#especially if you come from a background of childhood trauma

[illiana-mystery]

Professor Charles Taylor, Fireflies in the Garden (2008)

[cruel-seduction]

Not So Golden Now, Are You?

Summary - Where in your not-quite-friendship with James Potter thrives on mutual mockery—you call him daddy’s babygirl because he flaunts his daddy's money, he calls you whatever gets under your skin fastest. It’s never serious… until he parrots back a joke you made about your looks, the kind of joke people only make after crying over it alone.Which you were sure that you never made about him. What he thought was harmless banter turns out to be your breaking point, and while everyone else laughs it off, you don’t. Not this time. And now James—cocky, clueless, James—is stuck trying to fix a crack he didn’t mean to make, humiliating himself in ways no Marauder ever has… all in the hopes of earning a single, goddamn, laugh from you again.

Tone: Gritty, emotional, enemies-to-lovers like kinda (idk I am confused myself. What do you mean just cause I wrote it I should know what it means) with heavy hurt/comfort and a golden boy begging for forgiveness.

Part - 2

There was a particular type of hell reserved for group hangouts where everyone was prettier than you. You know the kind—flawless skin, perfect hair, the kind of laugh that didn't sound like a dying kettle.

And unfortunately for you, that was every single Gryffindor gathering.

Especially when Lily Evans was present. With her radiant glow, timeless hair, and bone structure carved by Aphrodite’s jealous cousin. And not to forget Marlene McKinnon, who looked like she got ready by having woodland creatures sing her into a custom-tailored outfit.

Meanwhile, you looked like you were personally styled by anxiety and unresolved childhood trauma.

You were sitting cross-legged in the Gryffindor common room, huddled in a circle on worn rugs and beat-up couches with the usual suspects: Sirius, James, Remus, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas… and unfortunately, you.

You were always the +1. A friend of a friend. Mostly tolerated. Occasionally useful. Never the moment. Or that’s what you liked to believe. You leaned back on your palms, casting a casual glance at Lily, who was radiant even while fiddling with her shoelace.

And then you did what all insecure, self-deprecating people do—you made a joke before anyone else could beat you to the punch. “Some girls are born to be photographed. I was born to stand next to them and make them look like paid models by comparison.”

It was said with a wink and a smirk, aimed at Lily—because that's what you did. Make fun of yourself first, before someone else could. Maybe to hear that you’re not just a background character. Those people actually liked hanging out with you. That you were not a charity case. The group chuckled. Lily swatted your shoulder gently, "Oh, come on, you're gorgeous, shut up."

You held up your hand. “No, no. I bring balance. I’m the garlic bread on the table of ten-star entrées. Comforting. Slightly burnt. Easily ignored once the main course arrives.”

Sirius snorted. “You are the garlic bread. Bit crunchy, slightly dangerous, but always there.” You faked a smile, the thing you have mastered for years.. “See? Someone appreciates my contribution to visual mediocrity.”

James was leaning back in one of the armchairs, lazily bouncing a snitch between his fingers. You hadn’t said much to him—your friendship was more a result of mutual proximity than actual emotional investment. You didn’t like him, really. Or that’s what you tried to believe whenever your heart beats too loud near him or whenever you catch yourself smiling, whenever he laughs or whenever you care about him too much but c’mon friends care about each other. That’s not love. Right?. He was loud, always joking, and had a superiority complex that made you want to shove him into a broom closet and lock the door.

Still. He had his moments.

“Honestly,” he said, voice casual, “we should give (Y/N) a badge or something. Hogwarts’ Official Pretty-Girl Enhancer.” He didn’t even look up. Just tossed the snitch in the air again. “Without her, hot girls everywhere would lose contrast.”

There was a beat of silence. Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just… still.

Like someone had knocked the air out of your lungs without touching you. And then, like the smug bastard he was, he added with a grin, “MVP of average.”

Your face didn’t move. You didn’t laugh. You always laughed at yourself, even if it hurt—but not this time. Because he said it with such ease. Such dismissive amusement. Like it was true. Like he just casually confirmed the thing you’d been trying to pretend wasn’t already gnawing at your insides.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Oi, she’s gonna hex your balls off, Prongs.”

James just shrugged. Still grinning. Still not looking at you. And you? You wanted to melt into the floorboards. Or maybe launch yourself off the Astronomy Tower. Either one was fine.

You looked around—Remus furrowed his brow slightly, eyes flicking toward you, but didn’t say anything. Peter was too busy stuffing his face with biscuits. Marlene giggled absently.

But Lily. Lily noticed. Her gaze snapped to you, sharp and immediate.

She cleared her throat, forced a smile. “So! Who’s ready for Hogsmeade this weekend? I heard Honeydukes is stocking those fizzy sugar spiders again—”

And just like that, the moment passed.

Except it didn’t. Not for you.

Because you weren’t angry. Not really. You were humiliated. Quietly. Sharply.

And that was always worse.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

James Potter didn’t think much of it at first.

You always laughed at jokes. Even the ones aimed at you. Especially the ones aimed at you. It was your thing—sarcasm, wit, never letting anything stick long enough to scar. You insulted him all the time. Called him an overgrown golden retriever with the emotional range of a teaspoon. Told him he looked like a walking ego with legs. And he gave it right back—always.

So when he made that comment earlier about you being the "MVP of average," he expected you to roll your eyes, maybe call him a narcissistic broomstick with daddy’s money, and then snatch the last chocolate frog from his hand out of spite.

He didn’t expect silence.

He didn’t expect that deadpan look on your face.

He didn’t expect you to leave the circle early, claiming you had to finish a Potions essay you definitely finished last week. But hey. Maybe you were just tired. That’s what he told himself.

Right up until that night.

The dorm was dimly lit, soft firelight flickering across the old stone walls. Sirius was balancing Bertie Bott’s beans on his nose, Peter was whining about something in his sleep, and James was halfway through retelling a Quidditch story that no one had asked for.

That’s when Remus spoke. Quiet. Cold. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

James blinked. “Er—what?” Remus didn’t look up from his book. “About what you said to (Y/N).”

Sirius, for once, stopped being a jackass long enough to glance up too. James frowned. “It was a joke. We always—she always says worse things about herself.”

“You just took someone’s worst fear and turned it into a punchline,” Remus said. His voice wasn’t angry. That would’ve been easier. It was disappointed. And that? That cut deeper. “She doesn’t think she matters, James. And you just proved it.”

And then it hit him.

The way your laugh hadn’t had that sharp, mischievous ring to it. No sass. No playful dig. Just… that sound. Bitter. Hollow. Like someone smiling at their own eulogy.

He sat up straighter. His mind flicked back to earlier—your crossed arms, your stiff posture, the way you stared at the fireplace without saying a word while the rest of them laughed.

The way Lily had cut in, voice suddenly chipper, shoving the conversation forward like she was trying to outrun something. The way you never came back with a comeback.

And James Potter, who could bullshit his way out of every detention, every prank, every emotional disaster, suddenly found himself choking on silence.

His breath caught.

All he could see was your face when he said it. That flicker in your eyes. That little twitch of your mouth that wasn’t amusement—it was restraint. Control. You’d been swallowing it down, choking on the embarrassment while he and Sirius laughed like idiots.

“You think she’s fine because she’s funny,” Remus muttered, standing and tossing his book onto the trunk at the foot of his bed. “But sometimes funny is just... the mask.”

James didn’t sleep that night.

Because now he remembered every time you called yourself “forgettable,” how you always stood behind Lily in photos, how you never really let anyone compliment you without joking your way out of it.

And now? Now he realized he hadn’t made a joke. He’d hit the bullseye on someone’s deepest wound and laughed about it.

He remembered the way you stayed up all night when Remus was sick during exams, rewriting all his notes, color-coded and organized like some kind of academic art piece.

How you always, always made Sirius laugh on his worst days. Even when he came back from Christmas break with bruises on his wrists and a cigarette burn he didn’t explain, you were there. Mocking him gently. Loving him fiercely. Whispering, “I’m proud of you, Sirius Black,” like your voice could stitch him back together.

He remembered how you scolded them like a mother one minute and made them snort Butterbeer through their noses the next. How your eyes always twinkled before a comeback. How you once threw your shoe at him for transfiguring your ink into glitter, then asked if he was cold and tucked a scarf around his neck anyway.

He loved that about you.

God, he loved you.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Not to himself. Not out loud. Not when everything between you was built on chaos and roasting each other like Sunday dinner. But you mattered to him. And tonight, he’d made you feel like you didn’t.

He’d taken the thing you feared most—and instead of seeing it, understanding it, protecting it—he’d dragged it out in front of your friends and slapped a joke sticker on it. All because he didn’t think. Because he figured you’d laugh. Because he always made you laugh. But you didn’t.

And now, the damage was done. James Potter had humiliated the girl he secretly, stupidly, undeniably loved. And now?

Now he was completely, utterly screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

James couldn't sleep.

His bed felt too stiff, the blankets too heavy, and every creak of the castle sounded like the echo of your laugh—that hollow, bitter one that had etched itself into his skull. He needed air. Space. Somewhere to untangle the storm inside his chest.

So he walked.

Up the stairs, past the darkened classrooms and snoozing portraits, until he reached the one place that had always helped him think. The Astronomy Tower. He pushed the heavy door open quietly, half-hoping for solitude. But he stopped dead the moment he heard it.

A soft sound. Muffled.

A sniff.

Then another.

And then your voice—barely a whisper. Wavering. “God, pull it together…”

James froze.

He crept quietly around the stone barrier, heart hammering. And there you were, tucked into the hidden nook behind the telescope—knees hugged to your chest, jumper sleeves soaked from wiping your eyes. The stars above cast pale light across your face, catching the streaks of old tears, fresh ones still trailing silently down.

He didn’t think. “Hey,” he breathed.

You jumped, swiping at your cheeks violently, like you could erase the evidence before he fully saw you. “Oh,” you croaked, blinking fast. “James.”

You said his name like it burned your mouth. “What are you doing here?” you asked quickly, voice stiff, pretending like your throat wasn’t raw.

“I could ask you the same,” he said, carefully stepping closer.

You sat up straighter, already slipping your mask back on. “I, uh—nothing, just allergies,” you lied, blinking up at the sky. “Stars make my eyes water. Bastards.” He didn’t laugh.

“Really?,” he said, gently. You didn’t look at him.

“I’m fine.” He crouched down beside you. “Are you?”

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Really. Just—long day. You know me, dramatic as ever.”

He hated that.

The way you hid pain behind humor like it was a shield. Like you weren’t allowed to be hurt. You sniffed, voice light, too light.

His jaw tensed. “Is this about earlier?”

You didn’t answer.

“I’m serious,” he said, moving to sit beside you now. “That thing I said... I didn’t mean it like that.”

You gave a little shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

“No,” he snapped, sudden and sharp. “It’s not fine.”

You turned your head, startled.

He looked at you, eyes burning. "You think I don’t see it, but I do. God, I do. I saw your face today—the way your smile cracked like glass, the way you laughed like it physically hurt, like it was splintering something inside you just to pretend. And I can’t take it. I can’t keep watching you fold yourself smaller just to make everyone else feel okay. I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me out like this, don’t lie to my face with that same soft “I’m fine” when your eyes are screaming everything but fine. I know I hurt you. I know I did. And maybe you don’t want me to carry that, but I should. I am. You’re allowed to be mad, to be heartbroken, to want to scream or cry or even hate me for what I did. You don’t have to protect me from your pain. You don’t have to smile through it just to keep the peace. I don’t want peace if it means you breaking yourself into pieces to give it. So don’t look at me like that and say it’s fine."

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak.

“I thought you’d laugh,” he said quietly. “We always mess around. I didn’t know I—I didn’t realize it was something real. That it would actually...”

He trailed off.

You exhaled shakily. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, James,” you snapped, eyes finally locking on his. “It’s mine. I told myself it was okay. That I’d be the sidekick. The friend. The funny girl who stands in the background. The contrast. Because if I say it first, if I laugh about it—then it can’t hurt, right?”

Your voice broke on the last word.

James felt like the ground had cracked under him.

“But it still did,” you whispered. “When you said it out loud, it just—it felt like someone had pulled the last thread holding me together. I don’t think you understand what that moment did to me. It wasn’t just words. It was everything I’ve ever feared, wrapped in your voice. Like it wasn’t a joke anymore. Like it was real. Like everyone around us already knew, and you just finally said it out loud. That I really am the filler in the photo. The extra. The one you crop out or blur past. The shadow to someone else’s light. I’ve felt like that for so long, like I’m just there, taking up space, trying to smile pretty enough that no one notices I don’t belong. But hearing it from you—it shattered something in me. And the way you said it, so fucking casually, like it didn’t matter... that’s what kills me. It’s like I didn’t even register as something fragile to you.

And I know I didn’t say anything. I just laughed it off like always. Like I’m good at doing. Like I’ve trained myself to do. But inside, I was screaming. I was begging for someone to just see me—really see me—and pull me out of this mess in my chest. I kept hoping, stupidly, that maybe you saw something more in me. Something worth holding onto. But maybe that was my fault. Maybe I made that up. Maybe I wanted too much. I’m sorry. No—really—I’m sorry. For having expectations. For thinking I could be someone that mattered to you, even for a second. I should’ve known better. I always do.”

His heart twisted.

You wiped your nose, furious at the tears that wouldn’t stop.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself I was fine with it,” you said, quieter now. “But when you said it? I don’t know. It felt like the whole world joined in.”

James swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

You looked away.

“I mean it,” he continued, voice thick. “I’m such an idiot. I didn’t mean it like that. When I called you the “MVP of average,” I thought I was being funny—stupid, harmless—but I wasn’t thinking, and I sure as hell wasn’t seeing. Not the way you needed me to. Not the way I should’ve. And it’s killing me, knowing those words came from me, from someone who looks at you like you hung the stars and then taught the sky how to shine. You think you’re the shadow to someone else’s light? No. You are the light. You’re the kind of light that slips through curtains at 4am and makes a broken person believe in warmth again. You're the reason color exists in a world I forgot was turning grey. And me? I’m just the fool who thought he could throw around careless jokes and you'd somehow still know how goddamn divine I think you are.”

He continued, His voice so pure of determination that it made you think he has practised this script thousand times before but the pureness in his eyes made you think otherwise. He continued “If you asked me to, I’d write your name into the marrow of my bones just so you’d know you’re etched in me. If you told me you liked the rain, I’d drown smiling just to taste what you love. I would pour honey on my heartbreak if I thought the sweetness might remind you of your laugh. I'd salt my wounds if it made them smell like your perfume. I would tear out every page where I wrote someone else's name, just to make space for yours. I didn’t say what I said because I had to—I said it because I thought I was close enough to be stupid and you'd forgive me. But I forgot… I forgot how deep words can slice, especially when the person hearing them already walks around stitched together with silence. Remus had to tell me. That’s how blind I was. You laughed, and I believed it—because I wanted to believe it. And that’s on me. That’s my failure. But now that I know? I’d beg if that’s what it takes. On my knees, on broken glass, under the weight of every word I should have never said. I’d beg a thousand times over, not just for forgiveness—but for another chance to look at you right, to say it right. Because you’re not average. You are the goddess I whisper prayers to when no one’s listening. And I—I am just the fool who didn’t realize he was already living in the temple of your presence. Let me stay. Let me make it right. Let me love you like I should’ve from the beginning.”

Your eyes flicked to his—raw, red, vulnerable. Then you stood. Fast.

The cold air caught your breath as you turned your back to him.

“You don’t get to make this about your guilt,” you said, voice low and hard. “I’m allowed to be angry, James. I’m allowed to not forgive you.”

He stood slowly behind you.

“I know.”

You didn’t look at him as you stepped toward the stairs.

“I’m not the girl who falls apart in front of people,” you said. “And I’m sure as hell not the girl who forgives the boy who made her feel invisible so easily with just some speech he gave her..”

And then you walked away.

James didn’t follow.

He just stood there—alone, under a sky full of stars—and watched the one person he wanted to make smile disappear down the steps, carrying a storm in her chest and tears he’d put there.

And for once in his life, James Potter had no idea what the fuck to do.

[writesvani]

dear me | 08

lawyer! jeonjungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death of a loved one, grief, childhood trauma, emotional vulnerability, mentions of smoking, mentions of hospitals, funeral themes, themes of loss, nostalgia, emotional dependency, performance anxiety, fear of failure, complicated parent-child relationship

comment here for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,3k // date: 28th of April

CHAPTER EIGHT — Fifteen Years and a Pinky; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hi gummies, how are you? here’s the ch 08. now, i know i told you this chapter is supposed to be 9k long and you may be surprised that it’s only 6.3k, but—listen. this chapter was originally supposed to include the night at the house too, but when i reread it i realized that three (3!!!) separate scenes would be like throwing your feelings into a blender and then stepping on it. and because the scene before the house night is raw (like steak tartare levels of raw) i didn’t want to ruin the flow. so here we are. soft. emotional. holding pinkies and sobbing.

this chapter is a bit heavy and personal for me, so if you’re thinking about sending hate asks or comments... respectfully, go touch grass. and maybe hug your grandma too while you're at it.

anyways, note goal for this chapter is 420 notes. if we hit it, you get chapter 9 which is lowkey spicey but not really but like... i sprinkled some ✨specs✨ of something in there okay. patience is a virtue, babes. see you soon.

The music at The House is doing exactly what it’s supposed to — vibing in the background like a low, steady heartbeat, not blasting your eardrums into oblivion like most places would. It's early, but a few brave locals are already perched at the bar, clutching their coffees like lifelines and pretending to be scandalized by Alex’s latest story. Honestly, half the chaos is in the fact that it’s barely 9 a.m. and he’s already causing a scene.

You can’t help but love mornings like this. Especially when the playlist is this good — Jezebel by Sade melts through the speakers, smooth and rich, and you bob your head to the beat as you sip your espresso like you’re in some cheap movie.

