#hes repressed his own feelings because he knows its not acceptable especially towards someone he considers a really good friend

[blackrocks-king]

He's homophobic! He's homophobic and torturing people who have homosexuality! /ref (very stupid joke)

NO ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

OKAY— Just to be clear— I don’t give a SHIT about gay people. They can do whatever they want.

But YOU— calling ME GAY— IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STORY ? !—

Especially with Aspen ? ? ?— WHY ME AND HIM ?— // We’re don’t even like each other . . that . . way.

Yeah. We don’t like each other that way. We . . don’t.

[makingspiritualityreal]

Numerology Life Path 1 - Your Birth Card and its Ruling Planet

Numerology Life Path Numbers and their assigned Tarot Card Meaning Series

This is the first post in my astrology/numerology/tarot series, that only concerns you, if you are a Life Path 1. Posts on consecutive Life Path Numbers will follow. Originally, I wanted to do them all in one post, but my writing turned out to be so long, I decided to split the post and seperate the Life Path Numbers. The introduction part of the post will be the same for all Life Path Numbers, in case you only read a post about your own Life Path Number, and nothing else.

Introduction   

The concept of a Birth Card links Tarot and Numerology together, in order to deepen our understanding of a vibration of a Life Path Number we are born with. The Birth Card, or rather Birth Cards, are Major Arcana Tarot Cards with assigned numbers, which correlate with Life Path Numbers. Understanding the meaning of tarot cards, mixed with the knowledge of Numerology Vibrations, helps create a more unique vision of your life experience.

A person with any given Life Path Number, having several Major Arcana energies present in their lives, usually struggles with one of the energies more than the other. As a result, life will probably force them to focus on mastering one of these energies. In general, however, any Life Path describes both your biggest downfall and ultimate triumph - just like with an Astrology Chart, the highlighted numbers/astrology houses point to your biggest strengths and weaknesses. For a better understanding of this concept, visit my article “Natal Chart - A map of your issues?”

Remember, that everyone, besides their Life Path Number and Birth Card also has a unique astrology chart. Thus, for some people embracing the higher expression of their energy is easier, for others it’s harder and it takes more time to master, and some energies become easier to deal with than others. Most human beings are somewhere in between, working on their path and having some achievements while struggling with difficulties at the same time 

In the spiritual community, there are differences in opinion on linking Astrological Planets and positions to specific numerology numbers energies. My take is a result of my own personal experience, conversations with other people in my field and research, in order to give you the widest possible spectrum of ideas and increase the understanding of every Life Path Number.

If you are a Master Number 11, 22 or 33, there will be a seperate post on how the Birth Cards apply to you as well. 

Even If you have only a basic understanding of Astrology, Tarot or Numerology, this post will still be helpful to you, because it describes the unique vibrational mix that comes from the expression of both these spiritual sciences mixed together. To calculate which Tarot Cards and what Life Path correspond to your birthday, click here.

Life Path 1 - The Wheel of Fortune, the Sun and the Magician 

One of the biggest struggles of a Life Path 1 is their need to release control patterns, and instead channel them into direction and embrace their own unique path through allowing themselves to be different and authentic. This requires these people to accept an element of faith in their lives, because as a pioneer, they won’t have any easy, familiar, logical guidelines or role models to follow. They have to learn how to identify, trust and listen to and follow their inner voice. That intuitive voice then leads them to a creative manifestation of their life path, as they become a trendsetter, leader and guide for others. Faith in their case means believing in themselves and their path, even if they can’t see a precise outline, and even if they have noone to validate their vision. 

Being born with this life path brings with it issues of the opposite nature to its purpose, before these natives manage to step into their unique creative or leadership position. These people may face rejection, ostracism and lack of acceptance for who they are, they may be rejected for not fitting in, for being “different” and misunderstood, starting with their family circle. This brings out the shadow side of the life path 1, which is practicing control, conformism and people pleasing, while they close off their heart and hide away from following their path. This can happen especially if they carry lingering intense trauma from all the rejection and possible abandonment they faced early on in their lives. Difficult situations can lead a Life Path 1 to adopt a coping strategy - while they people-please on the surface, they maintain tight, even repressive control underneath, which creates internal emotional blockages that result in selfishness, self centeredness, lack of openness and nervous tension. 

As much as these behaviors come from a place of suffering, the illusion of people pleasing that an unhappy Life Path 1 can create can have little to do with actual caring for others or forming bonds, since it is performed out of a need for self protection, not out of love. A hurt life Path 1 succumbs to a false belief, that the world is against them, and that everyone only cares for themselves. As a result, their emotional unavailability can create a high level of internalised loneliness due to icing out or hurting those, who actually care for them. Yet, even a suffering version of a Life Path 1, despite their individualistic streak deeply craves people validating their mission in this lifetime. If not worked on, this internal emotional blockage can stop these people from blossoming and stepping into their authentic role. 

To look into the ultimate expression that can be performed by a Life Path 1, we look at the assigned Tarot Birth Cards. 

The Magician - Being the Number 1 in Tarot, the Magician pertains to this Life Path having an ability to create and manifest their own, individual unique path, without needing to follow others, but rather inspiring others to follow them. The Magician being linked to the ultimate manifestation skill, does so easily because he trusts his gut instinct, and the path simply appears right in front of his eyes due to his own instantaneous, energetic creation. For better or for worse, Life Path 1s have that power, whether they realise it or not. Being such skillful manifestors, they can use it either to build, or to attract and recreate painful events, as long as it’s necessary for them to heal. This points to an essential question every Life Path 1 should ask themselves on the daily - what inside me has created this outcome? Which one of my internal decisions and emotional reactions has resulted in this situation? How did I subconsciously manifest this outcome? Life Path 1s are living proof, of how each and every one of us is an architect of our energetic reality, and how we always have a possibility to manifest a new beginning. A Life Path 1 that embraced this skill is someone, who effortlessly wields their creation power as an art of living. 

