for his case. Even if he may not understand what exactly is love in the romantic sense, I strongly believe he slowly came to realize that after spending some time with her.

It was mentioned that Saeran will develop his other personality under influence of drug, where his attitude becomes easily irritated and 'high' due to the influence of excess dopamine and other neurotransmitters that caused an influx of an emotional and pleasure rush into the brain. Overdose and over stimulation will cause euphoric effects for a short period of time. Because the body and brain also understand that such feelings, despite the fact that it is syntactically induced, is a good feeling, the user will start to thirst for those feelings and hence, the drug craving. The drug also seems to act as an amplifier to whatever feelings the person have inside. One of the reasons why Saeran don't want to take the drug is because it will cause gastric discomfort. Some drugs has such side effects, especially when taken with an empty stomach. Saeran is noted in the plot to not take his meals diligently or that he is not eating proper food.

Some chemical structures of those drugs mimicked our brains' own neurotransmitters and fool our brain receptors, allowing them to attach to our neurons competitively (sorry for some scientific terms). Also, because the chemical structures are not exactly the same as those that our body produce, the activation of neurons will differ from what the effects is supposed to be. Hence, the euphoric effects induced will also differ from person to person and depending on what kind of drugs they took in. That's all about drugs and their effects for now because if I were to really go on, this will stretch for several more pages (I major in pharmaceutical chemistry so...).

Next, I will touch on his personality changes. It is noted that his personality will drastically change after drug intake. There are also several occasions when he was still Ray, but also aware that Unknown is still awake within him but repressed, because Ray himself is actually who Saeran is originally (apart from the affection deprived nature). Let's not forget that since young, that psychopath, I mean, Rika, took him away from V, make use of him and brainwashed him, influenced him for years before he became self loathing and etc like what we see in the plot. We know that children are pure and tend to soak in information like sponge. For Saeran's case let's just say that he came into contact with really sick influence long-term by the psychopath named Rika. So much that his mindset towards certain things, about humanity and such, became twisted. Rika showed him care and affection, and probably has been telling him, convincing him for years that no one other than her cared for him.

However, when Rika mentioned wanting to cleanse MC herself, and wanted to spend some alone time with her, Saeran became VERY concerned. He probably is aware and has his own way of thinking because he did mention that he stopped taking the drug for some time. Rika herself is the devil while the so called devil that reside in Saeran appears only during drug induction. To put it simply, the lock and key system.

There is also another reason why I am convinced that Saeran truly loved MC. Despite people saying that he is obsessed with MC, trying to please her to make her stay and such, that is just not the case entirely. MC went to V's side later in the plot, although Saeran did mentioned a few times of wanting to bring her back, in the end, he did not. He just don't want MC to hate him. Being disliked by the person you really like is painful as hell. He gave up the idea and instead, requested to chat through phone calls, mentioned in one of the calls I think. Do not forget that, Saeran doesn't know what normal people do to pursue the person of romantic interests in norm social terms because he is shut in that asylum for years before he was granted permission by Rika to venture out, probably to recruit people. Although there is something called the internet, for a person who has minimal contact with society, will be crippled when first hand contact with people is involved. They do things by book.

He could have bring the MC back to him by force but during his last moments fully gave up the idea and sincerely wished for her to be happy. He did not hate her or blame her. Or guilt trip her any more, not because he gave up but, rather, wants her to live a happy life. Because he knew, MC is a great person. And he probably did not deserve her. That self loathing attitude came from there but we all knew he made peace with himself during those two final phone calls with her. He died with regrets, but let it end at that, by saying goodbye to her in his monologue before activating the bomb.

I may not have the best analysis of him and there are many others with different opinion. However, Saeran needs drug purge from his body and intense amount of therapy to correct his mentality because Ray side of Saeran, is negotiable from what I observed during the plot, if the key person is there with him. Like, MC or Sae Young for instance.