You and Jungkook had smartly claimed a booth instead of the bar. The bar is for nights when you need bad decisions and worse tequila. The booth? That’s strictly reserved for existential crises over coffee. Classy.

It’s almost funny how most people don’t even realize The House runs in the mornings too — it’s like an unspoken VIP pass to a secret world. Mornings here feel untouched, sacred, like you’re living inside a memory.

The place hasn’t changed.

The boy next to you — sprawled out, looking entirely too comfortable for someone with a cappuccino in hand — hasn’t either.

But you? Him? You’re not the same kids who used to think the world owed you something.

And maybe that’s the magic of it.

Or maybe it’s just the espresso talking.

“Vicky literally wanted to murder me yesterday,” Jungkook sighs, taking a small sip of his coffee.

“I think she did,” you agree, leaning back in your seat like the weight of the whole performance exhausted you. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you made it out alive.”

“She gave me a death glare that could’ve set the entire room on fire,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I think my soul left my body for a second.”

“She’s just... passionate,” you say, trying not to snicker.

“Passionate about hating me?”

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, maybe don’t exist so loudly next time.”

Jungkook presses a hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. “Brutal. Betrayed by my own favorite.”

You smile into your coffee cup, trying to hide the way your heart trips over itself at his words.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, and you hear a loud crack echo from his neck. He winces, rubbing the spot.

"Jesus," he mutters, "I don’t know if I’m just getting old or what, but my neck’s been killing me lately. Like, constantly."

You snort into your coffee. "Join the club. For me, it’s the shoulders. Doesn’t even matter how I sleep—on my side, my back, curled up like a shrimp—bam, wake up feeling like someone beat me up in my dreams."

He chuckles under his breath, nudging your foot under the table. "We’re literally falling apart and it’s not even noon."

"Speak for yourself. I’m thriving. Pain is my lifestyle choice now," you say, dramatically stretching your arms and instantly regretting it when a sharp pinch runs through your shoulder.

"Yeah," Jungkook smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like you're thriving real hard over there.”

"So, Mr. Neck Pain," you tease, swirling your coffee, "what’s next now that you’re all settled back in town?"

Jungkook groans, slouching deeper into the booth. "Ugh, don’t even ask. Nina’s on this mission to redecorate my mom’s house. I can barely keep up with everything anymore."

"Redecorate?" you blink.

"Yeah, why?" he asks, eyeing you curiously.

You shrug, playing it off. "Nothing. I just always thought you loved that house the way it was."

"I do," he says, running a hand through his hair, "but we want it to be, you know, a good place if we ever start a family."

Your brows knit together, something tugging at your chest. "But we—I mean, you—grew up there. It's already a good place."

He smiles a little sadly. "True. But you know how Nina is—she loves the latest trends, new aesthetics, all that HGTV bullshit."

You force a chuckle, but your heart isn't in it. "Yeah... I know." You pause, tracing the rim of your cup. "I just thought… there were too many good memories there for you to change it."

Jungkook’s expression softens, and he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. "We're not tearing it down, just giving it a facelift. Besides..." he trails off for a second, choosing his words carefully, "there were a lot of bad memories there too, you know."

You gulp, regret washing over you in waves.

As much as you loved that house, the memories, the time you spent there with Jungkook, you know better now. When you left, he stayed. They all stayed behind. In there.

"Shit, Kook, I’m sorry," you mumble, your voice quieter than you intend. "I wasn’t thinking."

Jungkook glances at you, his expression neutral, but you can see the tiredness in his eyes. "It’s okay," he says, but it doesn’t sound as reassuring as it should. "Really. You didn’t say anything wrong."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up. "Still... I always run my mouth before thinking."

"It’s fine," he repeats, more firmly this time, though it doesn't quite ease the tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply like he’s been holding his breath for too long. He seems like he wants to move on, but you can tell the weight of the conversation hasn’t shifted for him.

There’s a pause as he stares down at his coffee cup, swirling the contents absentmindedly. "Speaking of the devil… He called me last night."

Your stomach sinks, a tight knot forming in your chest. "How does he even know you’re back in town?"

Jungkook shrugs, looking like he’s trying to make light of it, but the slight crease in his brow gives him away. "Maybe a neighbor mentioned something. You know how it is. Small town, everyone talks."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "He said he misses me. Wants to see me."

You take a breath, your heart pounding a little faster than usual. "Kook..." Your voice softens, and you try to hold his gaze, willing him to understand. "You don’t have to go see him. You don’t owe him anything."

His eyes dart to yours, but they don’t hold the same certainty you’re used to. There’s a flicker of something there—maybe guilt, maybe doubt. "I know," he says, the words thick with hesitation. "But he’s still my dad."

You lean forward, putting your hands on the table as if grounding yourself, trying to find the right words. "Jungkook, I get that. I do. But look at what he did to you. To your family. You don’t owe him a damn thing. Not after everything he’s done."

A flash of pain crosses his face, but he quickly masks it with a forced shrug. "Maybe he’s changed." His voice is small now, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him. His words sound like a plea, a hope that hasn’t faded, despite everything. "Maybe," you say, your voice quieter than before. "But... Kook, you’ve given him so many chances. How many more does he need to mess up before you stop waiting for him to change?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares at the table, his jaw clenched. His hands are folded together, knuckles white from the pressure. The silence stretches between you like a tension-filled rope, and you hate how long it lingers.

Finally, he lets out a long, slow breath, his voice almost inaudible. "I just... I don’t know. Part of me keeps thinking that maybe one day, he’ll realize what he lost. That he’ll finally see everything I’ve done for myself. But I’m still his son, you know? I still want him to be proud of me."

Your heart aches for him, and you find yourself reaching across the table without thinking, your hand brushing against his. "Kook..." You pause, unsure how to say what you want. "You don’t need his approval. You never have. You’ve made your own path, your own life. You don’t need him to recognize that."

He meets your eyes then, and for a moment, the world outside fades into the background. He’s so tired, and it’s not just the physical exhaustion. It’s the emotional weight he carries, the years of longing for something from his father that he may never get. "I don’t know if I can just let it go," he admits quietly.

You squeeze his hand, offering him a small but sincere smile. "I know it is. But you’ve been carrying this for so long. You deserve peace, Kook. You deserve to stop wondering if he’s going to come around."

He nods slowly, but the doubt still lingers in his eyes. "I’m just... not ready to give up on him yet. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to let go. But not now."

You nod in understanding, even though you wish he didn’t feel this way. You’re not sure if he’ll ever let go of the hope that his father might change, but you’ll be here for him—whether he wants to see his dad or not.

Because even if he can’t yet walk away from that, you’ll be the one to catch him if he falls.

"So..." Jungkook leans back, stretching like he’s trying to shake off the whole conversation. "You want another coffee or what?"

You huff out a laugh, sensing the way he’s desperate to change the subject. You’ll let him. For now.

"Sure. Let’s drown our trauma in caffeine," you say, clapping your hands once.

"Aki!" you yell across the room like a drunk girl at a party.

Alex's head snaps up from behind the bar, his expression pure chaos. "I KNOW you are not hollering at me from across the damn room at 9 AM!"

You press your palms together in mock prayer, batting your lashes at him.

He points a threatening finger your way, but he's already stomping toward the coffee machine. "You better be glad you're cute. And that you called me Aki. Otherwise? I'd be filing a noise complaint on your ass."

Jungkook cackles next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the booth lazily. "Don’t blame her. She’s been a menace since birth."

"And YOU!" Alex spins dramatically toward Jungkook. "Mr. Ex-Drummer-Wannabe over there—you even THINK about ordering like that and I’m dragging you out by your sad little hair bun."

"I cut my hair," Jungkook defends, laughing so hard he almost spills his cappuccino.

"Good. One less handle for me to grab when I throw hands," Alex fires back without missing a beat.

You’re crying with laughter now, doubled over in the booth as Alex aggressively slams the espresso shots into the machine like he’s personally offended by your existence.

"Two coffees! Extra espresso! And a prayer for your broken souls!" he yells over the sound of the steamer.

You wipe a tear from your eye. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed pink from laughing.

The tension between you? Gone. Completely obliterated by the unholy spirit of Alex at 9 in the morning.

When Alex brings over your coffees, he doesn’t just drop them off and head back to the bar like a normal person. No, of course not. Alex being Alex means he slams the mugs down with a dramatic flourish, making a few drops slosh over the rims—and then, without so much as a warning, slides right into the booth beside you like he owns the damn place.

You blink at him. "Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, working?" you deadpan, scooting over an inch, not that it does anything to deter him.

"Babe, I am working," Alex says, fake-fanning himself like he’s starring in some bad soap opera. "Quality customer service. Mingling with the clientele. Boosting morale." He flashes you a smile so wide it’s practically criminal.

"You call this customer service?" you snort, narrowing your eyes.

"I call this excellence," he corrects, snapping his fingers in the air.

Jungkook leans back, grinning. "Remind me again why George hasn't kicked your ass to the curb yet?"

"Because," Alex says, stretching out his arms along the back of the booth like a king surveying his kingdom, "nobody else is stupid enough to work as a barista, bartender, waiter, and unofficial therapist at the same time."

"Unofficial therapist," you cough, laughing into your cup.

"I’ve seen things, alright?" Alex says gravely, glancing around the café like someone might overhear. "The shit people cry about at two in the morning over whiskey shots would make your hair fall out."

"You mean like that one girl who thought her cat was psychic and warning her about her cheating boyfriend?" Jungkook grins.

Alex gasps. "That girl was a treasure. And honestly, her cat probably was psychic. Men ain’t shit."

You and Jungkook crack up, nearly spilling your coffees.

"But seriously, why are you still here, Alex? You could probably have an actual desk job by now."

Alex sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Because I love this place. And because I love the poor lost souls who stumble through that door looking like they need either a double shot of espresso or an exorcism."

"You saying you love us?" Jungkook teases, winking.

Alex points straight at you without missing a beat. "Yeah. But I love her more."

He leans his full weight against you, feigning a swoon.

You shove him half-heartedly, laughing. "Jesus Christ, get off me."

"Can’t," Alex hums. "We’re bonded for life now. Future spouses. Bar booth besties. Trauma buddies."

You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your coffee cup. No matter how loud or outrageous Alex could be, moments like this reminded you why you kept coming back to The House. Why it still felt like home, even when everything else around you had changed.

Jungkook watches the two of you with amusement flickering in his eyes. For a second, the weight on his shoulders seems lighter. His smile less forced. You catch the way he lingers, looking around at the chipped wood tables, the battered jukebox, the dusty light pouring through the windows—and you realize it’s not just you clinging to the past.

“So,” you start, drumming your nails against the scratched surface of the table, “anyone interesting playing tonight?”

Alex perks up immediately, a sly smile curling his lips. “Why, you guys thinking about stopping by?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question,” you groan, tossing your head back dramatically against the seat, earning a low chuckle from both Alex and Jungkook.

“Still so easy to rile you up,” Alex teases, nudging your arm with his elbow. "But fine. Yes, there’s someone playing tonight. Some high school senior band. New kids. Pretty decent."

He glances toward Jungkook, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his blue eyes. “You’d love them if you came to watch. Especially the drummer.”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, his mug pausing halfway to his mouth. “Yeah? They any good?” He phrases it like a question but there's a lightness there—something almost hopeful.

Alex leans back against the booth, arms crossed, grinning. “Real good. Their drummer reminds me a lot of you, actually. It’s crazy."

For a moment, something shifts in the air between them—some old memory or unspoken thing passing by. You catch it, the way Alex's voice softens at the edges, the way his posture straightens just slightly when he says it.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He just hums, a quiet sound, before taking a slow sip of his cappuccino. When he sets the cup down again, there’s a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You were amazing, you know," Alex says suddenly, voice lower, more serious now as he turns his head, eyes drifting toward the small stage at the front of the café. "Everyone loved seeing you up there."

"I was nothing special," Jungkook mutters, shrugging like he's trying to make himself smaller. He rolls his shoulders, like the memory sits a little too heavy on them.

"You were," Alex insists, almost stubbornly.

You stay quiet, just watching Jungkook carefully, feeling your chest tighten a little.

He was special. He is special. But you know he struggles to see it sometimes.

“Well," Jungkook says after a beat, laughing under his breath, "thank God we have new generations now. I’m way too rusty these days anyway."

"Rusty?" Alex scoffs like it's the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. "You could still kill it. I bet you could pick up a pair of sticks right now and blow everyone’s mind."

Jungkook laughs again, but this time it’s softer, almost bashful, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "Nah, man. Really. I can’t even remember the last time I touched a drum kit."

"Doesn’t matter," Alex shrugs. "Some things you don’t forget. It’s in you, y’know? Like breathing."

You smile a little into your coffee, feeling something warm bloom in your chest as you watch them.

Because you see it—that flicker of pride, of something almost childlike—lighting up behind Jungkook’s eyes.

No matter how much he tries to brush it off, no matter how much he plays it down…

There’s a part of him that still holds onto that love.

That part hasn’t rusted at all.

“Wanna bet?” Alex leans forward, elbows on the table, a wild grin spreading across his face. “If you come by tonight, get on that stage, and play like you used to, you owe me the fattest tip The House has ever seen. I’m talking, like, a thousand bucks.”

“A thousand?” you splutter, nearly choking on your coffee. Your eyes whip between Jungkook and Alex like you’re watching a live tennis match. “Are you insane?”

Alex just shrugs, looking completely unbothered, like he didn’t just casually ask for a month’s rent.

Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, the way it always does when he's considering something reckless.

You can practically see it happening—the slow spark, the glint of mischief flickering to life behind his eyes.

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, voice low, teasing, almost daring. “And what if I suck? What if I’m absolutely terrible?”

Alex grins wider, if that’s even possible. “Then I’ll cover all your drinks. You, anyone you drag in here with you, free tabs for the next three months. No questions asked.”

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “What if I’m bad on purpose?”

“You can’t be bad on purpose, Jungkook,” Alex says, voice almost affectionate, like he’s stating a universal truth. “You don’t know how. It’s not in your DNA.”

You laugh under your breath because, honestly, Alex isn’t wrong. Jungkook could try his absolute hardest to mess up and somehow still end up being stupidly good at it.

And now you see it happening, right there in front of you—the battle playing out in Jungkook’s head.

Because no matter how calm or grown-up he pretends to be these days, underneath it all, Jeon Jungkook has never met a challenge he didn’t want to destroy.

His fingers tap restlessly against the mug, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He’s thinking about it. Seriously thinking about it.

For a second, you think he might laugh it off.

For a second, you think he might shake his head and say, “Nah, not tonight.”

But there’s a part of you—quiet, selfish—that hopes he doesn’t.

Because seeing Jungkook now, here, with the stage in the background and the hum of The House around you, feels so strange it almost aches.

Like a part of your life that belonged to someone else entirely.

And yet, it did happen.

Right here, between these old walls and scratched tables and buzzing neon lights—Jungkook was alive once.

So alive, it made your chest hurt just watching him.

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat, forcing a smile onto your lips.

You want to see that Jungkook again.

Just for one night.

Just for a song.

Maybe, just maybe… you’re not the only one who wants that too.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, crossing his arms lazily behind his head, his body slumping back into the booth like he couldn't care less.

You and Alex whip your heads toward him at the same time.

“Okay?” you both blurt out, voices overlapping in pure disbelief.

Alex’s jaw actually drops a little. His whole face lights up like someone just handed him front row tickets to his favorite band.

You swear you see sparkles in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a casual shrug, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just agree to revisit an entire part of himself he’s been quietly avoiding for years. “Game’s on. Don’t get too excited about it.”

You can’t help it.

You squeal.

Loud.

Like a literal teenager seeing her One Direction live.

“Oh my god, you’re really playing tonight?” you practically shout, bouncing in your seat.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his mug, hiding a small grin.

“Yeah. Only for the free drinks though. Because I know I’ll be terrible.”

Alex shoots you a look across the table—the look that screams I'm so winning this bet and you better remember this moment forever.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty boy,” Alex sing-songs, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m getting that one grand tip tonight. You’re gonna play like an angel and you know it.”

Jungkook snorts, setting his coffee down with a loud clink. “Dream about it, Alex. I’m washed up. I’m bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Alex says, waving him off. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m bathing in bills later.”

You shake your head, heart thudding against your ribs, still trying to wrap your mind around it.

Jungkook is playing tonight.

In this place.

On that stage.

The same one where he used to tear the house down with nothing but drumsticks and a grin.

You steal a glance at him—at the way he tries to act unfazed, too cool to care.

But you see it.

The way his fingers twitch slightly on the table.

The way his knee starts bouncing under it.

He’s excited.

Terrified maybe.

But excited.

And somehow, you feel like you're about to see a version of Jungkook tonight that’s been hiding for a long, long time.

You smile into your coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into your chest.

Tonight’s gonna be special.

You can feel it.

"Alright," Jungkook says, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"You don’t have to pay me yet, you know," Alex grins, lounging back in his seat like he’s the king of the damn world. "Everyone knows I’m winning this anyway, but still—appreciate the enthusiasm."

"Bold of you to assume that," Jungkook mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes with a small smirk. He peels a few bills from his wallet and hands them over. "This is for the coffees. Nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up."

Alex whistles low under his breath, dramatically tucking the money into the pocket of his apron like it’s sacred treasure. "Coffees are on me, but I'm keeping this. Just so you know, when you lose tonight, this is going straight into my ‘Victory Drinks’ fund."

"Dream on," Jungkook says, already pushing his chair back.

You laugh, grabbing your jacket and slinging it over your shoulders. "We’re heading out before you two start slapping each other with money."

"Already?!" Alex pouts dramatically, sticking out his bottom lip like a child about to throw a tantrum. "But this was just starting to get fun!"

"We’ll see you tonight, babe," you tease, leaning in slightly as you adjust your jacket. "Try not to miss us too much."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Alex calls after you, tossing a mock salute your way as he saunters back behind the bar, already chatting up a new group of customers like the social butterfly he is.