The Wheel of Fortune - This card points to the necessity for this Life Path to be able to learn how to handle life’s unpredictable situations, and not lose themselves in their false coping control mechanisms as a result of the shock. The Wheel of Fortune is a card of Fate, a card of sudden, unexpected events, that we have no influence over, but also the card of hopeful new beginnings, the understanding, that even the most dire situation can turn around. This card shows us, that the Universe is a balancing force, that works towards harmony by intervening in necessary moments, no matter how unpleasant these changes may seem to us, and that we can’t know, plan or influence everything with our limited perspective. This card is a projection of the internal faith, that a Life Path 1 must preserve in order to continue on their path with limited external support. The Wheel of Fortune shows us, that we need to surrender to the events happening around us, try to understand the meaning behind them, and make the most out of them. This also links to the Magician ability of creating something substantial even in the most difficult circumstances. These are all important lessons for a Life Path 1, that can resist certain events, if it feels they happened outside of their pre-approved plan. However, a matured Life Path 1 views these twists and turns of faith as new opportunities, that allow them to go even further and achieve more in life, because they know sometimes a shake-up is a wake up call.

The Sun - Teaches the Life Path 1 individual, how to embrace the carefree, free-spirited nature of this Tarot Card. This is necessary, in order to be able to breeze through life and not stop in one’s pursuit, even in the face of external disapproval. Number 1 is also ruled by the Sun astrologically, especially the positive, warming, leadership aspect, that makes people feel cared for in its own, unique way. This describes the role, that a Life Path 1 can have in their community, when they communicate with it from an authentic, open heart space. The key here is honesty with oneself and uninhibited self expression.

Being such an individualistic life path, in Number 1 there is a level of solitary, internal work that always needs to be done, even if it’s performed in response to someone else’s advice or support. The struggle here is mostly internal, as it is a constant battle of being able to have clarity of vision, a fight for how things “should be” and a challenge of embracing how things actually are. As they grow older, Life Path 1s gain understanding, that most of the guidelines they lived by are false mechanisms, adopted from an early environment that was constantly trying to constrict their internal growth. When they mature, they let these restrictions go, and unapologetically follow the calling of their soul.

The path of being a pioneer is an uncharted territory, a battle through obstacles, that does however bring an ultimate victory, if one embraces the challenges and powers through them. All pioneers are call madmen, before they are called geniuses.

[tessiete]

For the Spotify fanfic ficlet: 12 for the Kenobi-Kryze fam? 🥺

@lightasthesun so here’s the deal. I STRUGGLED with this. Because I wanted to give you happy, fun, fluffy times, and there are some real bangers on my Wrapped. I mean, relative bangers.

But you picked probably the most Obitine-angst appropriate song ever, and I was like......oh, no. I can’t - I can’t do that to them.

So, after several days of thinking about it, we came up with this. It’s...I refuse to call it angst, bc everyone is alive, and well. It’s just like, some family fun times. Thanks, especially to the Obitine discord, and @duchess-of-mandalore @mg024 and Finn!

And anyway, I hope you love it! Thank you so much for the challenge! <3

Prompt: The Chain (Ingrid Michaelson)

THE CHAIN

The sky over Capital City is grey, and tremulous when they arrive on Coruscant. A natural storm had surged over the breakers of the planet’s ancient atmo regulators to sound its rage and fury out above the city. It’s rare, but not unheard of, and though some might take it as an ill omen, Satine thinks it a fair reflection of the twisting winds within her breast. Rain falls in great, heavy drops, lashing its grief across the transparisteel viewports as they break through the clouds. Thunder cracks, righteous and defiant. Lightning fractures the plate of the sky, reaching out with jealous fingers to touch the earth. Korkie has slept through it all, but Satine doesn’t want to miss any moment more than she must.

They hit the pad with the sudden jolt of gravity reasserting itself, the locking clamps securing them in place. She feels each shudder of the ship echoing in her bones, the soft satyn of her simple travelling gown like water over her skin. Every contrast feels sharp, and malicious. She takes Korkie’s small hand in her larger one, and together they wait for the ramp to lower, releasing them into the wilds outside.

And they are met.

Across the platform, standing silent in the downpour, is Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Though her vision blurs, and renders his face unreadable, she can see the straight line of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his chin, and the defiant stance of his feet spread wide. His hands are hidden in the fold of his cloak, and at his back are Masters Windu and Jinn.

At Satine’s back is the black maw of the ship, and the wind whistling through it. Korkie laughs, and she looks away from the Jedi to see her son, hands out, catching rain. 

“It’s wet! Belli, look!” he says, showing her his hand, shining in the grey light. “The sky is crying!”

Satine feels the rain coursing over her own face, and smiles in recognition of his delight.

“It is,” she says. “Happy tears, of course. Coruscant is glad to meet you, kih'kairkiyc.”

He grins at her, and she squeezes his hand, and together they cross the narrow bridge from the ship’s dock to the reception platform where they are met by Obi-Wan. He steps forward, and bows, deep, and formal.

“Duchess,” he says. His voice does not waver, but lies flat, and orderly in the space between them. 

He is much the same as she remembers, though his hair is longer, and his braid is cut. A beard has grown in, at long last, though she does not like how it covers his mouth, and hides half his face, and she longs to reach out and wipe it away so she might be able to read him again, like she used to. But there is more than an arm’s length between them, so instead, she nods her head in acknowledgement.

“Knight Kenobi,” she says, like glass, clean and showing nothing of itself.

Korkie tugs at her hand, and she pulls him forward to introduce him next. His fingers linger at the tips of hers as she lets him go. He takes a step. He takes a breath, and just as they’d practiced, he bows with his hands clasped before him, until his back is level with the floor.

“How do you do, Knight Kenobi?” Then, in succession, “Master Windu. Master Jinn.”