As much as I liked V, he shouldn't have lied. We could have Rika captured, V and Saeran going into treatment and therapy. No one has to die or be hurt. It is the approach and the presence of people who truly care that matters.

[settngfire]

 was  that   kj  apa  ?       oh  no  no ,  that  was  just    rich  goranski ,  a   canon  character   from   be  more  chill.        they  are   eighteen   years  old  and   are   aware  that  they  are  not  actually  from  washington  dc. 

 he’s  bi ,  he’s  five  foot  five ,  he  has  a  lisp ,  he’s  new  in  town      ————      so  rich  is   …   a  lot   &   i’m  gonna  give  a  rundown  on  his  backstory  in  be  more  chill  because  i  don’t  know  who  has   &   hasn’t  seen  it   &   i’m  sure  it  looks  pretty  confusing   &   weird  if  you  don’t  know  what’s  going  on !      &   you  should  also  note  that  the  backstory  i  give  also  includes  a  lot  of  headcanoned  information !       it  also  might  be  long  as  hell .      feel  free  to  skip  it  straight  to  when  i  talk  about  him  in  dc !

i.    freshmen  year  !     i  didn’t  have  a  girlfriend  or  a  clue !     i  was  a  loser ,  just  like  you  !       ————          (  tw :  suicidal  thoughts ,  alcoholism ,  child  neglect  )    

his  freshmen  year  of  high  school ,  rich  was  at  the  absolute  bottom  of  the  social  latter .      he  was  seen  as  a  disgusting  dweeb   &   most  people  at  the  school  didn’t  even  seem  to  notice  he  even  existed .      at  home  things  weren’t  much  better ,  either .     it  was  just  him ,  his  older  brother ,   &   their  alcoholic  father  who  neglected  care  for  his  two  sons  often  which  left  rich  &   his  brother  often  fending  for  themselves  via  money  from  rich’s  brother’s  job  or  rich  stealing  money  from  their  father .       &   when  he  wasn’t  not  paying  attention  to  his  sons ,  rich’s  father  was  typically  yelling  at  them .       rich’s  situation  of  a  bad  home  life   &   no  friends  weighed  horribly  on  his  depression   &   made  him  horribly  self  loathing ,  hopeless ,   &  even  extremely  suicidal .

ii.    no  longer  a  drip  when  you’ve  got  in  your  grip  a  squip !      ————          ( tw :  drug  use ,  self  harm ,  alcoholism ,  underage  drinking  )

during  the  summer  following  his  freshmen  year ,  rich  found  what  he  thought  would  be  his  salvation  in  the  form  of  a  grey  oblong  pill  know  as  a  S.Q.U.I.P. .      the  squip ,  he  was  informed ,  was  new ,  untested ,  (  illegal )   technology  from  japan .      squip  stood  for  Super  Quantum  Unit  Intel  Processor   &   it  was  a  supercomputer  inside  a  pill  you  could  ingest .     when  you  took  the  pill ,  the  computer  would  move  to  your  bloodstream  until  it  reached  your  brain  then  it  would  implant  itself  there  &  ,  once  activated  via  drinking  mountain  dew ,  it  would  speak  to  you  directly  through  your  mind  &  teach  you  how  to  “ improve  your  life ” .      after  taking  it ,  rich’s  squip  improved  his  appearance  over  the  summer  to  make  rich  muscular  to  make  up  for  his  short  stature   &   dress  nicer .    it  also  forced  rich  to  learn  to  speak  without  the  lisp  he  had ,  having  rich  either  physically  hit  himself  when  he  spoke  with  it  or  giving  him  a  light  shock .      when  school  began ,  most  didn’t  remember  rich  at  all   &   assumed  he  was  a  new  student  &  rich  quickly  climbed  the  social  latter   &   even  became  friends  with  the  most  popular  boy  in  school ,  jake  dillinger .     though  rich  didn’t  like  it  much ,  his  squip  forced  him  to  take  on  bullying  his  unpopular  &  weaker  peers ,  making  him  the  notable  school  bully   &   a  terror  to  the  uncool .     at  home ,  the  squip  could  also  filter  rich’s  emotions  or  thoughts  to  deal  with  his  abusive  alcoholic  father .     rich  had  his  squip  dictating  his  life   &   controlling  his  personalty  the  entirety  of  his  sophomore  year   &   then  onto  his  junior  year  where ,  around  mid  fall ,  it  began  to  have  rich  trying  to  sell  squips  to  other  students  such  as  jeremy  heere .     though  it  kept  him  from  suicide   &   made  him  socially  popular ,   rich  did  disagree  with  his  squip   &   it’s  overbearing  control  on  his  life  on  occasion .      he  also ,  in  his  time  with  it ,  picked  up  stealing  his  father’s  liquor   &   drinking  to  try   &   have  time  away  from  his  squip  since  it  couldn’t  function  when  it’s  host’s  brain  was  intoxicated .     due  to  alcoholism  in  his  family ,  rich’s  drinking  became  somewhat  habitual .       rich’s  struggles  with  his  squip  continued  in  his  junior  year  up  until  halloween  at  jake’s  halloween  house  party .