You glance over your shoulder once before stepping outside, the cold air nipping at your cheeks.

The door swings shut behind you, cutting off the warm hum of The House.

And as you and Jungkook walk down the sidewalk, shoulders brushing every few steps, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

"I can’t believe I’ll see you on the stage tonight," you say, your voice soft, almost quiet.

The city moves around you — the low chatter of couples at outdoor tables, the distant barking of a dog, the steady thrum of cars in the background — but right now, it feels like it's just you and Jungkook, walking side by side.

He kicks a small pebble along the sidewalk with the toe of his boot, the rhythm of his steps syncing perfectly with yours.

"Me either," he says, chuckling under his breath. "I’m gonna suck."

He tries to brush it off with a joke, but you catch it — that slight dip in his voice, the way his shoulders curl inward, the way his teeth sink into his lower lip like he’s trying to keep the doubt from slipping out louder.

"Kook," you whisper, reaching out without thinking, your fingers wrapping gently around his elbow, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. "There’s no way in hell you’re gonna suck."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s searching for something — maybe faith, maybe reassurance, maybe just a familiar face who remembers who he used to be.

"I literally bet against myself," he mutters, half-laughing, half-defeated. "I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming."

You shake your head, smiling so much it almost hurts. "I’m with Alex on this one. You’ll be great. You’ll be better than great."

Jungkook scoffs, looking away as a faint blush creeps onto his cheeks. "I’ll embarrass myself," he says, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"You could trip and fall flat on your face and people would still cheer for you," you say, bumping your shoulder against his lightly. "You have that thing, you know? That... energy. People just wanna root for you."

He laughs — a real one this time, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep, somewhere maybe he thought he buried a long time ago.

"You’re dangerous," he says, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips now, one he can’t quite hide. "You’re making me think I can actually do this."

"You can actually do this," you say simply.

For a moment, he just stares ahead, the sunlight catching in his hair, painting gold into the brown strands.

And you realize — he’s not scared of being bad.

He’s scared of remembering how much he loved it.

And maybe, deep down, he's scared of wanting it again.

"C'mon, let's go eat something," you say, grabbing a fistful of Jungkook’s jacket like a child dragging their favorite toy behind them.

Your steps turn rushed, half-skipping across the street, and you hear him laugh behind you — that soft, warm laugh that makes your chest bloom.

"Okay, okay, you don’t have to pull me," he chuckles, letting himself be tugged along, the heels of his boots scraping the sidewalk.

"You’re too slow and I’m too hungry," you shoot back, ignoring the string of playful complaints he tosses about you destroying his ‘new, very expensive, limited edition jacket.’

He doesn't actually try to break free though. He just follows, like he always does when it’s you.

You pull him into a small, tucked-away restaurant, the kind where the air smells like fresh bread and melted cheese, where the noise is low and comfortable.

Without even asking, Jungkook lets you choose the table — a cozy little booth by the window.

And somehow, as you both sit down, flipping open the greasy menus, it feels like nothing ever changed.

Not the years that passed. Not the hard things you both carried inside your chests.

Sitting across from him now feels exactly like it did when you were both younger, less guarded, less afraid.

The food comes quickly — baskets of fries and sandwiches stacked high — and you both agree without saying it that tonight's performance is off-limits, at least for now.

It’s a silent pact sealed with the clink of your water glasses.

"So you’re working tomorrow, and what after that?" Jungkook asks, stuffing a fistful of fries into his mouth, looking so casual you almost forget how his nerves had been rattling earlier.

"I think I’m gonna go to the cemetery after," you say lightly, twirling a fry between your fingers.

You don’t say it like it’s heavy.

Because it isn’t anymore.

It’s a routine. Like brushing your teeth. Like calling your mom.

It’s just something you do.

His chewing slows a little. "Nana?" he asks gently, voice dipping lower like he’s trying not to make the air around you heavier.

"Yeah," you smile a little, taking a sip of your drink. "Tomorrow’s the 15-year anniversary. Gotta go and visit her."

You joke about it, the same way you always do when you talk about it out loud. Not because it’s funny.

But because if you don’t laugh about it, it might feel too real. Too much.

Jungkook doesn’t prod.

Doesn’t tilt his head and give you the pity look.

Doesn’t say I’m sorry like everyone else does.

He just nods, tearing off a piece of his sandwich.

Because he knows.

He knows you visit her grave every month like clockwork. Knows you sit by the little marble headstone and tell her everything you can’t tell anyone else.

Knows that, as weird as it sounds, it’s almost comforting now.

Like a monthly check-in with someone who’s still somehow listening.

"It’s weird," you say suddenly, voice quieter, like you’re not sure why you’re even saying it. "Fifteen years sounds like forever. But it still feels like she’s... close. Sometimes."

Jungkook’s eyes lift to meet yours, soft and full of understanding.

"That’s because she is," he says simply.

You just smile, a real one this time. One that makes your nose crinkle.

And Jungkook smiles back, pushing the basket of fries toward you like he’s offering something bigger than food — like he’s offering comfort without making a big deal out of it.

And in that small, simple moment, you’re grateful.

Grateful that some people in your life — no matter how much time passes, no matter how much hurt sneaks in around the edges — always just get it.

"You know," you say, a small smirk playing on your lips, "I think I’m gonna bring her a pack of ciggies tomorrow. She’d be happy."

Jungkook laughs under his breath. "She’d be thrilled. I can already picture her up there in the sky, chanting, 'Smoke one for me!'"

"Literally," you snort, "that’s so her."

"Bring her some coffee too," he adds, nudging your foot gently under the table. "She only ever smoked when she had coffee."

"Maybe you can bring her the coffee," you tease.

His face softens, the teasing moment slipping into something gentler.

"You’d want me to come with you?"

You glance down, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

"Yeah... Only if you want to. No pressure."

"Of course I would," he says instantly. Then his smile fades just a little. "I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable with that. We haven’t gone there together in... ages."

"Yeah..." you trail off, the memory of old visits brushing against your mind like a ghost. Then you pause, the realization creeping up your spine. You lift your head slowly.

"Wait," you say, squinting at him, "are you saying you’ve gone to visit my Nana’s grave... alone?"

The air between you shifts — heavier, thicker.

He gulps. His shoulders tense slightly, but he doesn't back down.

"Yeah," Jungkook admits, voice smaller than before. "Whenever I came back here to visit... I’d stop by and see her too."

You blink at him, stunned.

Your heartbeat violently pulses in your ribcage — not from anger, not even from sadness, but from a fierce, overwhelming surprise.

"You..." you start, then falter. "Why?"

He fiddles with a paper napkin, his fingers slow, deliberate.

His voice is rough when he answers.

"Because you loved her so much. And because she’s the only one I ever trusted to keep an eye on you when..."

There’s a crack in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding.

It splinters something deep inside you.

"And because..." he clears his throat, like the words are caught there, too heavy to say. "Because I miss her too, you know."

You don’t realize you’re crying until your vision blurs and a tear slides down your cheek.

You wipe it away quickly, embarrassed, but Jungkook just gives you the softest look — patient and understanding — like he knew you would.

"I think," you say, voice shaking despite yourself, "I think she'd be really happy you still visit her."

Jungkook lifts his eyes to meet yours — and for a moment, the busy restaurant, the cold food between you, the people outside — all of it disappears.

"I think she'd be happy about a lot of things," he says quietly.

You don't ask what he means.

You don’t have to.

Instead, you reach across the table and brush your pinky against his — tentative, testing.

He smiles and hooks his pinky around yours without hesitation.

It’s small.

It’s quiet.

But it feels like something sacred.

"Then let’s make her happy tomorrow," you whisper.

"Deal," Jungkook smiles, and you feel a rush of emotions flooding you all at once — a tidal wave you don't even try to fight.

"You know..." you start, gently smiling at him, "I never got to thank you."

His smile falters just a little, confusion slipping onto his face. His eyes lock onto yours — steady, unwavering — and you feel yourself shrink a little under the weight of his gaze.

"For what?" he asks, voice low.

"For being there for me," you say, heart pounding, "when she died."

He shakes his head immediately, brows knitting together.

"Nonsense. You don't thank me for that. Ever."

"I have to, Kook," you whisper, feeling the lump build in your throat.

"No," he insists, voice firm but gentle. "You don't."

But you remember that day like it was yesterday.

You were still in middle school. Barely thirteen.

It was lunchtime, and you sat with your friends, Jungkook included — laughing, pretending everything was normal.

You'd told them how your Nana was sick. How you’d overheard your parents whispering late at night that the doctor said she didn’t have much time left. That it was only a matter of days.

You remembered the way everyone had reassured you.

How they promised she’d pull through.

How they smiled too big and said she was strong. That she would be fine.

You remembered coming home from school that day.

The house had felt... too quiet.

Only Leah and Vicky were there, small and scared, faces pale with something they didn’t fully understand.

Your youngest brother was at the neighbor’s house.

You remembered asking them — what's going on?

You remembered how tiny Vicky’s voice was when she said it.

"Mom said... Nana died."

You remembered standing there, rooted to the floor, unable to breathe.

You remembered the way the world cracked open under your feet.

And you remembered calling Jungkook.

Hands shaking. Voice breaking.

The only person you could think of to call.

He had answered before the first ring even finished.

And he had come over immediately, sneakers barely tied, hair a mess, face open with worry.

No questions. No hesitations.

Just him.

Just Jungkook.

Sitting with you on the cold kitchen floor.

Letting you cry into his chest until your sobs turned into hiccups.

Until your whole body hurt from it.

Until it hurt a little less.

You remember Jungkook holding you, Leah, and Vicky — small arms trying to wrap around all three of you at once.

He was just a kid too.

He loved Nana just as much.

You remember him hiding his own tears, trying so hard to be strong for you.

You remember him picking up your little brother from the neighbor’s house, walking all of you to the corner store, and buying you ice cream — like it could somehow patch up the hole inside your chest.

You remember falling asleep that night with your face buried in his shirt, your sobs wrecking your body until you were too exhausted to cry anymore — and him just holding you through it.

You remember the funeral, too.

How your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

How the world felt too big and too loud and too empty without her.

And how, without saying a single word, Jungkook hooked his pinky around yours — small and trembling — and didn’t let go the entire time.

Back then, it felt like a promise.

Like even when everything else disappeared, he wouldn't.

Now, sitting here with him years later, pinkies still finding each other without thinking, it feels like the same thing.

Maybe it was always the same thing.

"As I said," Jungkook’s voice cuts through your memories, pulling you gently back to him, "nonsense."

His tone is soft but steady, his eyes kind.

"We’re family. I’d always do that."

And without thinking, without meaning to, you tighten your pinky just a little around his.

Just to make sure he’s still there.

"I remember everything, Kook," you whisper, voice shaking.

"And you don’t even realize how much that meant to me."

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you, the softness in his eyes enough to pull the air from your lungs.

"I’m glad I was there," he finally says, voice thick. "I’m glad you called me."

You smile, watery but real.

"Me too.”

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin

[dior-luxury]

HIYYA :)! i’ve been very into the childhood!best friends to lovers, so could i ask for that with: the itoshi brothers, karasu, and yukimiya. thanks so much :))

Childhood Friend To Lover

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] sae . rin . karasu . yukimiya

- [𝐩:𝐬] emotional isolation . parental neglect . fame pressure . angst . unspoken love . kissing . family conflict . emotional withdrawal . self-doubt . loneliness . injury . trauma

Note: This scenario with them is so cute 😭I can imagine them falling in love with someone from their childhood (Especially Rin & Sae). And them falling in love with you even more during Blue Lock when they're away from you is just- ugh 😔.

Sae Itoshi

You and Sae had been inseparable since you were kids. Your houses were right next door in the quiet suburbs of Kanagawa, and your days were filled with scraped knees, shared snacks, and endless soccer matches in the park with Rin trailing behind like a determined shadow. Sae was calm and sarcastic, even back then — a little aloof, a little too smart, but he always waited for you. Always passed the ball to you first.

He was your best friend. Not in the silly, fleeting way kids say it, but the kind of best friend who snuck out to watch meteor showers with you at 3 a.m., who came to your room when his parents fought, who said nothing but always made you feel better. He always noticed when you were off — always read your silences. You never had to say much. Sae just got you.

You were the only one who saw him cry when he got selected for Spain. He looked at you like the world was ending. “I want to go,” he’d whispered, “but I don’t want to leave you.”

So he left — and didn’t look back.

For five years, you didn't speak. He didn’t answer your texts, didn’t come home during the holidays. Rin got colder. You moved on, or at least tried. But Sae was a phantom presence in everything — in the sound of the wind at night, in the rhythm of a soccer ball bouncing on concrete. You never stopped wondering what you did wrong.

And then one summer evening, he returned.

You heard his voice before you saw him — deeper, a little wearier. “You still suck at headers,” he said from behind you on the field. And there he was, tall, handsome, different — but with the same sharp eyes and infuriating smirk. Your chest ached. You hated him. You missed him.

The first few weeks were awkward. You didn’t know how to act around him, and he acted like no time had passed. He still remembered your favorite ramen order, still teased you in that infuriating, gentle way. But sometimes his gaze lingered a little too long. Sometimes he touched your wrist and didn’t let go. You caught him watching you like he was searching for the version of you he left behind — or maybe falling for the one you’d become.

One night, during a storm, you found him outside your window, soaked to the bone.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he said, voice cracking. “Not in Spain. Not here. Not anywhere.”

You let him in.

Sae kissed you like he’d been waiting his whole life for that moment — desperate, slow, reverent. All those years of silence and missed moments melted into one long, trembling kiss in the dark of your bedroom.

“You waited for me?” he asked, forehead against yours.

“I never stopped.”

Rin Itoshi

You and Rin Itoshi were neighbors in a sleepy coastal town, where soccer balls thudded against concrete and cicadas buzzed like background music. You met him before the world broke him, before Sae left and shadows curled beneath Rin’s eyes.

As kids, you’d race your bikes to the beach, dig your toes into the sand, and talk about your future. Rin always wanted to be better than his brother. Always. But he was softer then—shy, thoughtful, and surprisingly funny when he let his guard down. You were his person—the one who’d read manga with him, patch up scraped knees, or drag him out for ice cream when his parents argued about Sae’s rising fame.

When Sae left for Spain without a word, Rin shattered.

He withdrew, colder, sharper. Soccer became war, and every smile became a rare relic. But not with you.

You were the only one he didn’t push away.

He’d show up outside your window at night, bruised knuckles, sweat still clinging to his collar. He wouldn’t talk. He’d just sit, knees pulled up, letting the silence wrap around him like armor—until you offered a blanket or held his hand under the stars.

In high school, you noticed how his eyes lingered on you longer. How he’d get strangely protective, narrowing his eyes at anyone who flirted with you. How he looked at you like you were the last safe place he had.

But Rin didn’t believe in love. Not really. Not when he thought everything he cared about left him. Soccer was the only thing that made sense. Until you.

When Blue Lock called, he told you through gritted teeth. “I have to go.”

You didn’t cry. You just handed him a small photo—your favorite picture of the two of you from the beach, back when he smiled more easily.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He didn’t reply. Just nodded, jaw tight, and turned away.

But he wrote. Every week. Long, messy letters with doodles in the margins and awkward attempts to describe his days. “I got MVP. Still doesn’t feel like much.” “Missed your dumb seaweed riceballs today.” “Saw the ocean and thought of you.”

When he returned, taller, sharper, eyes colder—you were still there.

And when he saw you on that same beach, holding the photo he left behind, Rin cracked. Dropped his bag. Pulled you into a hug so tight it hurt.

“You waited,” he whispered.

“I told you I would.”

And under that fading orange sky, he kissed you—gently, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear. His hands trembled. But you held him like always.

Now, years later, every time he scores a goal and lifts his eyes to the stands, he looks for you. The one who never left. His first friend. His last love.

Karasu Tabito

Karasu Tabito wasn’t exactly a “good kid” when you met him. You were both nine—him with a black eye, a split lip, and a crooked grin that said, “yeah, I got into a fight again.”

He got into trouble before he got into soccer—always the one with smart remarks, messy hair, bruised knuckles, and a grin that didn’t quite match the pain in his eyes. You were the quiet kid, the one who read too much and liked watching clouds. Total opposites. Yet somehow, you ended up being his anchor.

Maybe it started because you were the only one who didn’t treat him like a delinquent. Or maybe it was the day you shoved a bandage into his hand after yet another brawl, mumbling, “Stop bleeding all over the classroom, idiot.”

From then on, you were his person.

Every rooftop lunch. Every call after a terrible day. Every silent moment where he could just be without pretending to be cool or invincible.

Karasu was chaos—but around you, he calmed.

He got into soccer on a dare. Typical. But he was good, terrifyingly so. His reflexes were sharp, instincts sharper. He played like he lived—unpredictable and fast. He got serious about it in middle school, and you were the first person he told.

“I wanna go pro. Is that stupid?”

“No,” you’d said. “It’s the first thing I’ve ever seen you care about.”

By high school, Karasu was popular, loud, magnetic—but no one knew him like you did. They didn’t know how he called you every night when his parents fought. How he’d show up at your house drunk off energy drinks, just needing someone to talk him off the ledge. How he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking—like you were the only thing that kept him tethered.

And yeah, maybe you started to feel it too. That flutter. That ache when he leaned too close. The way your name sounded different in his mouth than anyone else’s.

But Karasu was scared. Love wasn’t something he trusted. So he flirted with others, acted like it was nothing—but never crossed that line with you.

Until one night—your last summer before Blue Lock, when he climbed up to your window at 1 AM, eyes wide, adrenaline crackling in the air.

“I got in,” he whispered. “Blue Lock chose me.”

You hugged him, heart racing. “I’m proud of you.”

And then—you pulled back, eyes locked, and suddenly, it wasn’t pride buzzing in the air—it was years of tension, laughter, comfort. And he kissed you. Not soft or sweet—desperate, like he’d wanted to for years but never dared.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered against your lips. “But if I figure it out—I want it to be with you.”