The three Jedi return the gesture. Master Windu is tense, and wary of her, she can tell, still unconvinced of the wisdom in this. Obi-Wan’s eyes are fixed on her, but Qui-Gon Jinn smiles at the boy, and Korkie stumbles back until he falls against his mother’s stomach, his hand reaching out to fist in the fabric of her gown to steady himself.

“Hello Korkie,” the old Jedi greets. His voice is soft, like birdwatchers in Keldabe before. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Obi-Wan is pulled from his study of the past by this reminder of their present company. His hands drop, and he shifts, leaning towards her, his head ducked and uncertain.

“I apologise for the weather,” he says. “I would have - if there had been any indication of inclemence such as this, I would have suggested somewhere with a roof.”

“Of course,” Satine says, too quickly. Then, bridling herself, she continues. “Coruscant is usually such a civilised, and well-behaved planet, it could not have been foreseen.”

There is the promise of forgiveness at the end of her declaration, which Obi-Wan accepts with relief, and they smile at each other. It is brief, and carried more in their eyes, than in their mouths or hands, but it is there nonetheless.

“And you, Master Korkie,” says Qui-Gon, with a smirk of his own. “Are you more civilised, and well-behaved than you appear at first glance?”

He gestures to Korkies rumpled tunic, and mussed hair which sticks up in wild tussocks like knots of grass.

“Someone was rather exhausted by our journey,” says Satine, fondly. “He fell asleep just past Corsin.”

“It was rather a long flight,” says Korkie, in his own defence. “And I don’t much like flying. Lightspeed always feels funny.”

At this, Qui-Gon kneels to meet Korkie on his level, and speaks as if he is confessing some great secret.

“Do you know,” he says, “That Knight Kenobi also dislikes flying.”

Korkie throws a wondering glance at Obi-Wan, who shifts beneath the scrutiny.

“Truly?” he asks Qui-Gon.

The Jedi nods. “Yes, truly. Only he stays awake the whole time.”

“Why?”

“I think in order to complain,” says Qui-Gon. “He needs to be sure that I am equally as miserable as he is, otherwise he feels lonely for company. But it does make for a very long trip, from my point of view.”

“That’s silly, Knight Kenobi,” declares Korkie. He turns to address Obi-Wan directly, and though he speaks critically, his brow is lifted, and his eyes wide in an earnest desire to ease the knight’s discomfort. “It’s much better if you sleep,” he says, with all the wisdom of a moment. “The time goes by much faster.”

Obi-Wan is forced to accept his master’s censure with grace as to spare the gentle feelings of an innocent child, so he smiles, and bows to acknowledge the boy.

“As you say, Master Kryze. You are probably right.”

“I know I am,” Korkie says. “Even though I do look a little wild in the end. But I feel tidy. So I suppose it’s just a matter of which part of me you look at.”

With a rumble that starts deep in his belly, then tumbles out like thunder, Qui-Gon Jinn laughs.

“A man after my own heart,” he says, giving Korkie a little clap on the shoulder. “I foresee you will become a great Jedi, Kiorkicek Kryze.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Duchess, Obi-Wan,” says Master Windu, stepping between the parties, “But as this rain doesn’t look to be letting up any time soon, may I suggest we complete the investiture ceremony somewhere a little drier?”

He levels Obi-Wan with a challenging glance, but its severity is diminished somewhat by his own bedraggled state. Despite their equal exposure, the rain has somehow managed to do more damage to Mace Windu’s composure than any of the others. Perhaps because he is more conscious of his position, and his dignity than the other two, Qui-Gon being rather untroubled by such pretensions, and Obi-Wan still humbled and distracted by the circumstances in which he’s come face to face with the unquiet ghosts of his past. Both of them wear the rain with ease, but Mace has struggled, unable to convince himself of the need to shield himself, but conscious of the desire. His cloak is patchy with damp, and the top of his head reflects the sky, the water washing his face, and dripping from his lips and chin. It is clear that Obi-Wan feels this indignity on his superior’s behalf, but Satine fights laughter at the spectacle.

“I think that would be wise, Master Windu,” she says, her voice tripping and sparking with barely repressed delight.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, with a shallow bow. And then he says, “There is an air car waiting.”

And Satine feels her stomach drop.

She meets Obi-Wan’s eye over Mace’s shoulder. His gaze is steady, and somber and as he makes his answer to the master’s request, and she can hear farewell in the heaviness of his voice.

“Yes, Master Windu,” he says. “Satine, I’m sorry we must be so brief, but I -” and he stands gaping, and voiceless for a moment.

The tight knuckle of sickness twists in her gut, scraping across the raw nerves of the underside of her skin, buckling muscles, and shifting against her bones, but she swallows the nausea back, and saves Obi-Wan from the inexorable void of silence.

“Do not apologise, Obi-Wan,” she says. “These things cannot be helped. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps the sting will be less.”

“Like a plaster,” he says, numbly.

And she agrees. “Just like.”

Master Jinn’s rises from his crouch, leaving his hands to ghost over Korkie’s shoulders, his hand still wrapped in her own, and Obi-Wan still staring at her, still drowning in the rain. Master Windu is merciful then, and bows out his leave taking.

“I’ll prepare the car,” he says.

“Thank you, Mace,” says Qui-Gon, when no one says anything else, and Master Windu leaves them to say goodbye. 

But still, no one moves. Silence falls, a fragile, lacework thing, too delicate to touch with the clumsy fingers of speech. They remain suspended in its web for an age, until Qui-Gon braves what the others cannot fathom, and speaks again.

“Obi-Wan,” he says, stepping away from Korkie to reach for his own grown padawan. “A word.”

He draws him aside, turning away, turning their backs to Satine and Korkie, and speaking quietly in Obi-Wan’s ear, an arm about his shoulders, and drawing him close in private assignation. At another time, she might feel ostracised and othered by this, but now, she is grateful. It is she who is with Korkie, and the Jedi who must stand apart.