iii.    rich  set  a  fire   &   he  burned  down  the  house !    woah !     ————       ( tw :   suicide  attempt ,  suicide  attempt  via  burning  alive ,  house  fire ,  near  death  experience ,  severe  injury )    

at  jake’s  halloween  party ,  rich   &  his  squip’s  disagreements  finally  reached  a  snapping  point .      when  it  wouldn’t  let  rich  drink  to  silence  it ,  rich  took  things  a  step  further   &   tried  to  find  a  way  to  shut  down  his  squip  entirely  which  enraged  it .     throughout  the  party ,  rich  seemed  deranged  as  he  fought  against  the  squip  for  control  of  his  own  body  as  he  tried  to  find  the  one  thing  that  would  shut  off  the  squip :   mountain  dew  red .      most  of  his  peers  at  the  party  assumed  he  was  on  something ,  though ,  &  didn’t  think  to  help  him .      around  3am ,  though ,  things  got  out  of  hand .      in  a  desperate   &   crazed  attempt  to  rid  himself  of  the  squip ,  rich  started  a  fire  in  attempt  to  burn  himself  alive  if  only  to  be  free  of  the  voice  in  his  head   &   the  person  it  was  forcing  him  to  be .     the  fire  quickly  got  out  of  control   &   ,  though  no  one  was  killed ,  it  did  end  up  burning  jake’s  house  to  the  ground .     jake  himself  also  broke  both  his  legs  in  the  chaos  while  saving  rich  from  the  building .     rich  suffered  extreme  burns  over  his  entire  body  but  survived   &   was  rushed  to  the  hospital .      at  school ,  news  of  rich   &   the  fire  flooded  any  gossip .     people  began  rumors  on  why  he  did  it ,  especially  when  many  pointed  out  they  never  saw  rich  touch  any  alcohol  or  drugs  during  the  party ,   &   some  even  speculated  that  he  was  dead .      his  tragedy  became  the  juiciest  topic  at  the  school   &   ,  despite  how  horrible  it  was ,  people  seemed  to  love  it  for  the  story .

iv.     the  ladies  are  gonna  love  the  new  richard  goranski   …   &   the  dudes  …         ————         (  tw :  none !  )

in  ICU ,  pain  medication  given  to  rich  deluded  his  mind  enough  to  escape  the  squip’s  influence ,  allowing  him  to  receive  help  in  the  form  of  mountain  dew  red  from  michael  mell  after  telling  michael  what  would  shut  off  a  squip  so  that  he  could  save  his  friend  jeremy  from  the  same .    with  no  squip  after  the  pain  medication  began  to  wear  off ,  rich  was  allowed  to  think  entirely  independently  for  the  first  time  in  over  a  year   &   a  half .      his  lisp  came  back  out  since  it  had  no  more  consequences  &   rich  began  to  rediscover  himself  in  all  the  parts  of  him  that  his  squip  had  forced  him  to  repress ,  including  the  realization  that  he’s  actually  bisexual .       even  if  he  knows  he’s  a  bit  of  a  loser ,  he’s  glad  to  finally  be  himself  again  for  once .