He left the next morning with a crooked smile and a promise.

Now, whenever he scores a goal, he still mouths your name. Still sends you blurry pictures and dumb jokes. Still calls you when he can’t sleep.

Because even when the world calls him unpredictable—you were always his constant.

Yukimiya Kenyu

Yukimiya Kenyu was beautiful. Not just in the model-boy, camera-ready way—but in how he moved, how he spoke, how he existed. You knew him before the world tried to sculpt him. Before the illness. Before the fame.

You were his next-door neighbor in Kyoto. From childhood, you saw the boy who pressed flowers in books, cried at sad manga endings, and whispered prayers at the shrine on his way to school. He was fragile, even then. Asthma. Weak lungs. A shadow that always loomed—but he never let it stop him.

He loved soccer even when it hurt. Even when it meant collapsing on the field.

You were always there—at the edge of the pitch, with your backpack full of inhalers and water bottles and unwavering belief.

As you both grew, so did your bond. He was gentler than the other boys. Sensitive, graceful. But behind that softness was steel. Yukimiya wanted it. Badly. To prove he wasn’t weak. To become more than his illness. More than the pretty boy.

“I don’t want people to look at me and only see fragile,” he told you once under a cherry tree in spring. “I want to be limitless.”

And you believed him. Every step of the way.

Then came the diagnosis. His vision—going. Not yet blind, but the edges were starting to blur. He told you in a whisper, like a secret shame.

You cried. He didn’t.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m still me. I’m still going to play. Even if it kills me.”

When Blue Lock summoned him, he hesitated. Not out of fear—but because he didn’t want to leave you behind.

So you kissed him.

Right there, by the train station. Years of buried feelings blooming like wisteria.

“I’ve loved you since we were thirteen,” you said. “Go. I’ll be here. I’m always here.”

And he went. With tears in his eyes, clutching your confession like armor.

In Blue Lock, he fought with elegance and fury. Not just for a goal—but to deserve you. To be strong enough for love.

Now, he still calls you when he has flare-ups. Sends you photos of sunsets he can barely see. Draws you in his notebook, even as his lines grow softer, blurrier.

When he makes the national team, he finds you in the crowd. He can’t see your face clearly anymore—but he feels you.

And in his arms, after the match, he says, “Even if the whole world fades… I’d know your heartbeat anywhere.”

[ultimate-marysue]

Honestly, without being like, an expert or anything I feel like AFTG is such a great portrayal of what trauma does to a motherfucker.

It doesn't sugar coat it, but it never demonizes coping mechanisms even when they are hurtful (to themselves or others). It's not sanitized, the way even objectively good characters use slurs like it would have been the standard in the 00's. Victims aren't perfect, survivors are not made to feel bad about their instincts and by the end psychological issues are not magically fixed by romance or winning.

Once you fully read through the books there's no character you can't understand where they come from. Even the villain! Yes, he's evil, but you can see where it went wrong. And it's not even saying "well, this guy is fucked up in the head due to his childhood, that's why he's evil", because plenty other characters share a similar or the same background and just... aren't like that?? Some of them are terrified, some are angry, some defensive, some depressed...all with negative consequences to themselves and others, but never crossing the line.

I just love that no one (except maybe Renee, Wymack and Betsy) is perfectly nice after their rough lives. Not the great captain Dan, not the chill Matt, not Nicky the people pleaser, not Aaron "the normal one", certainly not our main character. And those who are as perfectly nice as they get have gotten there through effort and with a lot of help from others.

I don't know, it's not perfect (especially when limited to Neil's pov and his biased view getting a bit in the way), but I love the love Nora put into the foxes. They're the uncomfortable victims no one wants to deal with. The ones that don't want pity but retribution, the ones that don't go down easy, the ones that don't fight back "enough", the ones who lash out, the ones made bitter and unpleasant by their trauma. They all deserve to live, they all deserve love, and they shouldn't have to meet whatever ridiculous standard society imposes to get it.

[fumifooms]

Kabushuro

Kabru can fix Shuro I think. It’s cute how surprisingly similar they are...

Okay so they're a "we have similar issues" type of duo and the key word is performance.

1) They both treat socializing as a battleground, as a scripted dance there are right and wrong ways to act in, Kabru uses words and social relations as his weapon, especially as someone who was always disempowered otherwise in his life, and Toshiro from his noble background was raised in a very strict stifling way where rules, hierarchy and the importance of social cues were drilled into him. To kabru, being liked was what got him and continues to get him shelter at the island (his landlord even cleans his room for him) and what got and continues to get people to listen to him. To Toshiro, a right conduct is what gets him approval and what upholds the honor of not only him but his entire family and household, it's not just pressure but also his way to feel loved- which never worked with his dad. Kabru's dad left his mother when Kabru was born and Toshiro's father would never take interest in his sons, nothing they could do was grand and impressive enough, preferring instead to travel and horse around despite being a man of great import and military achievements. Community & social success are very important to Kabru and duty and societal approval are very important to Toshiro. Toshiro wants to fit into the expectations placed upon him and Kabru wants to wield social approval to better turn around and change these expectations and that pressure, work towards a society with less need to conform where more people can come to and find a safe home. Toshiro almost dreads his future role, while power couldn't come to Kabru fast enough.

2) They both repress themselves. While Kabru is a malleable tool to even himself, Toshiro's identity and demeanor is rigid, it's just not his own- but something he thought he had to replicate. They both suppress their true selves and their feelings to be more pleasing to the people around them and society and leave very little time for self-care. Neither have people they can truly be themselves with, Kabru not wanting to be vulnerable with anyone even his childhood friend Rin who went through similar trauma, and Toshiro having to be the honorable heir with everyone he interacts with, even feeling like he was betrayed by his mother figure Maizuru he loved when it turned out she also bent her spine for his (in his opinion) good-for-nothing father- he's constantly shadowed by his bodyguards, constantly monitored!!

Like the thing that gives them stress and that gives them validation is sorta the same (achievements & family expectations, understanding and playing people to get to goals) and like……………. Idk

They’re like. Parrot vs parakeet… They share the same cage and Kabru parrot is singing and playing with the enrichment puzzle toys and doing little dances meanwhile Toshiro is huddled in the corner quiet in a ball. Birds are stressed smart animals lol this makes sense to me.

Sooo they're both repressed guys who approach social relationships with a facade and hold the community & world's wellbeing above their own. They do have a lot of differences as well though, like how Kabru is so much more active than passive and paves his own path, meanwhile Toshiro has a hard time leading and tries much more to stay confined in the rigid structure of his life- again being malleable and adaptable vs rigid to a fault. They're both STRESSED and they both hate OPENING UP!

We see Kabru get Toshiro out of his shell a bit :) Though pushing Toshiro to be more active is something we see a couple people do in general, like how Namari dragged him into the "Asivia is causing problems in the party" pre-canon Laios party conversation. But where does this even go from there I hear you ask.

Well thankfully for us, Kabru likes figuring out people and Toshiro does crave some connection, as seen with Falin. Toshiro meeting someone not from the East who is still familiar with eastern customs (okonomiyaki for example), not enough to criticize Toshiro for doing things wrong but enough that Toshiro can relax around him. Knowing his intents get across. It’d be relaxing for Toshiro for sure to be around someone who like, gets social cues almost effortlessly. Kabru would seem to always read him so well even when he can’t express how he’s feeling and, even though it’d also be a bit (lot) scary in a feeling naked and you can’t hide anything from him way, it’d be soothing to know that literally like, that he doesn’t have to put up a front yes (because it'd be useless, Kabru sees A L L)- but also that he doesn’t have to even really communicate verbally almost, which he finds somewhat hard to do. They do still communicate very easily together though! Toshiro is good at picking up on things so he's not oblivious to Kabru's scheming and shrewdness, which makes their relationship easier to both work and be healthy imo.

They gain a sense of complicity pretty quick in canon. Chapter 32 my beloved. I love how he implicitly answers Toshiro's "Is that all?" later with Namari. He borderline opens up more to Toshiro that he's known for a couple days at most than he has to his own party he's known for years.

They just hang out and they tune to each other’s moods and the worries of the rest of the world around them melts a bit... Eventually. When Toshiro starts to actively notice things about Kabru back is when shit gets real on his end like oh... Oh shit…….

Reciprocity is so so interesting to think about especially with Kabru, always. It’s easy when it’s kind of like a play and attending to the other's every need and want just the right way, but then they want you to be part of the equation, what they want is you and not just what you offer them and suddenly it’s…… Not safe, or easy.

Thinking again about my theory that Shuro’s nightmare is just a barely exaggerated day at his house… The dread and suffocation and exhaustion of having eyes and all the weight of honor and behavior constantly follow him wherever he goes, pick his every movement apart. Benichidori style... But like, and how kabru doesn’t need Toshiro to tell him about that nightmare in specific to pick up on his less than ideal childhood. And kabru was in kind of a similar situation of feeling trapped at home by his parent too. Bonding, slowly but surely...

Kabru pulling the same strings he did on Dia’s boyfriend until Shuro’s a tearful mess (still barely holding them back). I do think he’d be a harder challenge, he’s way more repressed, less social and open and in touch with himself, unlike Dia’s fiance who’s all fiery I bet and seemdd to know what was the real issue bothering him… I think it’d be like enrichment for Kabru. Someone to get to know and it’s a lot of back and forth and mutual effort- Kabru’s very used to just, either pushing or receiving a ton in relationships, having people load their feelings and expectations onto him, reserved Toshiro would be refreshing I think. Someone who's not particularly interested in Kabru, and someone who wants to be focused on and looked at just as little as he does. It’s not like Laios where he has important motives to crack his mystery, the stakes are low he can just chill and enjoy trying to figure him out for the sake of genuine curiosity and a lil something in the air whenever they interact. They’re intriguing.

King of staying in his lane looking like a kicked puppy in his noble suit vs king of putting his nose in everyone’s business everywhere for the greater good getting to just have this thing that’s unprofessional and has no reason to be yet feels nice.

They should have regular meetups at the ramen joint, okonomiyaki trio ftw. A mutual letting down of walls in their offwork hours <3 It helps that he's already seen Toshiro at his worst I think. Kabru could even just hit him up sitting with him with a drink for a bit at the ending feast or something and they form a lil friendship :>

In a kabushuro timeline that adheres to post-canon would Toshiro live in Merini or would they be long-distance… Courting through letters and diplomatic travels as ambassadors…… Timeline where Kabru doesn’t become advisor and instead lives as Toshiro’s husband & like second head of the family is interesting… Although Kabru cares about using his politician status for change & greater good. I also do love Toshiro giving up on the heirdom too lowkey. See though the thing is that toshiro is ALSO about greater good, what he & traditions say is anyways, and it's stated that when he becomes the new head of the family things improve in the household- he's a better, more conscientious leader. Advisor x family leader kabushuro where Toshiro pushes for good Wa-Melini relations and an alliance... Every which way is neat

I need a fic where they just self-care and have a slow day hanging out together is the thing. They need a day at the spa (Toshiro needs a day playing in the mud actually but idk they can go to camping spa). Shuro takes a mud bath and realizes he’s entertaining himself by letting the mud drip from his fingers into a little pile on the rim. Even for small habits and stim he'd be super repressed I feel but finding subtle ways to stim king... Would kabru be good at massages? He 1000% knows how to massage out a knot in shoulders, it's a good way to get into people’s good graces... Kabru "I could help you to relax :)" especially if early on and he wants info/to have Toshiro as an ally. Shuro just melts into a puddle because he *really needed* a massage from someone (outside of the family). Didn’t feel like he’d have to continue performing. He knows human anatomy real well and stuff I bet if he tried he could even do acupuncture… Toshiro prob needs to get half-naked which makes him all 😖 but he gets over it and gets comfier the longer it goes on. Kabru’s satisfied/proud when he notices Toshiro’s discomfort get worn down over the minutes until he’s fully relaxed. Thank you @/saccharineomens for the brainstorm <3 God you just know they’d be in a situation where they’re sitting next to each other, having a real heart to heart, and kabru gently puts a comforting hand on Shuro’s leg while nodding sympathetically at him, and Shuro gets a little flustered at what appears to him to be a rather forward move lol.

Kabushuro eventually having the meanest gossip like just absolutely unleashing their pettiness together, I’d love to see it. They've got it in them I know it

The planning plotters...

[raayllum]

King of What? :: a S7 Ezran Meta

Introduction

Because S7 in particular gave me even more Ezran feelings than usual, and I thought "What's more fun than methodically breaking them down and sorting them into categories?" so here we are. We'll be looking at a lot (but not all) of Ezran's s7 arc as well as some holdovers from previous seasons. There are also some motifs to keep in mind, such as the:

Phoenix motif

Need motif (+ him and Callum later)

Reflection Motif

that we will dive into more later once they're more relevant / we can put the pieces in place. For now, a little background meta key up because S7 breaks Ezran down and then systematically builds him back up while also, in some ways, doing a complete overhaul.

So let's talk about it?

Pillars of Identity: Who is Ezran?

TDP is a series obsessed with a lot of things, but if I'd have to wager what the second core idea of the series is beyond the Cycle of Violence, I'd probably put in on a theme of Identity, specifically questions such as, "how do I, as a person, exist within the Cycle (breaking it, perpetuating it, both)?" and "who has, or is, my grief turning me into?" as they are deeply interrelated. To answer those questions, that requires establishing who a character is in 'normal life,' or outside of grief and the cycle (ie. trauma) and who they are within it.

With that in mind, I think Ezran has about five approximate pillars for his identity, in roughly this order:

Harrow's son

The king

Callum's brother

Zym's friend

Rayla's friend

I don't think that other characters pillars would be that different (Rayla's primary would also likely be her three duty bound parents) as it does make sense; most children's primary influence in life, especially as they grow, start with their parents as role models even if they may eventually separate and take an opposite road (love you Soren). Where Ezran differs, I think, is that while I don't know if Rayla would consciously conceptualize herself as her parents' daughter as her primary pillar, I do think that Ezran — especially Ezran in arc 2 — is always orienting himself around "I am Harrow's son" (for better or for worse in terms of what that means).

This is also why I put Ezran's identity as king as his second pillar. In his childhood / pre-s3, I think his second pillar would've been his identity as Callum's (little) brother. However, we see him place returning to his kingdom above helping Callum (brother) and Rayla (friend) returning Zym (another friend) to Xadia. The loss of his father strips away the relative safety of body and mind that being a prince comparatively gave him, fundamentally altering his internalized and externalized sense(s) of responsibility and his choices accordingly. It's the loss of his father and the subsequent grief, yes, which Callum also experiences, but uniquely the mantle of the throne as well, which is what he highlights in 7x02:

This all started the day that assassin came to Katolis and killed him. Our king. Our father. I never asked for this. I wasn't ready to be a king. I'm just a kid. That day changed me forever.

So let's talk about being the king. Let's talk about

The Crown

Ezran's crown is one of the few objects in the series to have an episode titled after it (3x02) and the only one I can remember that continues to be a symbol we consistently come back to throughout (i.e. unlike 1x07's "The Dagger and the Wolf"). Despite returning to Katolis to be king and sitting on the throne itself throughout the episode, Ezran struggles with the crown. It is, to him, in some manner different than the throne, despite ostensibly representing the same thing. He has, effectively, already made the choice to be king, yet persists in his doubt and hesitation as he struggles to learn the balance.

Opeli, however, contributes to that distinction, noting specifically that "the crown is a heavy burden to bear" and that "no one blames you for being a child". Ezran's choice to fully commit to, and his acquiring of the kingship fully, is made synonymous with him putting on his father's crown for the first time. In a lot of ways, Ezran returning home to Katolis was him realizing he can't run away from growing up (2x09) in his own words, and therefore that putting on the crown is him committing to becoming someone new: this is Grown Up Ezran, or Growing Up Ezran, actively. He is, from this day on by choice, no longer just a child, but also — more so — a king.

AARAVOS: The whining child king, in over his head, and he knows it. (4x04) DOMINA: Who is this child? ZUBEIA: He is a king! (5x01) KARIM: I've never negotiated with a child before. CORVUS: He is a king. (6x07)

This also folds into how Ezran conceptualizes his father. Again, as children often do, he looks to his father for guidance with the things that Ezran is struggling to handle per his sense of responsiblity (teaching Zym how to fly in season 2): "I just wish Dad was here. He'd know what to do, you know?"

When Ezran returns home in season three, he does so with the direct consequence of his father's actions on his shoulders and wrapped around his brow, and with his letter in hand, and these changes likewise reflect a more nuanced understanding of his father:

All of you knew King Harrow as a great king. He was a warrior, a leader, and a champion. But I knew him as my Dad, who loved me and my brother and our mom, and sometimes told really bad jokes. [...] I didn't see everything he had to do as king, but I do know my father had to make some very hard decisions... I haven't been through the things that made my father the king he was. So I've decided that I don't have to be the king my father was. My father made choices to keep fighting battles that started hundreds of years before he was born. To punish children for crimes their parents committed. I don't want to be that kind of king.

This is, of course, a speech made in the context of actively rejecting war and of pardoning those who would otherwise be punished, both things that Harrow did engage in directly and deeply regretted in the letter Ezran currently holds. Ezran then walks the balance of simultaneously rejecting who his father was, and honouring who his father was and who he wanted to be. This is perhaps best exemplified in season 3 of Ezran, two episodes after rejecting his father's 'way', having a mirrored path across the courtyard set to "Last Sunset" in one of their most overt parallels, prepared to give up his life and freedom in hopes others will make better choices with the (hopefully) renewed agency they now have.

By the time we get to season 4, Ezran has changed greatly. He's more confident as king, the team's resident diplomat and negotiator, and a lot more active in general, though not without plenty of room to grow. 4x03 offers a cold dose of reality that the road to the future he wants is going to be harder to walk, but still confident that we can get there because, "We all want peace, and we all want love."