She kneels to face her son, heedless of her skirt, of the thin satyn and how it catches at the rough duracrete, pulling taut, maybe tearing beneath the pressure of her knees. She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: herself, and her son, and the rain washing away the things between them.

“I don’t want to go,” says Korkie, and she grips his hands tighter than before.

“You must,” she says. “You must. You are going to be a wonderful Jedi Knight. Just think of that.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I know I said before, but I changed my mind. I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, kih'kairkiyc,” she replies, her tongue growing thick with a truth she hates to speak. “Remember? We talked about this. It’s dangerous. But you will be safe here. Knight Kenobi will protect you.”

“But who will protect you if I’m not there?”

“Oh, many people, Kiorkicek,” she says. “A whole court of people. All the people. The people of Mandalore will be my strength, and they will take very good care of me while you’re away, and one day, when you come home, they will be glad to meet you again, and so will I.”

“Do you promise?” he asks. “You won’t forget me? Even if I’m gone for a very long time?”

“Even if you were gone for almost as long as forever, I would never forget you, Kiorkicek Kryze. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad. Ratiin.”

“Ratiin,” he repeats. “Always, and always.”

“Yes,” she avows. “Now, do you remember what I told you?”

“To wash my face, and brush my teeth every day, even if I’m very sleepy.”

And she laughs, pulling him close to her breast, and tucking his head beneath her chin.

“Yes,” she says. “That is very important, but what else?”

“To listen to the masters, and study hard, and show respect, and try my best, and to always, always be very kind to Knight Kenobi, because he isn’t always very kind to himself.”

“Yes,” she whispers. She presses a kiss to his hair, and combs it as flat as she can. “That last part, most especially, kih'kairkiyc. Look after each other. For me.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Belli.”

“Bal Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, balyc.”

“Satine?” The call is Obi-Wan’s and she looks up from the cradle of her embrace, and her son within it to see him standing cautious, and concerned a few paces away. “It’s time to go.” 

“Of course,” she says. She stands. She takes Korkie’s hand, nestled in her own, and places it in Obi-Wan’s. For a moment, the three of them are one, together, and then…

She lets go.

“Goodbye, my Kiorkicek,” she says. “Remember what I told you. Kote, ijaa, aliit. Ratiin.”

He nods, and she can see his grip tighten on Obi-Wan’s hand, fierce determination rising in the face of her expectations. It is Obi-Wan who falters.

“Satine, I -” he shakes his head. His eyes match the storm. “I will do my best by him, I swear. I will not fail you. I will not.”

“I know,” she says, steady where he is not. “I would not give him up to another. None but you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Gar ratiin ru’kar'taylir. Be gentle with it.”

He nods. There is nothing else to say, and they’ve always been terrible at goodbye. She smiles at Korkie one last time, and he points at the sky.

“Happy tears,” he says, and grins, wiping the salty streaks from his own face.

And with that, he tugs on Obi-Wan’s hand, and leads him off towards the distant figure of Mace Windu, and the air car waiting patiently to take them home.

But Satine is not alone.

Qui-Gon Jinn steps close, until she can feel his shoulder jut up against her own, the warmth of his body breaching the barricade of wet clothes, to soothe her own chapped skin, and she shivers against him.

For a moment, they say nothing, just watching as Obi-Wan turns to Korkie, and Korkie to Obi-Wan, chatting animatedly, his free hand swooping through the air. She imagines he must be telling him of their departure from Mandalore, and the world he left behind, and she hopes that selfishly, she might be included in as many of these stories as he thinks to tell, because he is in all of hers. Qui-Gon chuckles beside her.

“Fast friends, already,” he says.

“Forgotten just as fast,” she whispers, nearly losing the words to the storm. But Qui-Gon is listening closely.

“Never that,” he says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she yields like water, dropping her head to his shoulder, and weeping into the crook of his neck.

“I thought I was ready,” she says, hitching breaths to match the shifting winds. “But it has come too soon.”

She feels his chin press against her skull, and though it isn’t exactly comfortable, there is comfort in the angles of his affection, and she leans closer to him, until her arms sneak beneath the wet folds of his outer robe, and wrap around his waist. She clings there, as though she might blow away. This is familiar, though it is an old, old memory, now. She was once a girl, before she was a Duchess, and Qui-Gon Jinn was once to her the very thing her father could not be. She was bereaved, but never lost, and there were many nights that Qui-Gon held her while she wept just like this. It is easy to reach for him, now. It is easy to look back.

“You are never ready,” he says, his voice vibrating so near to her ear it is as though he speaks to her from within her own mind. “But he is not going very far. He is with his family. He is with his father. You are not losing him to the wilderness.”

“No,” she says. “Only to the Force.”

He does not chide her for the bitterness upon her tongue.

His own words remain gentle, and soothing, and he rocks her in his arms, as they watch the matched set of their hearts walk away.

“Then I have lost my own heart twice,” he says. “First to the Force, and then to you. But people always come back, in one way or another. No one is gone forever.”

And as they reach the car, as though he hears their call from across a vast, unending night, and over the wind and roar of the storm, Obi-Wan looks back, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“Oh, look,” he says, as the knight turns once more to his son. “There he goes again.”

Satine buries her face in Qui-Gon’s arms, and though she doesn’t feel at peace, for a moment, she feels like she has come home.

[willgrahymn]

Crushing Fear

wow can you believe I’m posting one of my fics on tumblr? me neither.

Tags: prinxiety, love confessions, some point close after FWSA, flower language, some swearing, and light angst but mostly fluff (oh and I throw shade at Janus).

Summary: Virgil didn't even remember how long he had spent repressing his dumb crush, but with Thomas falling in love, it felt harder to ignore the feelings welling up in his chest. All he knew was that he couldn't admit it out loud. Luckily for him, Roman was a romantic who couldn't stand to let a chance at love go uninvited, even if he didn't always feel deserving of it. 