*  RICH  IN  DC  !

so  thanks  for  getting  through  all  that  here’s  the  important  stuff !

rich  is  almost  entirely  musical  based ,  though  i  may  throw  in  bits  of  influence  from  the  novel  here   &   there !

 he’s  taking  from  about  a  year  post  the  whole  squip  incident ,  he’s  finishing  up  his  senior  year  of  high  school  here ,  debating  on  whether  college  is  his  thing .     he’s  still  pretty  new ,  only  been  here  a  month  maybe .     he’s  glad  to  be  out  of  new  jersey  since  things ,  you  know ,   didn’t  go  awesome  there .

 despite  it  being  off ,  some  of  what  he  learned  from  the  squip  is  ingrained  in  his  subconscious   &   though  he’s  usually  very  unashamed  of  being  himself ,  he  can  still  be  self  conscious  about  some  things  because  a  computer  told  him  he  was  a  pathetic  hopeless  nobody  for  over  a  year .      that  kinda  stuff  damages  you  psychologically .

his  personality  is  a  mix  of  who  he  became  with  the  squip   &  who  he’s  learned  he  is .    he’s  loud   &   hardly  ashamed   &   also  can  be  obnoxious  but  he’s  no  longer  a  bully   &  can  be  an  extremely  enthusiastic  friend  if  you  let  him .

he  can  be  moody   &   rough  around  the  edges  sometimes ,  especially  since  he’s  still  coming  to  terms  with  dealing  with  his  emotions  head  on  by  himself  again .

he  has  a  fake  ID   &   since  drinking  became  so  much  a  habit  when  with  the  squip  he  hasn’t  shaken  it .     he’s  actually  slipping  to  becoming  an  alcoholic  at  a  worrisome  rate .

he  has  burn  scars  all  over  his  body .    they’re  not  cute   &   they  even  get  on  his  face  some   &   reach  one  of  his  ears .    he’s  missing  some  hair  around  his  left  ear  due  to  it .     he  typically  hates  talking  about  them ,   &   for  good  reason .

he’s  short ,  only  five  foot  five ,  but  very  muscular  still  so  don’t  underestimate  his  strength  by  his  size .

his  hair  used  to  be  blond  with  a  red  streak  in  the  middle ,   he  messed  up  last  time  trying  to  dye  it   &   just  made  it  all  red  instead .

HE’S  GOT  AN  OBVIOUS  LISP !   he’s  a  lispy  boy  but  sometimes  will  try  to  hide  it  because  it’s  one  of  the  main  things  he’ll  get  self  conscience  over .

i  hc  the  squip  as  able  to  come  back  on .     the  mountain  dew  red  turned  it  off ,  yes ,  but  it’s  a  computer .     it  can  be  turned  back  on .    all  rich  has  to  do  is  drink  regular  mountain  dew   &   it  will  reboot .      he   does  try  to  stay  away  from  mountain  dew  because  of  this  but ,  hey ,  accidents  can  happen .