He also has a more complicated yet positive view of his father as king and of the world at large. He best expresses this, perhaps, the first time he removes his crown (which is a permanent part of his identity, and of his character design):

I am King Ezran of Katolis. As my gift [of sacrifice], I offer you my crown. It has no jewels and it isn't made of precious metal. It's made from the steel of my father's sword. My father was a strong king, and I wanted to carry that strength with me. But he also taught me that strength isn't always about weapons and war. This crown reminds me of that lesson.

Rather than just seeing Harrow as something to not be, Ezran has come around to wanting to carry his father closely with him. He's learned that "peace demands just as much strength as war" and also decided to embody Harrow's closing thoughts as a king: "I now believe that true strength is found in vulnerability, in forgiveness, in love." A dual strength for a dual king, symbolized by Ezran taking his father's sword and reshaping it into something new.

Ezran is a King of Love as Strength. He is king because he's literally Harrow's son and heir, but also emotionally — narratively — Harrow's son in terms of breaking the cycle and choosing love (similarly how Janai in S7 becomes known as a queen of mercy just like her previous royal role model, Aditi). Harrow's son by fact, and Harrow's son by choice in some ways:

EZRAN: History doesn't have to be a narrative of strength. Not if we don't want it to be. It can be a narrative of love. KARIM: These are childish dreams. EZRAN: Not dreams, choices. I am a king. And as a king, I choose love over strength.

So Ezran being king, to him, is synonymous with choosing love as strength. With making choices. With being Harrow's son (positive). He forgives Zubeia and Avizandum because of Zym. He forgives Rayla because "I'm sure she doesn't mean to make [Callum] feel that way". He provides an anchor, a pillar, for other people to build their identity around ("Don't you remember who you are?") as a reminder and a lever (hi Soren). He can honour and strive to be better than his father simultaneously. He can hold pain and love in his heart at the same time.

Until he can't.

King of what? King of ashes? [Of nothing?]

In seasons 4 and 5, we see Ezran remove his crown. Both are about sacrifices: he is prepared to offer his crown to Rex Igneous and to Finnegrin in order to help with their mission, asserting its sentimental value and importance to him: "You must bring Rex Igneous a worthy gift." / "It's not worthless. It's really important to me."

In season 7, he removes it just once. This is in admission to Callum that he "never asked for this". He was given the option of being king or not being king, but neither would've necessarily made him happy, and he made the best choice with the options he had... Options that he never asked for in the first place. The crown being a reminder to choose strength over love? He never asked to have to learn that lesson, either. It was a burden placed on him in making the best out of a bad situation, which is — unfortunately — an unavoidable part of life. But it can still be, or feel, unfair to him.

I think we see this aspect of Ezran struggling with what he wanted vs what was forced upon him in how he (and others) in 7x02 treat his high ranking position. We've seen first hand in 5x01 that Callum would overrule something like Rayla — and Runaan by extension — being arrested, but Ezran has the final say here as king. However, he does not directly highlight his own ranking. Merely, he reminds his brother of Callum's position:

Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting.

And Rayla ("you're not my king, but you are my friend") reminds Ezran of his, because it is Ezran's status as king — the power, the trauma — that is driving them apart:

So, King Ezran. How determined are you to stop me?

Being king gives Ezran control over the people around him — Opeli, Soren, Corvus, Aanya, Callum — and over what happens. It gives him control. A sense of safety. And while these are understandable desires, they swing the wrong way in his anger.

So let's talk about who they swing towards!

Targets (Sol Regem, Runaan, Callum)

Ezran's anger has three direct targets in season 7, and as such, it's easy to see the way each stacks on top of the other.

The initial one is Sol Regem ("We need to find Sol Regem and destroy him"). This leads to finding an already dead dragon, which means in addition to having no one to blame, it means Ezran has no way to know or understand why Sol Regem attacked Katolis (beyond a hatred of humans). The destruction of the castle feels like losing his family all over again, in some ways, in addition to his childhood home.

Then lo and behold, the man responsible for killing his father walks right into it.

You! This is all your fault! Everything changed the day you came. You killed my father!

I think this line shows a few things. As king, Ezran was supposed to protect and be there for Katolis (2x09) while also working to break the cycle. That's what, by Ezran's measure, a good king would do. He's utterly failed at the former, and if he's a bad king, then he shouldn't be king. So whose fault is it that Ezran, a bad king, is on the throne? Logistically and emotionally, it's Runaan. It's not quite rational but it is reasonable for Ezran to look at every event in his life from the past two years spiralling out from his father's death, and culminating in Katolis' destruction.

However, despite Runaan becoming the next target of Ezran's anger, he's not actually the most consistent target of it throughout the season: Callum is.

After 7x02, Ezran doesn't breathe a single word of ire about Runaan for the rest of the series, even if he's still clearly angry months later in the 7x09 'epilogue'. Instead in 7x03, he's fixated on finding and dragging his brother back as punishment ("we can't let him get away with it!") for betrayal, which Ezran also takes personally and extends beyond himself: "Callum betrayed me. He betrayed all of Katolis."

The idea that a king represents his kingdom is an old one in terms of history, and considering that Runaan killed the king of Katolis, and Callum helped him escape, it's not that much of a reach. However, Ezran isn't even thinking that logically. If Ez was proposing hunting down the kingslayer and bringing him back to face justice, that'd be one thing. However, he only talks about holding Callum accountable, not even Rayla (who also betrayed him) or Runaan (the escaped prisoner).

His targets, quite literally, switched from Aanya having her arrow notched at Runaan and then to his brother, and Ezran's anger has subsequently followed.

Now, some of this is undoubtedly because of the three, Ezran is the closest to Callum. They had a childhood together and Callum was customarily always in his corner, if sometimes a bit scatterbrained/unreliable or angry. He, accordingly, expected Callum to be on his side, and barring that (stopping him from going after Rayla in the meeting) was prepared to enforce it. A lot of our emotional upset tends to come from "I expected you to understand/support me, and you don't" after all.

However, I think Ezran's emotional interplay is a bit more complicated. I think in 7x01, Ezran attaches to Callum as an extension of himself even as he self-isolates, such as sending Callum to go with Corvus "because we have to do something" in investigating Sol Regem, and for no real in-universe reason besides "Corvus offered to go, but I need to feel in control so I'm going to tell/order someone to go with him".

The other, bigger part of this is that Callum is the biggest hole in Ezran's reasoning.

EZRAN: He killed our father. Isn't that enough?

We know that part of Ezran's grief is that it forced him to be king and grow up quickly, something that Callum is adjacent to but can't relate to in the same way by virtue of not having the crown. But since the reasoning Ezran highlights is that 1) Runaan is a murderer (unlike the bulk of the people at his council table—oh wait) and 2) it's okay/right to punish him for killing their father... having his brother, who is also King Harrow's son (cue the identity pillar) disagree is a pretty big blow to it. They both loved their dad; he was their father, and they were both his sons. Callum is in the closest position imaginable to Ezran as anyone could be, emotionally, yet they have two completely different perspectives. It gives Ezran's reasoning much less ground to stand on, and he can't handle it. The fact that Callum's perspective (which was already a betrayal in its own way) then becomes action (which is what Ezran labels the betrayal), I think, is just the cherry on top.

Another thing that's worth noting, I think, is that neither Ezran or Callum are necessarily the ones who escalate things in 7x02; Aanya and Rayla are. Soren, Corvus, and the other guards are working under Ezran as his crownguard, but Aanya and Rayla are the rogue parties. Aanya isn't operating under Ezran's jurisdiction, but as his friend and ally. What this does mean, though, is that literally everyone at the Banther Lodge is on Ezran's side against Rayla and her weakened, injured father... except Callum, but as a mage, he's enough to tip the scales to take down the crownguard... and then use himself as a human shield.

One of the things about Ezran's anger and its targets in season 7 is that it does a very good job at illustrating exactly why the Cycle is so destructive to participate in, because yes, you may aim your anger at the people who 'deserve' it and are directly responsible—the acceptable, understandable Targets if you will—but you catch others in the crossfire. There is always collateral damage of people who didn't do a thing to you, whether that's the people who love them, or the people who are like them. (Insert Zubeia wanting to take revenge for the loss of her mate and child, claiming the lives of the assassins sent to take it, and then Lyrennus' pain at the loss of his child + Ethari's at the loss of his partner.) There is no clean way to kill your enemy in a manner that does no harm to anyone else (who is innocent).

Ezran's targets by proxy of wanting to deal with Sol Regem's destruction of Katolis are the dragons and Zym (more on them in a second, though, cause that deserves its own section). His targets by proxy of wanting to punish Runaan is causing deep pain to Rayla, even before she's taken any action against him, and then on a more literal sense his own brother. His targets by proxy of wanting to drag Callum back by force likely would've been Runaan, Rayla, potentially Ethari, or even Corvus or other crownguard in the fight.

Callum shielding Runaan (and Rayla by extension) force Ezran to confront this fact, at least a little. Does he value punishing Runaan (and Rayla, a girl who's saved him countless times, who was willing to lose a hand for him, who has otherwise always taken his side)—perpetuating the cycle—over his brother's life. And Ezran is angry enough that he good and truly considers it (although we could say perhaps he was waiting to see if Callum would move out of the way). But where Ezran was willing to hurt Rayla emotionally if it meant physically punishing Runaan, he is not willing to risk killing Callum to keep the assassin as a prisoner.

This is also, I think, the turning point for Aanya. She is Ezran's friend and was willing to follow his lead, and upon seeing the choice that Ezran made—sparing Callum over killing him and Runaan—she shifts gears. She and everyone else (who are deeply uncomfortable with Ezran's increasing rage, but unwilling to speak out against it) recognize that pursuing and punishing Callum will not actually making Ezran feel better. So she tries a different tactic.

EZRAN: We can't let him get away with it. Corvus, I need you to track them. CORVUS: [Gently corrects him] King Ezran, we already know where they're going. The Silvergrove. EZRAN: Right. And that's why I need you to track them. (7x03)

I also think Ezran taking 'being king' as such a core identity piece—Callum was Harrow's son too, but not in the way Ezran wanted/needed—lets Aanya reach him. She's also a child monarch, and reminding Ezran of this and that he and Callum can heal ("But I'll always be your brother" / "You're brothers") is something that Ezran deeply needed to hear from someone else, too.

AANYA: I know it hurts right now, Ezran. But you need to know that you and Callum are not broken. The both of you will heal one day. You're brothers. It's okay to be angry, and it's okay to be sad. But I think you should let this go, for now. You're the king of Katolis, and your people need you. EZRAN: You're right. I need to protect them.

EZRAN: But Katolis needs me. (4x03)

However, that doesn't mean Aanya's advice, nor how Ezran pursues that protection is faultless, so next, let's talk about

Dragons as Friends and Foes

Ezran has always been the dragon boy.

Back in 2021, I wrote a more long winded post that basically boiled down to—in a show where elf, human, and dragon relations are key—it was likely that Callum was always designed to be the human who engaged the most with the culturally elven side of things (primal magic, Rayla being his lancer), and Ezran (with his ability to talk to animals) was designed to handle the dragon-human side of things. Think how we see Callum's first meeting with Rayla, an elf, while Ezran is the one who discovers Zym as a dragon egg.

Although other characters (namely Rayllum in S3, and Soren in seasons 4-6) bond with dragons as well, this remained true throughout arc 2, wherein Ezran is the closest to Zym and Zubeia, the primary negotiator with the various archdragons, going on his 'big dragon missions' (5x01-5x03), etc.

Season seven, therefore, presents an interesting departure in Ezran's view of dragons. Previously, while they should've been enemies, he always saw them as friends and allies: being the first to run to and aid Pyrrah in 2x07, trying to commune with Zubeia to wake her up in 3x08, defending Avizandum in 4x08 on behalf of Zym, etc.

Sol Regem's attack changes all of that. As Ezran states:

But doesn't a home need to be safe? [...] Our ancestors spent generations building Katolis. I don't want to waste our time if it's all going to get knocked down. [...] We have to be ready. We have to be strong enough so that they won't even think about attacking us. Before we rebuild, we have to build our defenses.

In season 4 and 5, all Ezran wanted to do was work with the dragons. To work together with Zubeia to stop Aaravos; to call upon the dragons to help stop Claudia and Viren. Now, the dragons are a 'them'. Now there's an 'us'.

This isn't necessarily a 'wrong' way to think about it, though. An archdragon did attack and devastate Katolis, seemingly — to Ezran — for no apparent reason. To want to prevent that from happening is reasonable. Yes, Ezran is friends with dragons, but most friends aren't also born with the inherent capacity to utterly destroy your life as a built in feature.

At the same time, this new 'us vs them' mindset is challenged a few times in season 7. Although Ezran's assurances to Zym that "we're only building such powerful weapons so that we never have to use them" will not work out without consequences in arc 3, I'm sure, thus far we only see Ezran use them on another enemy he's willing to be increasingly violent with: Aaravos.

In 7x07, the Startouch elf offers up a double serving of manipulation — the bigger one being to join him and that he's humanity's ally, which Ezran steadfastly rejects, and the smaller one beneath regarding the Nova Blade (+ Callum), which Ezran 100% plays into. Both of these push Ezran further as a character.

The first avenue that Ezran rejects leads him to claim that:

I have allies already. The elves and dragons, fellow victims of your evil.

Even if the only elf he's currently working with is a recent addition is Terry, forcing Rayla and Runaan to go on the run in 7x02, and his draconic ally in Zym is deeply worried about Ezran and Aanya's project. But it shows that despite his coldness towards previous allies, Ezran still holds unity close and refuses to relinquish it entirely as an ideal.

Secondly, we have Ezran's choice to use the Nova Blade. This is both a departure and in line with his thoughts in 5x06:

CALLUM: We borrow this Nova Blade, wait for Aaravos to get out, and then just stab-stab, buh-bye bad guy. EZRAN: Wait, slow down. Shouldn't that be the last resort? If we can stop Aaravos from getting out at all, we can solve this without any violence.

On the one hand, Ezran in 7x08/09 is just following through with what he said here. If Aaravos was still trapped, they didn't need to resort to violence. Now that he's out, violence is accordingly on the table, just as Ezran said it would be. However, I think it still feels like a departure in some ways because of Ezran's repeated emphasis on strength and love over violence, and his choice (4x08, 5x06) to melt his father's sword down into a crown... only to now acquire a sword that isn't made for defense whatsoever, but for the express purpose of killing.

That said, more on the Nova Blade in a second.

For now, I want to return to the archdragons, and just do a little season track:

7x01: Ezran finds out an archdragon / former king of the dragons destroyed Katolis. Furious, he wants to destroy Sol Regem in turn, but cannot as the great dragon is already dead.

7x02: Ezran takes out his anger on Runaan, Zubeia's servant assassin.

7x03-7x05: Ezran goes with Aanya to learn how to build weapons that can stand a chance against dragons / archdragons, in spite of Zym's misgivings.

7x07: Despite Callum giving Ezran the mission to go retrieve Zubeia, Ez delegates it to his crownguard + Terry, choosing to remain in Katolis and converse with Aaravos instead to "keep [Aaravos] busy".

7x09: Ezran (and co.) are spared from sacrificing their lives and "everything we are" because of the archdragons, who all sacrifice themselves to stop Aaravos. Ezran holds Zym while his parents / Zubeia die, and then instructs a memorial to be created in the Valley of the Graves.

So, after a season of being angry at an archdragon, at seeing dragons as potential enemies... Ezran and everyone / everything he loves is saved by those very same creatures. Instead of destroyers who force him to sacrifice, they are saviours who choose to sacrifice on his behalf. This doesn't remove responsiblity from Ezran's shoulders per se—in many ways, a world without archdragons adds to it, as he states, "It's up to us now, Zym" (in a nice callback to 1x03)—but I do think it greatly contributes to his perspective in his closing scene this season.

One of the ways it does so is bringing back the gift motif from 4x08, not only in "worthy gifts of sacrifice" but in Ezran's realization that:

We offered gifts that meant a lot to us. But the truth is, they don't mean anything to you.

being directly contrasted in 7x09, with:

AARAVOS: And what will your sacrifices buy? A mere moment of peace before I return to a world without you? Without archdragons. Your deaths mean nothing.

EZRAN: They have given us a great gift. A chance to keep on living. Keep trying to be better.

The first time Ezran spoke of the dragons in 4x01, it was with excitement for Zubeia and Zym's visit to Katolis. He believed "it would change how people see dragons". He offered gifts of friendship and peace in the Valley of the Graves, only for the portrait to be defaced. By the end of season 7, Ezran's desire for people to see the dragons differently has come true, and his honouring of Zubeia is allowed to stand in a way that's far more permanent than a painting.

OPELI: It's the gift ceremony. I'm concerned that holding in the Valley of the Graves is insensitive. EZRAN: Wait, what? It's a sacred beautiful place. It's a place of peace. OPELI: Some people have come to me in confidence. They worry that honouring a dragon in a place that is a memorial to so many great humans, some of whom died at their hands, is offensive. (4x03)

EZRAN: Aaravos pushed us to to the brink. We were ready to sacrifice it all. Everything. You and me, Callum, Rayla... We almost gave up everything we are. But because of them, the archdragons, we didn't have to.

Now, I don't think this change at the end of the season will be enough necessarily for Ezran to halt Project Ruby Fire. I don't think it undoes the hard choices he's made or the things he's learned about himself. But I do think it asserts what he's aspiring towards, and helps direct himself to who he wants to be and how he's going to proceed going forward (Evrkynd, Runaan).

Speaking of which, let's finally talk about Runaan. Again.

A Phoenix

I've alluded to this this a bit before, but I think one of the main reasons Ezran chose to forgive Runaan was because of the archdragons' sacrifice. The dragons gave him a chance to keep living, to keep trying to be better—and Ezran then turns and gives that "great gift" in turn to Runaan. I don't know if I think that Ezran would've otherwise had Runaan executed, but forgiveness even more than just being spared is a much more active choice in a lot of ways, and not something that Ezran had to conflate, but chose to.