Word count: 3334

I’ll reblog with ao3 link since I know tumblr is dumb about it :)

There were a lot of things Virgil loved about Roman. He loved the way Roman would push back his hair whenever he caught a glimpse of himself or felt nervous and he loved the way it always fell in his face again. He loved the way his eyes lit up when Virgil asked about a show or a musical he knew the prince liked. To be honest, it was hard to think of something he didn't love. Even things he once thought were annoying had become endearing to him.

It didn’t matter. He had a reputation to at least try to maintain, he’d already gone so damn soft around the others since the light sides and Thomas came to get him back and Roman made that sweet little speech in the darkness of his room.

“You make us better.” It was like a song he played on repeat. At the time, Roman was the last person he expected to convince him that this could be his home – his family – but somehow he did. He may have been a jerk early on, but maybe, Virgil thought, he really was a knight in shining armor. Roman was more like him than he once thought; using fake confidence to cover up insecurities was nothing new.

And now, years later, here he was lying in bed like a yearning gay fool with music that wasn’t loud enough to block out his thoughts. He figured his little crush would be something that he could just hide away until it wasn’t even there. That plan was failing horribly though, especially when Roman could steal his breath by just looking at him. He didn't know how to handle feelings that felt bigger than himself.

Would it be smart to try something now? Probably not. What would he even do? Roman always talked of big, grand gestures that could literally and figuratively sweep one off their feet. Virgil didn’t consider himself good at plenty of things, and wooing someone like he was in a movie happened to be on the list. The farthest he'd gotten with confrontation was making Thomas talk to Nico, all because he couldn't stand to see Roman so heartbroken. He could feel the darkness below his eyes lighten to that embarrassingly glittery purple at the memory of how proud Roman was.

But Roman was Creativity and had his own little kingdom in the imagination. Virgil was sure that if he wanted a boyfriend he could just make the man of his dreams who would do anything and everything for him without the slightest hesitation. It seemed existence wasn’t fair like that.

He could just barely hear a knock sounding at the door, Virgil's eyes immediately darting over to where the sound had come. He debated whether or not he should respond. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like his friends, but his same old avoidant tendencies from before never went away.

“Virgil?” Roman asked. His voice making Virgil freeze and want to melt away at the same time. “Are you awake?”

Fuck, shit, some other words Patton would disapprove of. What time was it? 1:30? He couldn’t blame Roman for assuming he was still out, especially since it was the truth not too long ago. He almost felt sorry for his sleep schedule, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter how hard Logan tried to help he always found himself digging through the kitchen at 5 in the morning, and not because he was an early riser. He paused his music, hanging his headphones on his headboard. Listening to Sally’s Song for the 17th time could wait for later.

He heard Roman laugh, and it felt like roses.

“That’s alright. If anyone here knows anything about beauty sleep, it’s me. The glasses gays are insisting that I awaken the beast though, so you better at least have something on before I barge in.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if Roman was talking to himself or knew he was being heard. He just burrowed deeper under his covers. He didn't want Roman to find him awake and think he was ignoring him, even if it was kind of the truth.

The door creaked. It sounded like something from a shitty horror movie. The heavy footsteps didn’t make it any more calming either. Roman was never this quiet. He refused to open his eyes, even as his blanket was pulled away from his face. He couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as he felt cool air shock his skin.

“Awh, c’mon! I’m the actor here. Your eyes were closed too tight, for one thing,”

Virgil sighed, opening his eyes and squinting at the light. “I thought you were here to wake me up, not give me acting lessons.”

“Good morning to you too, Mourning Glory. It’s not my fault if you want to hide away all day, I’m just giving tips on being more realistic.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his lip to resist smiling. Wanting to stay calm as if he knew what he was doing.

“You’ve teased me about being a vampire before. Can’t I play the part?”

“Oh, trust me, you’re perfect for the role. Sadly for you, there are two very insistent Sides saying you have to be a real functioning part of the mind, so unless you want me to carry you out there and make a whole scene, you better come down on your own.”

Virgil sighed, rolling onto his back as his eyes adjusted to the light. The two stared at each other. Testing each other. Not getting out of bed never sounded more tempting.

He gave in, rambling. “Sure, okay, whatever.” He sighed, reaching out and taking hold of Roman’s hand, letting the prince pull him upright. Whether it was he or Roman who ended up bringing them so close was something he could stay up late thinking about later. Now wasn’t the time to focus on rough palms or scarred skin that he once bandaged up while cursing out the ever-so-reckless Roman for sneaking out on quests, leaving Virgil to hunt him down with nothing but adrenaline and a certain level of knowingness in his dread.

He tried to bite back a yawn. His eyes widening at the warm feeling of a hand pressed to his face, of a thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. It wasn’t unwelcome, to be honest, he could probably fall back asleep just like this. He’d be okay waking up every morning if they were like this. If the romantic side offered it. If Virgil would allow himself to accept and experience it.

“How long have you been up?”

“Anywhere between 20 minutes to 2 hours. I don’t really know.”

Roman smiled, betraying the worried look in his eyes. It was probably just the effect of his room, that’s what Virgil hoped it was anyway. He tried not to show any disappointment when Roman’s hand fell to the bed.

“I’ll be down in a few,” Virgil continued, “just let me take care of my makeup first.”

Roman’s eyes trailed him as he got up and moved over towards his desk in the corner of the room, flicking on the light as he went by. Why is he fucking staring?

“While I’m here, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a quest this evening? Or maybe we could throw a ball for the mind palace? I know it’s not your thing, but I thought it might be fun? Or y’know, something else more low-key.”

“Uh, yeah you know I’m not big on big things,” Virgil replied, looking over to the prince picking at a loose thread on the cuffs of his sleeves. “You know if you want to hang out you can just ask, you don't need some extravagant event going on to get me alone with you.”