[funkymbtifiction]

Empathy and sympathy in Fe/Fi

Can you explain the difference between Fe vs Fi in terms of showing they care or even caring about others? Maybe you answered this in which case I’ll do my research through the archives… but maybe not as specific as I am going to get into in a moment… So we established that I am most like a higher order Fi user which I get now, so let me think of an example from myself…

Ok, here’s one when someone I care about  or even someone I do not care about so much shows they are feeling bad about something— say, they think they are stupid! I will go into a barrage of “you are not stupid…” and they’ll be like “ok, ok, I get it but I don’t agree…” then I’ll formulate a thousand things they did that makes them appear really smart and that made me think they were really smart. I don’t want to shut up until they feel better about it, and hey sometimes they don’t feel better about it. But they’ll tell me to shut up and eventually I do— maybe I’ll even take it TOO far- but how would a Fe maybe do this differently? Maybe this is a behavior vs. intention thing and I get that “cognition” is huge over behavior. Bet a ENTJ can unite two opposing forces to get a future project together. But I don’t always feel like I can put these people into my shoes at all nor is this a “person I want to be”. It just is. So I assume Fi can’t always need to sympathize to support people?

I imagine both Fe and Fi sympathize and empathize with others. Those are words that are universal in the English language— everyone is taught those words in like, 3rd grade. But Fe sounds so much like “empathy” and Fi so much like “sympathy.” It sounds like asking people, are you empathic or a sympathetic?? I mean Fe and Fi both have to be able to put themselves in the world of another person, right? So how does Fe and Fi sympathize and empathize differently internally (back at that intention over behavior?)

Like, you have a class of kids in school and they all failed your test. You want to curve it because hey, that sucks to be them. There must be something wrong with your test and you tell the kids “don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine. It won’t mess up your grade.” I mean— isn’t that a universal feeling of empathy? Fi doesn’t have to sympathize with it in order to understand it and help it? And Fi doesn’t have to want to be this “nice person” identity in order to do so right? I hope my question is clear but it’s probably not.

I have people in my life I need to type and I think Fi vs Fe has been the hardest one to get my head around.

I really don’t think there’s much difference, apart from Fi automatically self-inserting into the situation (have I been through something similar? how would I feel in their situation?) vs. Fe’s “you’re sad, I feel it, I’m sad too” approach.

Here’s a weird comparison that may or may not be useful; awhile back, my dad and I went to a fundraiser for a local large cat sanctuary, where they provide homes for tigers, lions, cougars, etc, who have been abused, abandoned, neglected, or who have lost their homes due to zoos and circuses shutting down. I’d signed up a couple of years earlier to sponsor a tiger, but when it came to choosing one, when the woman asked me which, I had zero ability to pick one. Call it NeFi, or poor Fi, but I felt bad choosing one I had no real connection to, so I told her “Just pick the current neediest one* and let me know.” So she did, and that’s “my” tiger.

Well, we were seated at this table with several other people, one of whom’s sponsored lion had just passed away a few months ago. She had come hoping to “find the right cat” to sponsor now; and as a Fi-dom (ISFP?) she said, “I’ll know the right one when I see it, it will speak to me.” I could not relate, but hope she found one that day.

My Fe-using father found it odd too, because in his words, as we drove home, “I don’t need a connection to give… I just need a good cause.” He chose the lions as a category, but let them choose a lion for him, much as I did, not because he felt overwhelmed at choosing one / picking one over all the rest (my motive), but because “I just want to give, which lion receives it doesn’t really matter to me. The cause is important.”

So, there you have it – three different types who gave, all touched by the same need, but who personalized or kept it impersonal in the process. Was it empathy? Sympathy? Dunno, does it matter so long as we did something? The Fi-dom wanted a specific connection. The Fi-aux just wanted to help. The Fe-dom saw it as a “good cause.” (I should add here that my STJ mother decided to sponsor two kids in China. She looked at how old they were / how long they had been without a sponsor, and chose that way. I doubt her feelings factored into the choosing much beyond, “This is the right thing to do, and I have to pick someone… so how about these two, who need it most?”)

When typing others in your life, look at how they express their feelings, rather than guessing at their motives. Fe/Ti axis are comfortable and affluent with words; Fi/Te axis are more inclined to show feelings through actions.