The other reason I think Ezran chose to forgive Runaan is because, as of the end of S7, he's been Runaan.

As an assassin, I had convinced myself that I was a kind of peacemaker. A twisted peacemaker, I suppose. I believed that my act of precision violence was preferable... necessary, even, to prevent far greater bloodshed.

[...] I was trained to accept that I was already dead, so that I might carry out my dark work without fear. But I am not dead. I am alive. I have a family I love. I have so much to lose, the very things I took from you.

"They have given us a great gift. A chance to keep on living."

Ezran now understands how someone can believe that to keep back chaos and death, you have to kill another person. To believe in your bones that someone has to die, even if that means your own destruction. That doesn't mean Runaan was right about Harrow, or that Ezran is necessarily wrong about Aaravos, but the journey to get there, the mindset, of how undeterred you are when you reach that place... Ezran's been there. He knows, now, in ways he didn't before.

He forgave Zubeia because everything was complicated: because he could relate to longing for his mother (Zym), to watching his father grieve his wife the same way Zubeia was grieving Avizandum, to wanting to protect his kingdom (Avizandum). To grieving family. Of a child who had lost things.

He forgives Runaan because he can understand being an assassin, and already dead, and realizing you almost lost / have forsaken your family along the way. Of violence testing you, and failing, and having to try again. To reforge yourself into something new—because the true heart you had before is gone, but that doesn't mean your heart is.

Ezran stands in front of the fireplace twice in season 7. The first is with Zym in 7x02 and where he has his initial disagreement with Callum. The second time is with Runaan in 7x09, a fire in his eyes. This evokes not only Ezran's fury and association with the dragons, but also the framing of Aaravos from earlier in the season.

Ezran once asked if he was now the king of ashes. 7x09 demands him to answer if he wants to keep being a King of Ashes. If he wants to continue feeding his anger and hate, if he wants to continue fuelling the fire of hatred and grief within him. And Ezran says no. He says yes to forgiveness, though this time, he does not know the way:

EZRAN: But it's not that simple or easy. [...] Somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. (4x03) CALLUM: But somehow, you got past that. You forgave her, because everything was complicated. (7x02) EZRAN: I'm going to forgive you. I don't know how, but I have to try. (7x09)

He is presented with a phoenix (Runaan, back from the grave) and chooses to become one himself, and welcome back in all the other pillars of identity that had been crumbling over the past season.

EZRAN: I think about the people I love who are counting on me to do the right thing. Not the strong thing, not the harsh thing. The right thing. Do you love your sister, Prince Karim? (6x07)

It's sort of fitting, then, that in choosing once again to be Harrow's son (positive), he's presented with a more literal bird phoenix in "Harrow's soul in is in Pip" then, too.

And the same rebirth goes for the world around him, too.

ASTRID: Everything burns when a star dies. (7x09)

OPELI: King Ezran... perhaps it is finally time to rebuild. EZRAN: No. It's time to build something new. [...] Our world faced its end. But we survived. And on the other side, we find ourselves at a new beginning. [...] There is no such thing as utopia. But with hard work and discipline, persistence and patience, we can build a better place.

The Crown, Again (reforge into something new)

So I've talked about the reflection motif, and I've talked now about the phoenix motif. There's still more I could touch on in regards to Ezran's whole thing with Aaravos and the Orphan Queen, the layers of Aaravos' manipulation, the theme of following in your predecessors' footsteps and the good and harm that can come of it, but that's probably a meta for another day. For now, I want to return to the Need motif we touched on earlier.

TDP is very interested in questioning what characters deem necessary. Thus far, this was mostly done through Aaravos ("Aaravos did what was necessary" / "we will do what must be done"), Claudia ("I did what I had to do" / "Maybe he's just doing what needs to be done" / Whatever it takes, however dangerous, however vile"), and Viren ("I tried to explain that I had only done what was necessary"). S7 starts to shift gears and push further at the main trio, questioning and picking apart some of their mindsets (which again, could be a meta on its own) in regards to what sort of violence they believe is necessary and why, only for none of it to actually have been so because of the Archdragons. A nice little meta-narrative reflection.

What I want to actually focus on here is Ezran's idea of need. This is usually couched within his place of being king, and loyalty to his kingdom, as we've seen previously ("But Katolis needs me" / "You are the king of Katolis, and your people need you").

EZRAN: I wish [Zym] could come with me too, but you need to go be with your mom. That's your home. Both of us need to go home. (2x09)

So Ezran believes that needs to be king because Katolis needs him. Great. What does Ezran need?

Season 7 gives various answers, according to himself:

"Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting" (7x02)

"We can't let [Callum] get away with it. Corvus, I need you to track them" (7x03)

"I need to protect [my people]" (7x03)

"Destiny works in mysterious ways. The Novablade came to my ancestor, only to be lost for generations until we needed it" (7x09).

The other people in his life have other ideas, as discussed.

ZUBEIA: But Zym, you must go. Your brother Ezran needs you. (6x02)

AANYA: But you need to know that you and Callum are not broken. The both of you will heal one day. You're brothers.

CALLUM: Mom said it was okay to be angry, but I couldn't let the bad feelings stick. Because we were going to need each other. Because we're brothers. I still need you, Ezran.

Broken things can be mended. Crowns and swords can be reforged. People can be, too. As much as Ezran loves his council and his crownguard, he needs people who don't just see him as king. Callum is not his High Mage, but will always be his brother, and that's what's most important. He needs Callum and Rayla and Zym; he needs Aanya who can help keep him grounded. He needs his family because they help keep him who he is as much as he has for them in the past ("Don't you remember who you are?" in 4x07) now that it is up to them to maintain it, and the archdragons are gone.

And to be himself, Ezran needs to be:

Harrow's son with accordance to a Narrative of Love

The King of Katolis

Callum, Zym, and Rayla's brother

rising from the ashes and bringing others up with him, over and over again the way he always has. The way he always will.

Because not all cycles are bad, either.

Conclusion

As stated, there's more to Ezran's arc in S7: ideas of history and half-truths, of chains and Startouch elves, of home and memorials. Of what we carry against our will, what we choose to set down, and vice versa. What this meta was, then, was the first at likely two passes, focusing on Ezran's emotional state(s) throughout the season and his emotional processing. More structural and thematic based analyses of his character in S7 / across the show thus far will definitely folllow.

For now, though, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed a bit of a deeper dive!

All hail the king.

[timkontheunsure]

A CBT look at Blitz's core beliefs

Boring explanationy bit

Ok first off a core belief is this how the world works sort of thought. It has a ton of evidence on it side, or some big life altering event. Acting within is designed to kept you safe. And everyone has good and bad ones.

Think of it as of a short bit of base code running in the background, helping you go with your gut. A quick a short cut, but one that's got a lot of logic and past facts behind it.

They're mostly set up in childhood. So if you have an abusive parent, or trauma, you can get ones that become unhelpful for you in other situations. Like with people that really care about you.

A distortion is a little different. They affect how you look at the wold based off your mood, and are always negative. They specifically don't have a lot of evidence on their side. Like a prism that makes things a little different than what's really there.

They are an action to do based on your mood: catastrophizing (when everybody I love leaves me next year)

Black & white thinking (yes there's all this evidence showing Stolas cares, but that doesn't count as it just sex).

Thought spiraling (this one goes to Moxxie heh)

Or snap judgments based only only how your mood is (Ghostfuckers is fun and sexy, so we should take the case when I know they don't exist).

Blitz's core beliefs

So 'all royals are assholes' and 'no royal will care about an imp' are a core beliefs. Because this is definitely true, the 1% don't give a fig. (Stolas and Ozzie are basically round errors from what we've seen).

"I'm going to die alone" is also one.

So is "I make everyone's lives worse"

But his good ones are: "we don't get rid of family",

Ok with these two good ones we're going to have to go into rules for life. Blitz core belief is about family sticks together and protects each other. That's his code that always wants to run.

But he's also got evidence that family will kick you out for not being good enough, and hurting/killing people on accident. When you get code clashing you get cognitive dissidence, which physically hurts.

So you do a patch to reduce that pain. A rule to live by. 'If X is right and Y is right, then the variable that off is me.'

'We don't get rid of family, but we do get rid of me = I'm the only one who we can get rid of'.

With Loona it's we get orphanage lady saying words that could have come straight out of Cash's mouth. (I want Blitz to get a song telling that git off so hard).

Those hit Blitz hard, so hard he changed his mind on adopting a small little child, to a older teenage. CBT says that when something hits that hard it's because it hit at least 1 core belief. He sees himself in Loona in that moment, and never want another kid to be gotten rid of.

And other one could be bad or good depending on what's around it. 'I will be of use to family/people I love'. Blitz needs to feel useful to the people he loves, especially with growing in a family business working from being a kid.

And the rule Blitz has made for himself between the "I'm going to die alone" + 'I will be of use to family' = 'But maybe if I'm useful they won't abandoned of me yet'

(Also how sad it is that Blitz feels he's only allowed help, and support if it's a tit for tat, favours for favours exchange).

So everyone has a mixed bag of these good and bad. The problem happened when trauma responses give you ones that don't help you in a new situation. Like say a demon prince falling head over heels for him.

The idea of CBT is that if your struggling to look at what's changed since the core beliefs were set up. And if it isn't keeping you safe anymore, then you try to replace the old one with a new one; that has new evidence that backs it up. A update.

Like how Millie shows Blitz concrete examples of him improving her life. Just telling him he hasn't wrecked her life wouldn't work.

(This is one of reasons why Stolas' confection doesn't stick with Blitz. Blitz needs to know reasons why someone like Stolas loves him. It why he asks him in apology tour. Stolas tell your boy why he's so amazing for flips' sake).

Millie shows how joining IMP positively improved her live. "He gave me so much...A career, a husband, a future. And now...He's my best friend."

And Blitz helping Millie through alot of her own negative self talk she had. That 'she's not good enough', 'she's only the muscle', 'that Pride's too fancy for imps', and 'no imp works for them selves'.

These we're all Millie's core beliefs before joining IMP, if she still had these Rolando's words would have hurt her. But through having the support and example of Blitz she's removed those old bits of code.

When see her mum it obvious where and why she has these ideas about herself. Lynn describes her full time job, being employed direct by a company; as "Freelance". Because Imps can't work for themselves. (Even if she is impressed by Blitz). It's like different between working for Uber, instead of taxi firm. No protections, and an unsafe unstable job.

She pulls up her daughter's valid explanation why she lost the fight as "Excuses!", because Millie was "'raised better than that' as the muscle of the team.

She's very against Moxxie for being too week, and not having the same melee skills as Millie.

It obvious that she wants her daughter to have a similar life as her, where she keeps her head down, and has a partner that is able to defend Millie. This because there's a level of safety in this crab bucket attitude. She'd very unlikely to come to the notice of higher-ups. Like how Stolas being very involved in IMP and with Blitz.

But Blitz talked Millie round, and also showed her that she doesn't have to pigeon hole herself like that. She has years of evidence that Blitz could do it, and him pointing out how good she is when she fell back into thinking of herself as just the muscle.

Rolando's trying to exploit vulnerability that she's updated against. (It's super ineffective).

Ok after that sight side tangent of with Millie's head, back to Blitz's.

The "your going to die alone" has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, tripping Blitz up alot. Because it comes twofold for his fear of hurting his loved ones, making their life worse, and his fear of abandonment. Because he was abandoned, that did happen.

Making him feel like he has it to push away the people he love for there own, and that they'll leave him eventually so might as well push them away now. He's got a lot of previous evidence tied to this.

It's going to take more then Fizz and Millie telling him he didn't ruin theirs, for him to start to be able to unpick this. Because he's still certain it's true. Even if he's improved the lives of most of the people he knows.

And even Fizz who were directly effected by the mistake Blitz still punishing himself for, has told him that being made disabled didn't ruin his life.

There's a whole debate in my head whether Barbie would have had such trouble with addiction; if she wasn't assuming/told that her brother started the fire on purpose, that killed their mum. I'm honestly not sure. But it does seem like her resentment over it has made it harder on her. And that all seems to stem from Cash abuse. (I'm sure Cash is the one to tell Blitz that Fizz said he'd die alone).

Ok on to how the these are interacting/fucking up his relationship to Stolas. Blitz is definitely is afraid to love Stolas for a number of reasons. (You knew I'd get there at somepoint right 😛).

Cus a whole load are clashes together for him, making it really difficult for him because about see things from the outside. with the "royal demons don't give a shit about guys like us" one.

Making Blitz rationalize that it's gotta be about the sex, and being of use. Anything that shows this assumption is wrong has to be disregarded with distortion.

But when Stolas takes sex off the table, and still talking about feeling, and relationships; it makes Blitz's fear of abandonment go turbo. It's not rational but it's the only rule Blitz has that might make Stolas keep him.

He feels like that sex is all he has to give to a prince after all. And he wanted Stolas to stay for a long while now. It's not a grimoire his hallucinations put on a golden pedestal after all. And there a a lot of similarity to how Stolas and his Mumma vanish.

(Debøra pør favør pointed out this emotion damage so now you have to suffer too 😭https://x.com/_Choco_torta/status/1859028103772955135)

"I'm going to die alone" and 'I must be of use' Blitz freaks out badly in queen Bee after Ozzie's. Blitz believed that he's be rejected by Stolas, he's been shoved back into the box of it just being about lust.

Because he wants more, but feels he's unworthy, it's got him hurt coming and going. He's got to shut down any attempt by Stolas to have something real. But he was also hurt constantly feeling sex is all that he's got to offer, and all Stolas would want.

"I make everyone's lives worse" and "We don't get get rid of family". Ok this is into theory level but think Master Mind and Sinsmas are going hit these last two harddddd. (We're one week from mastermind).

It looks likely that Stolas is going to lose Via, face punishment for the illegal deal, and be dragged for the affair. With Via swallowing a lot gaslighting about not being loved by Stolas (lines from the trailer).

Blitz will probably going assume it's another another life he's made worse, where he's caused them to lose their own family. Don't think this will play well with last guy he fell in love with he blow up.

It's going to make it much harder for him to remove the idea; that that him loving some will only hurt them.

Alot of the reasons Blitz thought it was ok to get close to Stolas are tied up in these beliefs. He assumes Stolas was powerful and immortal, so couldn't be hurt physically like Fizz or Mumma.

He assumed that a prince would never fall for an imp, so only he could get hurt emotionally. It couldn't end the same way as Verosika. Blitz thinking he's the only one to be able to be hurt, and get to be useful not just to Stolas, but provide a better life for his whole family. It would seem like a bargain. (And the self punishment aspect probably wasn't going be a turn off for him, cus Blitz thinks he deserves it).

This season seems slow be eroding that pedestal Blitz put Stolas on (and vice versa). It's hurts, and it's knocking the stuffing out of both of them; but it's bring Stolas to earth for Blitz. Making his more of a real person in his eyes.

Eh probably a lot way to go, but I'm here for it.

(was very loosely based on this post, because it got me thinking about distortions vs core beliefs. But then I went off on a whole thing, so thought it would be weird to put it as a reblog. Still loved @akirathedramaqueen analysis and would recommend giving it a read 😀)

[jackalopc]

maybe i'll be a better man (by the time you come to your senses) a triple frontier fanfic series

a tom "redfly" davis-focused & rediron fanfic series, by @jackalopc. featuring the primary slowburn-ish? (it's complicated) ship of tom "redfly" davis/william "ironhead" miller.

series summary:

Tom "Redfly" Davis' life was slowly starting to unravel, though you'd never know from the outside. The future of his life was uncertain: did he choose a marriage (that's been failing for longer than he cared to admit), or his career (the closest thing he views to a "higher calling" for himself)? All while years of denial, neglect, and a lot of untreated childhood trauma was finally taking its toll. His subordinate, teammate, and best friend Will Miller calls him out on his bullshit, as he always does (because really, he's kind of always been the only one who could get away with it). He starts making him face the harsh truths he'd been trying so desperately to shove down into a dark, little pit inside of himself. Then, the last crack that finally breaks the dam comes: Will is shot. After that, nothing stays the same. If he thought everything was a mess before, he didn't know the meaning of the word. Yet despite the turbulence, maybe it's also the chance to find the right path forward.

Redfly was courageous, he thought, but really only when he was on a mission (if he was being honest with himself). Will though? It seemed like Will was everything he wasn't: Confident and secure in himself, the only reason anything is hidden from public view is because of regulations. He wished he could be like him. He wished he could have him.

other features you'll see in the series under the cut

(wait why do you need other features?? because apparently just saying it's about redfly and rediron isn't enough??? oh huh okay, weird... well, onwards with some other stuff about it ig)

primarily written from redfly's pov, save for occasional glimpses into other's in small interludes and such between main-story fics.

it's going to be a series of main-story fic's that range in size, depth, and even how much time takes place. ranging from one shots to multi-fic. also multi-rating, each fic has it's own rating. but there are going to be E rated works in there, as a heads up. these will probably be for sexual-content but i can't promise yet it's elusively for that

bonus background poly between the other four outside of tom (no will/ben however, dw)! with eventual background fishben solidified.

basically my "hey what if all that cannon like, didn't happen though?" series... you heard that right this is my fix it timeline and yeah, i'm doing it by making my favorite tragic blorbo a deeply, deeply repressed bisexual man. it's just what i do. the movie didn't give me backstories, and i'm making it y'all's problem.

will miller struggling with a new found disability and grappling with what that means for himself and also especially how the others (and ofc especially redfly) navigate the change too.

exploring shit that comes with having your life ripped away via shit like divorce, transitioning out of the military and not handling it well, having literal parts of your identity fall apart, disabilities, etc.

smut :)

my daily growing obsession with redfly & this pairing in general

I JUST WAN'T Y'ALL TO LOVE HIM LIKE I LOVE HIM

um... yeah... look man this is legit just. gonna be an entire series about two not-quite-yet middle aged men just, having their lives ripped apart and finding comfort in one another

[peachdues]

peach thank you for the compass teasers! I love seeing Sanemi being down horrendously. If you’re okay with sharing, can you give us some insight into the next chapter? No rush queen 🫶🏻♥️

Awww thanks friend!! I can give some idea, sure!