Roman nodded, not seeming any calmer than before. Virgil's brows furrowed, worries flowed through him as if it were his blood. He didn't want to make Roman talk if he didn't want to, but god was it nerve-racking.

At the very least, it seemed like he wouldn't be putting on any more black eyeshadow to try and hide its changes.

Roman, on the other hand, decided not to question why the Side no longer seemed interested in putting his makeup on, and being grateful for the fact Virgil took advantage of the fact they could conjure themselves into different outfits rather than changing right then and there.

The two stayed there, an awkward silence taking over the room before a crash sounded from the living room.

“We should probably go.”

Virgil simply nodded, pulling his jacket tighter around as he followed Roman out of the room.

Luckily, the crash had only come from Patton knocking over a stack of DVDs, CDs, and a few other things. Another lost-glasses incident. It was a miracle nothing got broken.

The day itself would have felt completely normal if not for the fact Roman kept looking at him. Starting off as unsure as they did in his room, and slowly brightening like he had finally figured out a plothole in one of his stories. It was even more unsettling when he realized Roman was no longer there, vanished off to do god knows what.

So Virgil spent the next couple of hours trying to ignore the feeling of his fears eating him from the inside out like a moth to a sweater. He wouldn’t mind the holes if they didn’t leave him so uncomfortable. But then again, maybe that was fitting for his aesthetic. Torn-up shirts and jeans to pair with his torn-up emotions. At least he found solace in the darkness of his outfits.

It didn’t take long to get bored of the mundane mind palace.

Maybe I should take Roman up on that quest idea. He thought, his foot bounced, hanging over the side of the couch. Even if it wasn’t in his list of Shit Virgil Can Do Without Fucking Up, it was better than sitting around and waiting for nothing.

Virgil got up silently, giving a quick two-finger salute to Logan who had started reading some new detective novel before he sunk out. Appearing again before Roman’s door. Maybe he was just self-conscious, but it looked bigger than it was. Like behind it would be some hidden treasure that he finally reached.

It wasn’t entirely wrong. Roman was certainly someone to be treasured, even if he made mistakes. He just wished the other Sides would help him understand it.

He held his breath as he knocked, jolting back when it swung open almost instantly.

“You’re here!” Roman exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.

“Uh, yeah. I thought I’d take you up on your offer from earlier… if it’s still up, anyway.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally!” The prince tugged at his collar, not making eye contact. Virgil couldn’t help but smile slightly at the prince's giddiness. “I was just working on something if you’d care to see it?”

“You know I wanna see whatever you come up with, even if it’s some rewrite of Frozen.”

Roman bounced again, holding his hands out, palms up. He looked at Virgil with an emotion he couldn’t name, but it made him feel anxious in a good kind of way. Not anything like the dread he was used to. He placed his hands on Roman’s, and it wasn’t till they were sinking out and into the imagination that he realized it was the same kind of feeling from when Nico first texted Thomas about meeting up again. He held Roman’s hands a little tighter.

When he opened his eyes, they were surrounded by flowers.

“Woah…”

“Do you like it? I had to sneak into Logan’s room and borrow a few of his books.”

“I– yeah. It’s beautiful. And don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” He stepped away, wandering the circular little garden. He could only recognize so many. “Didn’t know you had a thing for landscaping.”

“I try my best. Honestly, I’m just happy neither of us has allergies.”

“Gosh, you’re such a dork.” Virgil laughed, petting the petals of a rose. Not paying attention to the way Roman watched him and shifted his weight every so often nor how warm his cheeks had become. “Do you know what any of them mean?”

“I do, but I think if I tell you, you’ll realize how predictable I am.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, roses are pretty well known. The red ones are anyway. Love, passion, romance, and courage. Things like that.” Roman said, walking closer. His boots clicking against the walkway’s pavement.

He stood close by yet just far enough for Virgil not to feel like he was being dissected under his gaze. It was an unreasonable thing to think after all the time they had spent becoming friends, he knew that. Yet part of him continued to scream that one day Roman would look at him and find out how horrible he thought himself to be and never want to be around him again. Maybe that was why he refused to confess just how much he liked Roman. It was a weight that crushed his chest every day yet made him feel dizzyingly light.

It was all too complicated.

“What about the purple ones?”

“It kind of varies by shade, but most of the time it’s about love at first sight or enchantment. A lot of the flowers here have to do with that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, should’ve been able to figure that one out myself.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s no matter, I just want to make sure you understand what they mean.” He looked to Virgil, again with that unnamed emotion. “You do get what I’m trying to say, right?”

For a moment, he hoped he did.

“Uh, yeah? Princey, I get it, you’re a hopeless romantic. You don’t have to spell it out for me.” He bit the inside of his lip, then asked. “What are they for?”

Roman looked at him with what he could only see as sympathy.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I really do think you need it spelled out.”

Virgil scoffed, going to argue before he was cut off.

“First,” Roman began, reaching for Virgil’s hand, “You take him by the hand. That’s as far as you got before we both started screaming, anyway. So I suppose I’ll just have to wing it from here. I know I haven’t always been the best to you. I know I still make mistakes, and I really don’t want this to be one of them.”

“Roman–”

“I’m not finished. Virgil, out of all the other’s, you’re always the one who notices when I’m upset. You’re always the one who lets me bitch about Deceit without saying I was wrong for trusting him and then wrong for not. Really, you’re the only one I can bitch about the dark sides to, period. Logan is so reserved about it, and Patton is, well, he’s Patton. He tries to see the good in everyone.”

Roman paused, catching his breath. Virgil thought it best not to speak. He didn’t think he’d even be able to if he wanted.

“What I’m getting is that I trust you. I trust you because you’re my best friend and you listen to what I say even if it’s dumb. Because when I don’t feel like talking you're always down to just watch classic Disney movies and fill in coloring books. I know you don't realize it, but you do a hell of a lot more good than you believe, and I love you for that. You don’t have to say it back or even feel the same, I know you’re pretty reluctant about it. I just need you to know.”