All types will comfort and affirm those they care about (your example of arguing against self-loathing) but all the introverted judging functions speak through their extroverted counterpart, so a Ti/Fe will use Fe (sharing of feelings) and a Fi/Te will use Te (stronger language / firmness).

- ENFP Mod

* This is so typical of my life. I go to animal shelters and pick the one closest to death row / who has not been adopted the longest, because they ‘need me’ the most, rather than forming a ‘bond’ with them beforehand.

[cezulian]

i think you mightve addressed this, but what are your thoughts on the movie's grouping of belch and vic more or less together, and henry and patrick on the other end? i know in the book that's indeed what does happen and eventually culminates in the junkyard scene, but in the movie he seems... markedly closer to patrick-- im fairly certain patricks the only one he really addresses by name even if it is just 'pAt'. apparently he was closer to vic in the 2014 draft...?

I don’t actually know if its something I’ve addressed or not either but I do think that the grouping is interesting and I’m very curious about the relationship between Patrick and Henry in the movie as well.

Like I do ‘t know how intentional their closeness was meant to be. Maybe it wasn’t written in initially at all (by which I mean directed that way) and it was just a combination of the two actors having more opportunity to play with their characters and the resulting on-screen chemistry. I agree though that Patrick definitely seems to behave more like Henry’s right hand man (instead of his left-hand man, like in the book OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!) but that could just be because of Patrick’s mirroring of Henry’s behaviors and role as the enabler of his more disturbing behaviors. The framing in the shot where Henry is intimidating Bill in front of the school is FANTASTIC (and follows a theme present throughout the film’s visual dialogue of “danger in the background”, where a threatening force or character is placed behind the shot’s main focal point and put out of focus to illustrate the “true” driving force behind that scene’s focus and therefore support the narrative of a story about monsters who lurk behind the seemingly obvious antagonizing force. Ghgghggg I could talk about that shit all day long) and I suggest everyone watch it again and really pay attention to the camera movement, actor placement, and of course, Owen Teague’s non-verbal acting. The way it starts with a wide shot of the three bullies (technically 4 because Vic is just chillin) and then as Henry advances on Bill, phases out Vic and then Belch until Patrick is the only one we can see in that shot behind Henry because that’s quite literally how it happened in the book. The more intense Henry got, the more we started to see Vic’s investment in his plans fade away until eventually he became disenchanted with the whole thing. Then we saw signs of Belch starting to mature and outgrow his bullying ways and we got the idea that his investment was starting to fade as well. And then, when Henry was at his worst, the only one supporting him was Patrick, lurking in the background, loving that Henry had pretty much reached rock bottom, and not going anywhere any time soon. They literally took the entire arc of the bullies deciding they were kind of done with Henry’s increasingly violent bullshit except for Patrick who got off on it and was trying to get Henry to do learn to do the same, and condensed it into a single shot visually represented by removing each actor from the frame as it became more and more obvious that Henry was gonna freak out on someone until all we were left with was Patrick, out of focus, influencing Henry, and getting off on it. (Which, by the way, have you guys noticed that its whenever Henry’s back is turned that Patrick becomes more sinister and lecherous in his mannerisms than when he’s within Henry’s line of sight? I mean there’s the scene I just talked about, where he stops smiling a second or so after Henry starts walking towards Bill, stops smiling and giggling completely while for the rest of that bit and is instead staring, breathing extremely hard and fast, and at one point even looks Henry up and down, then by the time Henry decides he’s just gonna bounce, Pat is back to giggling and smiling again. Plus, there’s the bridge scene, particularly the part right before Henry starts carving into Ben, where we barely see Patrick behind Henry but of what we do see of him he’s on the verge of hyperventilating and again has a very serious face on. Its only when Henry looks behind him at Patrick that Patrick grins a little bit, but then he’s right back. I dunno. The deleted scenes might blow this shit right outta the water, but Patrick seemed like he definitely had two distinct modes when it came to reacting to Henry terrorizing those kids and strategically opted to only let Henry see the “this is so funny you’re doing a great job” mode instead of the “full-blown orgasm” mode.)