Last chapter was focused on Sanemi x Reader and them finally getting together. Next chapter is a return back to the plot — so more Corps activities. You’ll also see a full hashira meeting and get an idea of some tension among them.

Beyond that, the next chapter also focuses a lot on Sanemi navigating his new relationship — and what that looks like for him. Compass really is a study of Sanemi’s self loathing, so next chapter is also the first time Sanemi begins to open up to Reader about his childhood (ie his mother and his parents in general) and you’ll see how much that trauma has affected him — and dictates how he navigates his relationship with Ms. Bookstore. Especially when it comes to intimacy.

A main point of tension in the story is Sanemi’s efforts to keep his life within the Corps separate from his life with Reader — naturally, the two are going to converge eventually, so that’s all being set up in the background!

Annnnnnd next chapter is setting up for a major death

[jgyllenhaalstannie]

⁂Meet the parents⁂(Steven grant x f!AA! reader)

Summary: reader takes Steven to finally meet her parents for dinner and has to prepare him for what her family is like

Warnings: slightly cursing most likely, a little angst if u squint, black trauma

A/n: this is intended to be a female/feminine and African American reader so just a heads up! I've been thinking about writing smth like this for a while now

A/n2: this is honestly so fuckn long and I'm so sorry LOL

◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣

"Now I have to warn you, my family is a bit...much." You both sat in the car in front of your parents house. The car was turned off so you were both is a weirdly comfortable silence. As much as you loved your family it was always rough bringing people to meet them as they always scared them away by being too loud or gossiping a bit too much. But Steven insisted on meeting them, even after your constant warnings.

"Your family can't possibly be that bad, love. I think you're just being a bit of a scaredy cat." Steven raised his eyebrows at you and tapped your nose playfully. You rolled your eyes and smiled a bit. He never met your family personally, he just knew the little stories that you would tell him that you remembered from your childhood. You closed your eyes and sighed softly "I'm not scared I have nothing to be scared of. It's just..." it was hard to tell him straight up that black families are a lot different from other families "they have their many differences to say the least, and I'm not even sure if it's just my mom and dad there or if they invited my cousi-." Cutting you off, your phone rang violently. It was your mother. Hesitantly you picked it up and placed it on speaker.

"When you gon' get here? This food gon get cold now." Your mother questioned, the pots and pans clattering in the background. "We're actually just looking for parking mama, we'll be there soon don't worry." You looked over at Steven with a nervous expression. "Aight now don't be making me wait for you and you bringing company ova to my damn house.. " You rolled your eyes at your mother's comment. "I'm not mama, I'll see you in a few." And before you could say anything else she had hung up. You sighed loudly once again and placed your head on the steering wheel. "I guess we shouldn't keep her waiting, might ring you again." Steven said softly. "Don't worry, this night will so swimmingly. " You smiled at his vocabulary and opened your car door. "Let's get this over with."

Soon enough you were knocking on the front door. Your mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts of what could happen throughout the night. "And when you're speaking to any adult just say yes or no sir or ma'am, you will quickly be called disrespectful. " You rushed out any last warnings to Steven at the door. Surprisingly he was the more calm one for once. "Breathe. I've got it. Besides,im always respectful." Just after he finished the door swung open and you both were greeted by your mother, wearing her good blouse and church shoes. "There's my baby! Come in, both of ya! " Your mother let you in and closed the door behind you. The house was exactly how it was after you moved out. That yellow-orange tint to the lighting and brown cabinets and floors. The scent of homemade food traveled through the whole house.

"Ray! Get in here, your daughter and her lil friend are here!" You'd forgotten what her yelling sounded like after so many years. She knew Steven was your boyfriend but still denys it, especially your father. You watched your father hobble into the living room with his patterned button up shirt and glistening bald head. "Though you had forgot about us, so busy thinking you grown and allat." You smiled and shook your head. You looked over at Steven at seen him picking his nails and examining the old house."Mama, dad. This is Steven." He finally looked at your parents after hearing his name and gave a small smile, sticking out his hand for them to shake. "Happy to finally meet you both,I've heard so many nice things about you." Your mom chuckled and shook his hand "Good things huh? Back then we were such awful parents to her apparently, couldn't wait to get out and live her own grown ass life." You smiled out of embarrassment "Mama I never said that at all." She put a hand on your back "Come, let's get to what y'all really came for, that good food. "

After a while of getting settled and your mom blurtting out your business to everyone, you all finally sat down in the to eat in living room. You had a kitchen and dining room, of course, but your mother would have lost her head if anyone got food in the dining room. Steven had helped your mother pass out the plates as you stayed and talked with your father on the couch.

"So tell us a lil bit about yo self, Steven. What's yo last name?" He felt his face get warm from embarrassment, "Grant, miss." Your mother turned to you with an eyebrow raise, "think you got a cousin with that name, think they up there with the Lord now though." Your eyes widened as she continued to eat as if nothing happened. "So what do you do for work, son? " Your father finally chimed in to speak after almost eating half his plate. You looked at Steven as he looked at you as well. You knew how this was going to end. "I used to work at a gift shop at a museum but I got um, fired.Sir." You saw him look down at his plate and tried to eat to distract himself from your parents reactions. "Don't be letting him use you for yo money, girl. Don't be hangin' 'round no bums." "He is not a bum, mama! How and why would you even say that?" You quickly shut down your mothers disrespectful comments. "Don't be getting smart with me girl! I can still whoop yo ass at yo grown age, don't phase me none." Your father placed a hand on your mothers shoulder, "Not in front of company, Jeanine." "I don't give a damn, Ray. I don't want my daughter with a bum. Ian saying that he is, I'm just lettin' her know to remember that."

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your anger and you look over at Steven. He had his chin almost to his chest as he picked at his plate of food to distract himself from the argument happening in front of him. You grabbed his hand from under the table, causing him to pick his head up. "Wanna head out?" You whispered to him. He hesitated before he shook his head no,"I can handle it.." You pressed your lips together and squeezed his hand tightly. "Ok mama, I get it. Can we at least try and act presentable?" She shrugged and continued eating her food. "You watch football? Basketball? Anything like that?" Your father knew bringing up sports would annoy your mother, but it was better than the constant arguing. "No sir, I'm uh more of a cricket person myself." Steven gave him a small shy smile. "Ahh" he exclaimed "I just noticed you had that lil accent, where you from son?" "England, sir. I moved here about a year or two ago.Been trying to pick up on the american slang, so many different words."

Steven and your father talked for a few while you and your mother sat in silence. You didn't wanna say anything, the slightest thing said to you by her would be considered disrespectful and get the black slapped off you. She was silent until she suddenly let out a weird comment. "You know them British didn't like us black folks, we was slaves to them back in the day." Your eyes widened as she continued to talk "Had to follow what they said. Yo great grandmother was a slave to those British people until she was finally a free woman and had yo grandma, may her soul rest in peace." She drew the cross across her chest and pointed towards the sky. Your face was so scrunched up you almost couldn't see. Why would she bring that up, especially in front of company? It was like she wanted to embarrass you. Ever since Steven said he got fired your mother has been slick with her comments and disrespectful remarks. And of course, your father fails to do anything. You had to go home.

"You know what, it's actually getting pretty late. Think we should start heading out, he's got that job interview tomorrow." That last part was a lie, but you know your parents believed it. You just wanted to get out of there. "Lemme wrap that food up for y'all then, bring me yo' plates." Your father grabbed the plates and headed into the kitchen. Your mother didn't do anything but continue eating, not looking up once. It was like the memories from your childhood started to flood back to you just standing there. Steven took the 2 plates that your father had placed in a bag and shook his hand "Pleasure meeting you both, sir. Have a wonderful evening." Your father smiled and went to hug you. "Bye baby, sorry about your mother." You gave a fake smile to him and hugged him back before finally walking out the door. You didn't say anything until you finally got into the car and put your hands in your head.

"I'm sorry, love." Steven said quietly, placing the food on the floor of the car. "I should have insisted on meeting your family so much,this would have never happened." You felt your eyes began to sting as you quickly blinked them away. You removed your hands and shook your head, "Just wish she would change.Nothing changed since I left." You grabbed your keys and started the car before finally driving home in silence, thinking about your mother.

◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣◈◈◈▣▣

[beifong-brainrot]

Suyin wasn't "coerced" to commit a crime, neither did she want to take herself out of the situation. She wanted to get her friends out of paying for their crimes because she's spoiled and entitled.

She didn't "have" to travel the world, she was sent to family members to take her away from a criminal and endangering environment, and she decided to escape because she's too much of a pick me girl to stay with the so called family "that didn't show her affection". To be honest, you speak of her as some kind of adult avatar-styled Rapunzel, instead of a teenager who deserved to be reprimanded.

She did turn her life around, and kudos to the creators for showing that. No one can say that her story and background is boring by any chance.

She, however, is not the most likeable character out there to a big part of the fandom, but I seriously doubt someone is taking it as seriously as you seem to do. Just chill.

Istg this happens almost everytime I post something mildly touching on the fact that Suyin deserves compassion too. Though you may be the same anon who blew up my inbox a while back so it might just be you.

I've always found the disdain we have for "troubled teens" upsetting because usually, when a teenager "acts out", there's more of a reason behind it that just "ooh they're spoilt or entitled".

[Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal ideation mentions]

Like, I was a very difficult teen back in the day. I argued with my parents, even got into physical altercations, skipped school, ran away from home at night. I was also going through a severe depression, dealing with a shitton of childhood trauma, cutting on the regular and making multiple attempts on my life. Hell, if my parents had brushed me off as "a kid who needs to be disciplined" I probably would've killed myself at 14. It doesn't excuse me for punching my dad in the stomach when he was just trying to stop me from running away into the night but it doesn't mean I didn't deserve help.

[End of Trigger Warning]

These two things can be correct at the same time. Suyin can have done a shitty thing that deserves reprimand and that she needs help that she seemingly had to find on her own. But like, guess which of these two is almost exclusively focused on.

And I mean, it's totally not like the Avatar fandom has a habit of expressing extreme hate towards young girls (especially young girls of colour) making sub optimal choices or just beind "annoying". I've just never seen that before.

Suyin grew up with Toph, who Lin herself has described like this:

Suyin : No, no. My children are a blessing. Lin: Yeah, mom used to say that too, but she never meant it.

Which btw, still an incredibly hillarious thing to say in front of Suyin's children: "Hi kids I'm your aunt Lin and your mother is lying about loving you"

While Suyin has, as a child, expressed doubt that Toph would even care that she's skipping school. And as an adult, she has described her childhood with Lin as "competing for their mother's affection" and still has doubts whether or not her mother is happy with how either of them turned out.

Hell, even though Su and Toph have been said to have made up, Toph still maintains a heavy layer of distance between them, seemingly dissappearing for years at a time!

It's honestly sad how Suyin hugs Toph and puts up statues of her everywhere in Zaofu and yet Toph still just fucked off to the swamp when Opal was probably less then ten and did not contact them.

I mean, sounds like there's not a lot of motherly affection going on there, dude. Idk what to tell ya. We know there were no fathers around either.

And Lin was also a victim of this environment, so I don't really want this to come off as me blaming her for the way she acted towards Su. But Lin is hardly what I would call affectionate.

So of course Suyin would put so much stock in her relationships outside the house. And her friends happened to be fucking criminals fucking hell. And of course Lin, being a kid too did not know how to approach this situation properly, so she inadvertently just pushed Suyin closer to them by insulting them and making her feel defensive.

Because that's what all fucking teens do. The internalise things, they rely on their peers to form their perception of things and they want to be independent. So when someone, especially someone who isn't a parent tries to control them, guess how they'll react? They dig their heels in. Especially a teen like Suyin who has virtually no reason to listen to her older sister other than a vague "I know better than you" type of vibe which really pisses teens off. That's like the time when talking down to them is the worst thing to do.

And fuck off with saying getting arrested and screamed at by your sister in the middle of the road isn't a stressful situation that you wolud wanna get out of. Lin punched a car so hard it dented! (Especially that Lin has already been confirmed to use her status as a police officer against people she has a vendetta against, like when SHE TRIED TO THROW PEMA IN JAIL FOR STEALING HER MANS like how tf did we brush over that)

What I always find interesting in this scene is the front that Su puts on in front of Lin, which slips up a few times, particularly when Lin can't see her expression. Because Suyin is, of course being a fucking brat and taunting Lin, but you can clearly see that she's stressed out.

Suyin also describing the reason she helped her friends as a getaway driver is something I find interesting:

Suyin: I didn't steal anything. I just drove the car. I owed my friends a favor. It's not a big deal.

Of course she's scared and minimising her involvement but the usage of "owing her friends" could very easily imply her not exactly being too hyped about this, as well as her insistence on not stealing anything.

Because the thing about Suyin is that, especially in the flashbacks, we see her only in Lin's PoV. We don't see her relationship with her friends, what led up to the robbery, anything. Which makes sense, because the flashbacks are supposed to be Lin's. But that means we're viewing Su with the inherent bias of Lin, who clearly has an agenda against Su.

Lin clearly blames Suyin for Toph leaving policework, despite us later seeing how burnt out and cynical Toph was about being a cop. Its more likely that Su's arrest was a wake-up call for Toph, but she left due to the buildup of stress and disillusionment and Lin, who has been idolising her mother and her mother's career blamed it on Suyin in her head.

Hell, even they made up, Lin still immediately pivots to accusing Suyin of being involved in the Red Lotus' attack. Despite the attack placing Suyin's life, the lives of her sons and the lives of her guards at risk and Suyin going out of her way to thwart it.

And Suyin's life is just a fucking mess after this point like: betrayal by close friend, daughter kidnapped by terrorists, anarchy in the kingdom, leaders of 2 foreign governments trying to pressure her into subjugating the people in the name of a monarch she doesn't support, betrayal part 2; child boogaloo, the country she lives in being declared a dictatorship, city under literal siege, threat of attack in 24 hours, the fucking Avatar doing fuck all to help, a desperate attempt at assassinating the leader, getting caught and placed in questionably humane restraints, having to watch her daughter be forced to flee, PUBKIC HUMILIATION, the arrest of her non combative son and husbandd, INHUMANE JAIL CELL...

Do I need to go on? Like the moment the Krew came to her gouse her life just started to fucking fall apart its actually kinda hillarious.

And calling Suyin a "pick me" is just... unfounded? Who's she trying to get picked by? Her mom who doesn't love her? Girlie just wanted a family she literally said so in the show, put your listening ears on, babes.

I understand that Suyin isn't the most likeable character to people. I can understand why they dislike her. She can be annoying, hypocritical, rash, the poor structuring of the episodes around her and Lin makes it so she gets unearned favour from the writers etc. People who like Lin and Kuvira, two extremely popular characters in the fandom have an easy villain in their faves' lives if they just tweak Suyin a bit.

But that doesn't mean I'm obligated to dislike her too or that I'm not allowed to post about her in a way that doesn't allign with the fandom's narrative of her. You're not obligated to read it, hun, you can block the #pro suyin beifong tag if it makes you that upset to see me

I want to appreciate parts of Suyin which aren't highlighted by the fandom and I'm allowed to do that. Just because it doesn't fit with your clearly overtly negative opion of the character well, tough luck. And hey, I gladly take the opportunity to talk about Suyin, but I've also made a ridiculous amount of posts around har and have probably addressed almost every single fandom complaint of her at some point so I'm starting to get a little tired of repeating myself lol.

And I'll be the first to admit, my own teenage years probably heavily affect how compassionate I am towards Suyin, particularly in her younger years. But I know how much people hate "troubled teens", how little compassion thet are given.

The narrative that if a misbehaving teenager just gets deisciplined and reprimanded enough they'll stop being "spoilt and entitled" or acting out is wrong and harmful. It hurts tons of teenagers by not getting them the help they need and it would've fucking killed me.

Also hun, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I tend to use hyperbole a lot. I'm a dramatic bitch. Like did you also think I was serious when I said I'd shoot myself if I saw another ad for Amazon's shit lotr wannabe show?

Tbh everytime I get an ask like this I vaguely consider doubling down and commiting to the bit of being the fandom's "Lin Beifong hater". Though I feel like a lot of people wouldn't realise its a bit and think I actually hate her for real lol.

[xlianovna]

「 today's a pretty tough day for me, so how about I make it worse with some rough headcanons? :P TW's: abortion, motherhood

motherhood: as you probably know, I draw a lot from the comics to make up my Natasha's background because I had started writing her in 2010 and don't like completely changing all my shit just because new movies come out. so the following draws heavily from earth-616.

Natasha knows that she was abandoned as a baby. her parents remain a mystery to her, and though sometimes she likes to think that they had no choice, other times she fears that her mother simply didn't want her. as though her mother knew just by looking at her that she'd grow up to be a monster with blood stained hands who wasn't deserving of love. it's the sort of thing that Natasha buries deep and tries not to think about. she was fortunate to have a couple of semi-father figures in her life with Ivan (I ignore him falling in love with her because ew), Logan, and then even mcu Alexei (who I just HC is a completely different human than the Alexei she was forced to marry).

but a mother's love was much harder for her to come by, especially since she grew up under the cruel tutelage of the Headmistress. when she was a teen, she made a mistake and got pregnant. I know in the comics she was in love with the boy, but for my Nat, it wasn't so much about love for him, but the prospect of unconditional love from a child. she had named her unborn daughter Rose, and embraced the idea of being a mother with all her heart, ready to give a child the love she had so desperately craved. when the Red Room found out, though, she was forced to have an abortion, and then was sterilized so that it could never happen again. this is a trauma she never talks about and is her most closely guarded secret, but Mother's Day will always remain a painful reminder of what could have been. this is in part the reason why she's so fierce when it comes to protecting children.

then Melina happened. I know, I'm completely changing things around here, but I refuse to take away the relationships with Yelena, Alexei, and Melina, so for my Nat, that childhood in the 90's were implanted memories as an attempt on the Soviet's part to rekindle Natasha's loyalty at a time when she began questioning it. though she now knows none of it was real, the time she spent in a suburban family in Ohio was among the happiest memories of her life. Melina may not be her mother, but there were times when she truly believed it. there was love that she swear was real, and that even though she's desperately afraid to seek it out again, she wants more than anything.

in short, motherhood is something sacred to Natasha. it's something that she believes she doesn't deserve, but that she will defend until her dying breath. 」

[aspd-culture]

Hi I'm new here so sorry if this has already been answered, people with aspd are often referred to as callous and cold but the rate of anxiety and depression with them is quite high thanks to it being a trauma disorder, so how do the two things coexist? Shouldn't they be mutually exclusive?