Virgil stared at him, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of love. Roman had said ‘I love you’ before, but not like this. What the fuck do you even do when your crush confesses they like you, more so, that you aren’t obligated to like them back? Complicated, and now surreal.

“You really mean it? All of it??”

“Of course I do, my Columbine Cutie! I could never lie to someone about love, I hope you know that.” Roman replied. Waving his hand as he conjured a mix of red and purple columbines, tucking them gently behind Virgil’s ear. Both knowing it was the truth, that Roman wouldn’t subject someone to such a thing because he knew how it felt.

But he still trusted Virgil with his love all the same. Trusted that it wouldn’t be taken advantage of or used against him.

“How long have you known?”

“You know, I think I fell for you far before I knew it.”

Virgil huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I uh… I think it was the same for me. Falling for you, that is.” God, it felt so weird to say it. Good, too. “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say. I never thought I’d end up here. I care about you too. I love you, I mean.”

And Roman… Roman just started to beam, shining like the sun as Virgil tripped over his words. He bounced, hands waving as he did. Despite his lingering fear, Virgil couldn’t stop the excitement Roman radiated and the wonder of it all from seeping in under his skin, a feeling like vibrations that he could only try to shake out. And there were hands cupping his face and there were words he didn’t hear. He still knew what they asked. “Fucking yes.” was all he could bring himself to give as a response before Roman’s lips were on his.

Strawberry chapstick and the faint scent of cherry blossom perfume were all that went through his head, it was the only thing that really could. He held onto Roman’s uniform like if he let go it would all disappear. Another dream reminding him of what he thought he couldn’t have.

When Roman pulled away and Virgil opened his eyes, he was still there.

He was real. Everything that had happened was real. He couldn’t help but giggle at how fantastical it was.

Roman brushed his bangs away, just enough to fully show his eyes. “Your eyeshadow changed again,” he announced, bouncing on his heels once again. Virgil groaned, turning away. “It’s a good look for you. Especially with how much you blush, my Lavender Love.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable.”

Virgil knew from the grin on Roman’s face that it had only intensified.

“Whatever. I just– for what it’s worth– I appreciate it. All of this. I’d probably die never telling you shit about how I felt if you didn’t do it first.”

Roman softened, “Maybe, or maybe you’d end up pushing yourself like you did to Thomas. Either way, I’m happy with it if you are.”

Virgil nodded, the two going silent. Roman rocked back and forth still quietly bouncing, probably thinking of what to say next.

Slowly, Virgil opened his arms, smiling nervously to his crush– lover– whatever they were. He wasn’t all that open to touch, but Roman was so far off from everything else it didn’t matter. The prince smiled, pulling Virgil close to him and pressing a kiss to his magenta-colored hair.

“I’m happy to be your knight as long as you want me to be. Whatever it is that gets thrown our way, I’ll fight for you as you have for me. You deserve to shine every day like you are now.”

“Jesus, Princey. You already made your dramatic love declaration, but... thank you. I want you to be happy too.”

The two held each other, and for the moment, everything was okay. No dark sides, no fear, no challenging life debates. It was unescapable, of course, but it didn’t matter. They could survive and fight this hell of a world. They could make the other realize how lovable they were. Because they had each other.

[princekoo]

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

    The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself.  The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that.  He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

   The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

[sssrha]

WangXian wouldn’t have been very functional pre-Wei Wuxian’s resurrection

So I was talking to @litescheme on Twitter and I decided to pour my heart out about how I hated the general fandom consensus that Wei Wuxian going to Gusu when Lan Wangji asked him to would have solved all of his problems, primarily because the idea of just straight up going to Gusu is incredibly flawed. Lo and behold, they agreed wholeheartedly. We had a great discussion and now I’m here to relay the discussion onto Tumblr in essay form uwu.

(By the way, this is based mostly on CQL with a good bit of novel added in, as well as a few hints of the donghua.)

Part One: “Come back to Gusu!” is a great romantic notion but a terrible plan of action.

First of all, one must ask the question: what on Earth was Lan Wangji’s game plan with the whole “Come back to Gusu!” thing? I think we can all agree that most of the Lan Sect hated Wei Wuxian - by the end, at least. Lan Xichen certainly had less than charitable feelings toward him. With such a hostile environment, the only way I can see Wei Wuxian surviving within the Sect is while being forced into a Madam Lan-type situation. I find that prospect more reminiscent of a horror movie than a heartwarming fic about healing.

Luckily for us, we can safely say that canon Lan Wangji would not have done that! Due to certain childhood trauma, Lan Wangji definitely would not have forced Wei Wuxian to do anything, go anywhere, or stay anywhere that he didn’t want to. That isn’t even touching on how much Lan Wangji genuinely wanted Wei Wuxian to be happy, and forcing Wei Wuxian to do anything had generally been proven to not make him happy. Good on him!

The next point: why would Wei Wuxian have gone to Gusu in the first place? Even while ignoring WangXian’s rampant misunderstandings, Wei Wuxian always actively had a reason to not go to Gusu. During the Sunshot Campaign, he was a major player and commanded a huge amount of power that probably aided the Sects greatly. During his stay in the Burial Mounds, he had a community of war prisoners to protect. How could he go to Gusu?

I’ve seen fics where Lan Wangji ensured the safety of the Wen Remnants, and while I absolutely adore the trope, I really don’t see that happening with canon Lan Wangji. First, I don’t think he’d grown as a person enough to fully rebel against his Sect until Wei Wuxian was in immediate danger, and second, I straight up don’t think that he had the sway to. Pulling that kind of stunt implies a good deal of political power within the Sect...and also implies that Lan Wangji would have had enough power to escape a punishment which he clearly never thought he deserved. However, I could be wrong on this point! Politics has never been my forte. 