But seriously, watch that scene over and over again.

But my point in talking about that is that its almost like they did too good of a job illustrating that Patrick was there as a bad omen more or less, because Owen fucking stole every scene he was in and the directing already planned to put him in a position that was prominent in how unassuming it was to make a point about his character. I’m not saying they needed a worse actor for Patrick to even some shit out or anything, I’m just saying that I think that’s what maybe caused us to view he and Henry as close.

But its also possible, and my personal theory, that in the movie universe Patrick and Henry’s symbiotic dynamic really had time to grow into a full-on codependency where it couldn’t in the book, because in the movie universe they’ve known each other from a very young age to late high school, not just elementary, and that dynamic has sort of become something of a friendship in the process, if that makes sense? Like to me, Patrick and Henry’s relationship seemed to vibrate on this very tense, low-register wavelength where both parties recognized that the other was capable of some deeply disturbing stuff, respected the reality of that, and recognized that they were very much similar people but that strong, thrumming, almost ethereal vibration made the idea and the act of casually hanging out kind of weird because they were so comfortable with those deeply buried, darker aspects of one another on a level so profound it went unspoken about and to leave the two of them alone without the other members of the gang would be to leave them to sit in silence because they never had that gradual development of friendship that Henry probably had with Vic and Belch where you learn all these superficial things about another person until you decide you wanna hang out more and once you do that you eventually become friends. It was an attachment formed based on the most unhealthy parts of their beings that grew downwards and rooted itself to the ground instead of growing up into the open air. But with Vic and Belch, I feel like they’re probably grouped together because of how light their friendship is with Henry in terms of comfort and typical aspects of a normal friendship. Their fondness and loyalty towards Henry was able to grow up into the open air because they, unlike Patrick, probably had regular interests and a few friends besides Henry when their friendship began forming, so it developed based off of curiosity and interest before it ever turned into loyalty and support. Patrick and Henry’s friendship was based off of an intense sense of knowing and the desire for validation. Henry and Patrick: Choleric and Sanguine. Vic and Belch: Melancholic and Phlegmatic. If Patrick and Henry’s friendship could sound like something, it would sound like the cover of “Back to Black” by Beyoncé featuring André 3000 as appearing on the official soundtrack for writer/director Baz Luhrmann’s 2013 cinematic masterpiece “the Great Gatsby”. If Vic and Belch’s friendship with Henry could sound like something, it would sound like “To You I Bestow” by Mundy as appearing on the official soundtrack for writer/director Baz Luhrmann’s 1996 cinematic masterpiece “Romeo + Juliet”. I hope I’m making an ounce of sense in all this because I know exactly what I mean.

This is, obviously, more than anything my interpretation of how I read their relationships and very far off from an objective analysis on why they grouped off several characters from several others when they’re sort of supposed to be acting as a unit, but I do believe it had a lot to do with the accelerated pace of Henry’s moral decay in part due to Patrick’s already established presence as a part of the gang, which sort of leaves Henry’s mental state at the beginning of the film a bit confusing considering that Patrick plays largely the same role that he does in the book as a catalyst for Henry’s descent into years of bottled up repression and self loathing-induced madness, or at least that seems to have been the intention going into the production. If we go by the logic, though, that Henry’s pretty much already “getting there” by the time the movie starts, it would sort of make sense that Vic and Belch would be grouped together: they’re not trying to fuck around with Patrick and his nonsense and hate that he’s there, they’re afraid of Henry and not sure where he’s going with anything he’s doing, and the only thing keeping them with him at this point is loyalty and genuine friendship that Henry might not even notice or appreciate. They really probably feel backed into a corner by all of it, and honestly I’d sit down, shut up, and wait for the part where I can start having fun with the friend I thought I knew if I were in their position too.