Firstly welcome!/pos

So unfortunately, the public's perception of ASPD has gotten very mixed with the understanding of the actual symptoms of ASPD. Callous and cold are certainly personality traits that are more likely to appear in pwASPD, but that is not all of us. In personality disorders, due to the nature of them being baked into our personality, which is part biological and part environmental, you will see heavy variations in symptoms.

Additionally, a part of the actual evaluations for ASPD (at least both of the ones I took to get diagnosed - I am from the US for reference) is questions relating to being charismatic/charming and "masters of manipulation". Even the public perception hits on this - saying we are "always playing a social chess game". Those things aren't really compatible with being callous and cold all the time.

To get more into this in the context of your question, though, as you mentioned, ASPD is almost always caused by some amount of trauma. To my understanding as someone with a background in child development, especially in early childhood, our brains basically got here one of two ways if it's trauma based.

The first is our brains developing under the belief that the symptoms of ASPD are just how everyone is, due to being exposed to poor examples or a lack of exmaples of things like remorse, empathy, warmth, etc. This generally comes from abusive/neglectful/emotionally unavailable adults in the child's life and a lack of presence of adults that would guide the child's brain into the natural development of these things because children are literally always learning in the first few years of life especially, and the brain is forming itself around the understanding that the adults give the child of how a human being thinks/acts/behaves/responds.

The other is having specific trauma break down the prior, proper development under the belief that it was either entirely mistaken and people are supposed to behave another way, or as a protective reaction when the brain believes it cannot survive any other way. Research has pointed to trauma directly impacting the neurology of people with PTSD at any age, and that is especially prominent in the ages that ASPD first starts showing up at (15 and younger).

Regardless of which it is, there is more than *just* ASPD being made most of the time in either of these circumstances. When things are unstable in a child's life, they become very likely to develop any number of anxiety disorders. When led to the belief that nothing will ever be good, anyone of any age tends to end up depressed, and pwASPD generally have experiences that have made us see things that way for a *very* long time.

Depression especially is very compatible with ASPD even in public perception - lack of motivation, disinterest in socializing, maladaptive understanding of the world (believing nothing will get better), etc. are symptoms of both ASPD and Major Depressive Disorder.

As for anxiety, it isn't incompatible, but it is probably fairly far removed from the anxiety that prosocials have, specifically in what the anxiety centers on. It is less likely (but definitely not impossible) that a pwASPD would have anxiety about wanting others to like them or worrying about social interactions, but it is very likely to see pwASPD having anxiety about the risk of harm coming to them, people being "out to get us", or that anything good in our life may be unstable and can be lost or taken from us. Insecurity in relationships is common in ASPD because of that type of anxiety - we tend to struggle with the belief that the other shoe will drop, so to speak, any time things seem good or calm in our life. That alone causes a serious amount of anxiety.

These kinds of misconceptions generally come from a specific misrepresentation of ASPD - the idea that we have no emotions or cannot feel certain particular emotions. While sometimes our emotions can be blunted, and some pwASPD are incapable of feeling particular emotions, which ones in particular vary greatly. Boredom and anger/irritation are pretty much always able to be felt by pwASPD to some degree, but outside of that there's a lot of different presentations of the muted emotions trait (not a diagnostic criteria required for diagnosis btw, it's just a common trait seen in many pwASPD). Some people find themselves incapable of feeling things like fear/anxiety and/or depression, sure, but others like me actually feel those at full force but experience heavily mutes positive emotions like happiness. And again, not all of us even have blunted emotions at all, removing any reason we wouldn't be able to have depression or anxiety.

By the way, nothing bad against you for this question!! It absolutely makes sense that this would be confusing to understand what with the common ways that ASPD is talked about and shown in pop culture, documentaries, and often even academic materials. I hold no ill will towards anyone with any genuine misunderstanding of ASPD. It is extremely difficult to grasp the truth of life with this disorder because even the sources that should be reliable often aren't - with small sample sizes, poor sample randomness (so many studies about ASPD are taken exclusively on prisoners), self-reporting (why the hell would we trust a random researcher), and even people who were diagnosed on the stand without advisement from any mental health professional (so people who may not even *have* ASPD, but they have what someone in the legal system *thought* was ASPD). It is so heavily stigmatized and misrepresented that I also had many of these perceptions well into my teen years, even as I recognized symptoms of ASPD in myself. This whole post is /info, I just have terrible issues with tone due to my autism.

Plain text below the cut:

Firstly welcome!/pos

So unfortunately, the public's perception of ASPD has gotten very mixed with the understanding of the actual symptoms of ASPD. Callous and cold are certainly personality traits that are more likely to appear in pwASPD, but that is not all of us. In personality disorders, due to the nature of them being baked into our personality, which is part biological and part environmental, you will see heavy variations in symptoms.

Additionally, a part of the actual evaluations for ASPD (at least both of the ones I took to get diagnosed - I am from the US for reference) is questions relating to being charismatic/charming and "masters of manipulation". Even the public perception hits on this - saying we are "always playing a social chess game". Those things aren't really compatible with being callous and cold all the time.

To get more into this in the context of your question, though, as you mentioned, ASPD is almost always caused by some amount of trauma. To my understanding as someone with a background in child development, especially in early childhood, our brains basically got here one of two ways if it's trauma based.

The first is our brains developing under the belief that the symptoms of ASPD are just how everyone is, due to being exposed to poor examples or a lack of exmaples of things like remorse, empathy, warmth, etc. This generally comes from abusive/neglectful/emotionally unavailable adults in the child's life and a lack of presence of adults that would guide the child's brain into the natural development of these things because children are literally always learning in the first few years of life especially, and the brain is forming itself around the understanding that the adults give the child of how a human being thinks/acts/behaves/responds.

The other is having specific trauma break down the prior, proper development under the belief that it was either entirely mistaken and people are supposed to behave another way, or as a protective reaction when the brain believes it cannot survive any other way. Research has pointed to trauma directly impacting the neurology of people with PTSD at any age, and that is especially prominent in the ages that ASPD first starts showing up at (15 and younger).

Regardless of which it is, there is more than *just* ASPD being made most of the time in either of these circumstances. When things are unstable in a child's life, they become very likely to develop any number of anxiety disorders. When led to the belief that nothing will ever be good, anyone of any age tends to end up depressed, and pwASPD generally have experiences that have made us see things that way for a *very* long time.

Depression especially is very compatible with ASPD even in public perception - lack of motivation, disinterest in socializing, maladaptive understanding of the world (believing nothing will get better), etc. are symptoms of both ASPD and Major Depressive Disorder.

As for anxiety, it isn't incompatible, but it is probably fairly far removed from the anxiety that prosocials have, specifically in what the anxiety centers on. It is less likely (but definitely not impossible) that a pwASPD would have anxiety about wanting others to like them or worrying about social interactions, but it is very likely to see pwASPD having anxiety about the risk of harm coming to them, people being "out to get us", or that anything good in our life may be unstable and can be lost or taken from us. Insecurity in relationships is common in ASPD because of that type of anxiety - we tend to struggle with the belief that the other shoe will drop, so to speak, any time things seem good or calm in our life. That alone causes a serious amount of anxiety.

These kinds of misconceptions generally come from a specific misrepresentation of ASPD - the idea that we have no emotions or cannot feel certain particular emotions. While sometimes our emotions can be blunted, and some pwASPD are incapable of feeling particular emotions, which ones in particular vary greatly. Boredom and anger/irritation are pretty much always able to be felt by pwASPD to some degree, but outside of that there's a lot of different presentations of the muted emotions trait (not a diagnostic criteria required for diagnosis btw, it's just a common trait seen in many pwASPD). Some people find themselves incapable of feeling things like fear/anxiety and/or depression, sure, but others like me actually feel those at full force but experience heavily mutes positive emotions like happiness. And again, not all of us even have blunted emotions at all, removing any reason we wouldn't be able to have depression or anxiety.

By the way, nothing bad against you for this question!! It absolutely makes sense that this would be confusing to understand what with the common ways that ASPD is talked about and shown in pop culture, documentaries, and often even academic materials. I hold no ill will towards anyone with any genuine misunderstanding of ASPD. It is extremely difficult to grasp the truth of life with this disorder because even the sources that should be reliable often aren't - with small sample sizes, poor sample randomness (so many studies about ASPD are taken exclusively on prisoners), self-reporting (why the hell would we trust a random researcher), and even people who were diagnosed on the stand without advisement from any mental health professional (so people who may not even *have* ASPD, but they have what someone in the legal system *thought* was ASPD). It is so heavily stigmatized and misrepresented that I also had many of these perceptions well into my teen years, even as I recognized symptoms of ASPD in myself. This whole post is /info, I just have terrible issues with tone due to my autism.

[justvessel]

Turn me into your mannequin, and I'll turn you into my puppet queen. Won't you come and dance in the dark with me? Show me what you are, I am desperate to know nobody better than the perfect enemy. Digital demons make the night feel heavenly.

Make it real, 'cause anything's better than the way I feel right now. I can offer you a blacklit paradise. Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky. Lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails, with one eye on the door, other eye on a rail, other eye following a scarlet trail, and the last few drops from the Holy Grail.

Ascensionism by Sleep Token | Main Navigation | DATV Masterlist

Simple facts and backround:

[CW/TW: loss of loved ones, oprhan, trauma, nightmares, corrupted feelings, family issues]

[Spoilerwarning for DAO dalish origin background and story]

Crow rogue

grew up in Dalish clan, was the younger sister of Tamlem and always tagged close behind him and Fraey (my HoF)

they lost their parents very early that’s why she had a kinda unhealthy relationship to them, almost saw them as her parents but they loved her nevertheless

as the blight got her brother and Fraey was sent to the Grey Warden she also wanted to tag along, but got denied

left the clan as they started to travel too far away because she wanted to live with her ‘sister/mother’ again

as she met her brother as victim of the blight she was desperate to find a ‘cure’, she could not again loose him

that way she also found the camp of Fraey and had to witness her killing Tamlem, they buried him together like the Dalish would’ve done

 after a huge (verbal) fight she wanted to stay with the hero group, was sent to Redcliffe to stay with Arl Eamon as long as possible 

she hated humans just like her brother until she met Alistair

after the blight she moved in with Fraey, Alistair and Zevran to the castle and learned everything important by them

kleptomaniac

always stole things to gain attention from her parental figures

she was literally raised by those three which ended in an unhealthy relationship to her emotions, like cover true emotions, seeing love as a mask and using her body as an absolute advantage [for more input look into Fraey’s character sheet]

always saw Alistair and Zevran like ‘new’ father figures

daddy issues

as soon as Zevran left them, she wanted to go out to find her own place in the world 

as she was often seen with the infamous crow as a child, the crows thought they could use her as a bait, that is how she ended with the crows themself and thought yeah, why not, i am a de riva now 

in her late 20s

could use her body and female benefits for fulfilling contracts

only divided people into three groups: hot (would sleep with), ugly (not interesting enough), creepy (will ignore or maybe kill)

is not interested in building lasting relationships and emotional bonding

emotions = weakness (saw how Fraey, Zevran and Alistair destroyed themselves with those things…)

is a complete flirt 

is scared of growing old (and ugly) and losing her charm/worth by implication

Viago gave her the name magpie because she loves shiny things (and to steal them)

nickname is Aeds, Illario started calling her maggi because of the other name

had an ongoing (secret) situationship with Illario, they met at a dinner party in the De Riva villa and couldn’t keep their hands off each other

only Viago, Teia and Catherina knew about her past and the situationship (Illario did not know about Zevran tho)

Catherina hates her, she says that Aedith is not worth of anything (especially not enough for her grandson)

she once tried to steal from no one else but Orianna [my inky], that’s when she got the little scar at her cheek

had a lot hard conversations with Varric because of all that childhood trauma

i mean, she lost all her founded families / father figures after another 

wears her hair similar to Zevran’s, the braid is something Alistair always did to her hair, and the vallaslin is an honour to Fraey

[aeternallis]

I was reading this vent post on Reddit about an Asian OP's frustrations when it comes to seeing cultural context and nuance be misinterpreted by white/western fans and how it often clearly shows in fanfiction, yknow? The topic they were specifically talking about was corporal punishment, and how its prevalence in Asian households are often easily dismissed by western fans as a collective moral failing as a whole.

And surprising no one (and maybe cuz it’s Reddit) the comment section—while starting out polite and decently enough—gradually descended into accusations of "abuse apologist" and "just because it's culture doesn't mean it's right" and "gee, thanks for justifying my abuser" etc etc. There was some bad-faith takes on OP's post, and it turned into a petty group convo that had no semblance of depth in the end.

Maybe it's just me, but imo, there is often this contradicting mindset I see in (English-speaking) Asian media fandoms where people on one hand are encouraged to do their research in regards to the cultural context of the media they’re consuming, since by not understanding it, there is some level of cultural erasure going on.

But that on the other hand, hoping for people to have some understanding of said cultural context of the media they're consuming is in and of itself a form of fandom policing to a certain degree, when the purpose of fandom (and fanfiction) is escapism and doing whatever the hell you want.

Faced with this contradiction, imo it shouldn’t be any surprise that POC find it hard to speak up in a fandom, let alone find some semblance of unity when it comes to talking about context and nuance.

Corporal punishment in and of itself is a very touchy subject for a lot of people; the topic can be very triggering, and conversation around it can hit personal sore spots, especially when people have strong opinions in regards to the matter. In that sense, the conversation’s descent into chaos on that Reddit post was outright inevitable.

On the other hand, I can also understand OP’s frustrations wholeheartedly. It already sucks when you see a character from your cultural background be warped by western fans (and in some cases, villainized) and on a wider scale, the nuance of the story is either disregarded or turned on its head completely.

Like, I don't deny that corporal punishment—having gone through it myself whilst growing up (my Filipina mother's favorite weapons of choice were the broom, the hanger, and the belt)—did some damage to my psyche as a child. I don't deny that it's a form of domestic abuse and under any circumstances, should not be tolerated.

Due to my own experiences in life, I'd like to think I'd healed from all that (and even tease my parents occasionally about it). So for me personally, it was never something I questioned within my own family household or within my own environment, because of the fact that in a typical Asian household, corporal punishment was generally seen as something necessary for the betterment of the child.

In fact, there were moments in my childhood were my parents had been horrified by the thought of some of my friends boldly talking back to their parents, since they couldn't comprehend how a child can disregard that boundary between parent and child, the respect that parents take for granted from their children.

It was definitely a clash of cultures when we moved here in the US.

Specifically in regards to corporal punishment, its historic role as being a form of traditional discipline, its roots in Confucian philosophy, and how it’s seen/viewed in Asia within the context of its ever-changing cultural landscape—is in and of itself a behemoth subject that’s way too complicated to go over in one vent post and more often than not, overlaps with one's own traumas and personal issues.

And yes, it is ever-changing. Culture is never static, and evolves like everything else that is subject to time.

It’s harder to speak up within a fandom space in these instances, especially when such misunderstandings may have already become widely accepted fanon, yknow? (And as we in fandom know, talking shit about the fanon is as close as one will come to getting crucified). More than that, it's harder to speak up when one is talking about it through the vehicle of fanfiction, as fanfiction is a medium in which fans can and should be allowed to experiment.

It's even harder to speak up when these legitimate concerns are brushed off as petty and ridiculous arguments to bring up in the first place.

It's a luxury, I think, to be able to think this way.

And Idk, from my own personal experience being in fandom for 20+ years and as a POC, there’s always been this sort of delicate balancing act and subsequent reality check in that for the most part, white/western fandom is welcoming of learning cultural context and nuance only in so far and as long as it doesn't contradict their own biases. A lot of it comes off as performative sentiment, hence the reason why a lot of -isms are rampant in fandom the way they are.

Now, this isn’t to say it’s entirely the whole of western fans and the English-speaking side of fandom. Many are genuinely open to learning about new cultures and ways of thinking, and are humble enough to admit their internal biases. Yet still, there are those who aren’t or only ever pretend to be interested, so long as they can keep their safe space and their feelings, not to mention whatever sort of influence they think they may or may not have in fandom, insulated and protected.

Inevitably, when a POC speaks about their culture in said fandom and how it connects to the culture of said piece of media the fandom is built around (and especially when said POC comes from the very same culture in question), it can also at the same time act as a deconstruction of biases that a fandom has built up through certain headcanons and ideas that the community at large have subconsciously put on a pedestal.

I think this is a large part of the reason why particular fandoms can become overprotective and even downright hostile when POC choose to speak up, because their bubble of fandom escapism is perceived to be in danger.

This isn't meant to inflame anyone's defenses; after all, it's totally understandable that no one likes it when their biases are indirectly called out, and no one likes to be made to feel ignorant.

No one likes it when someone rattles the cage of a seemingly thriving fandom.

I guess at the end of it all, I think there's definitely some lack of humility and a level of self-entitlement at times from the western fandom at large, when it comes to consuming media content not from their own cultural setting.

And it’s this sort of fandom landscape that POC must navigate carefully, lest the culture and its integrity of said piece of media is almost entirely warped, all the while POC try to have a voice within a community in which its very nature is determined to keep those who can speak about nuance and context quiet and subdued.