Also, I don’t think anyone can bank on the Lan Sect accepting the Wen Remnants. After all, the Lan Sect participated in the First Siege of the Burial Mounds and thus, presumably, also the slaughter of the Wen Remnants.

Upon further reflection, I figured that the only time Wei Wuxian might have actually gone to Gusu was that brief period of time after the Sunshot Campaign and before he met Wen Qing. However, for him to agree, I figured that three things had to happen:

Wei Wuxian had to understand that Lan Wangji wanted to help him, not hurt him.

Wei Wuxian had to come to the (false!) conclusion that Jiang Cheng no longer needed his help or support at Lotus Pier.

Wei Wuxian had to accept that he was worth saving in the first place.

(The concept came pre-set with some delicious Yunmeng Bros angst because Jiang Cheng would almost certainly take Wei Wuxian (permanently) going to Gusu the same way he took Wei Wuxian taking the Wen Remnants to the Burial Mounds: a betrayal, a promise broken. Emotionally, of course. There definitely wouldn’t have been political pressure closing in from all sides the way there was in canon.)

I was going to expand on that concept, but then I hit a bit of a hurdle: I genuinely did not, and still do not, see any reason for Wei Wuxian to actually go to Gusu. At that point, Wei Wuxian was doing everything he felt he needed to: he protected Jiang Cheng because Madam Yu told him to (and because he genuinely cared for him, but Madam Yu’s command was his driving force) and he only left Jiang Cheng when Wen Qing - someone he perceived himself owing a greater debt to due to the golden core removal - came along. When looking at it from that regard, I don’t think Wei Wuxian would ever see a reason to go to Gusu.

So, even after clearing up the miscommunication, Lan Wangji would have to present a good reason for Wei Wuxian to listen to him. 

I don’t think Lan Wangji going up to Wei Wuxian and saying, “Please come back to Gusu, I want to protect you,” would have worked. Considering how prideful Wei Wuxian was back then - with a good bit of it justified when you consider the fact that he killed a large amount of people in a single night during the Pledge Conference (though the exact number is never actually confirmed as far as I remember) - I don’t see Wei Wuxian taking the implication that he needs protection very well. No matter how many good intentions Lan Wangji had, he would have ended up offending Wei Wuxian at that point.

Another route Lan Wangji could have taken: “Please come back to Gusu, I want to play Cleansing for you.” Again, I don’t think this would have worked. (At least, that was definitely his stance in CQL and Wei Wuxian still didn’t do anything.) In Chapter 78, Wei Wuxian mentioned that the Sound of Lucidity had no effect on him. The Sound of Lucidity is, presumably, one of the Song(s) of Clarity, of which Cleansing is the most powerful. Lan Wangji used the Sound of Lucidity at the Pledge Conference after the battle had started. I don’t exactly know why he didn’t use Cleansing when it was more powerful... Either way, after he played the Sound of Lucidity, Wei Wuxian said, “You should’ve known since long ago—Sound of Lucidity is useless to me!” Thus, Lan Wangji asking him to go to Gusu so he could play Cleansing probably wouldn’t have seemed like an especially compelling reason to Wei Wuxian.

After some thought, I figured that post-resurrection, Wei Wuxian agreed to stay with Lan Wangji in the Cloud Recesses after the mystery was solved because:

He was not as prideful as pre-death Wei Wuxian.

He saw no reason to go back to Lotus Pier since Jiang Cheng made it very clear that he was unhappy with him.

He managed to process and confess his feeling to Lan Wangji, who did the same.

Pre-death Wei Wuxian has none of this. Basically, Wei Wuxian at that point had no reason to go to Gusu for anything other than a short visit.

Now, I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but this entire time I’ve been ignoring not only the reality that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s relationship pre-death was...very bad, but also something else very important: the Stygian Tiger Seal. 

The Stygian Tiger Seal was, of course, stupidly powerful, and Wei Wuxian only kept it because it would take too much time and energy to destroy, and it was meant to deter anyone from attacking him since he already knew that so many people were against him. One of his main fears was someone else - someone with impure motives - getting their hands on it, so of course he was paranoid wondering who would try to steal it from him. Lan Wangji asking him to go to a place where Wei Wuxian would be surrounded by people who hated his form of cultivation? Yeah, that didn’t sound that great. 

(Also, can we please take a moment to appreciate this excerpt from the novel: “The Stygian Tiger Seal’s powers were considerably greater than what he had imagined. He originally wanted to use it to assist him, but its powers were almost exceeding him, its creator” (Chapter 30). Almost. He said the Seal was not as powerful as him! The Stygian Tiger Seal was, indeed, strong, but he was more so! I see a lot of fanfics paint the Stygian Tiger Seal as what made him so terrifying and...it was certainly a part of it, but he did most of it on his own! Ah, we love terrifying main characters~)

Now, I’ve acknowledged the existence of WangXian’s miscommunication, but I’ve never actually addressed it. So, here it is: I do not think Lan Wangji confessing to Wei Wuxian (even before his stint in the Burial Mounds after the Bloodbath at Nevernight) would have gone well. In Chapter 2, there is this excerpt: “Wei WuXian’s eyebrows twitched. Not only a lunatic, a homosexual lunatic as well.” This requires a bit of interpretation because it’s not exactly clear what Wei Wuxian’s eyebrow twitch means, but I’ve always interpreted it as annoyance - or even disgust - at the addition of “homosexual” to Mo Xuanyu’s profile. I’m not saying that Wei Wuxian was necessarily homophobic before the entire events of the novel, but I sincerely don’t think Wei Wuxian would have appreciated Lan Wangji - or any other man, for that matter - confessing to him. If even (immediate) post-resurrection Wei Wuxian had that attitude, I can imagine what would have gone through pre-death Wei Wuxian’s head. 

So, Sunshot Campaign, post-Sunshot Campaign, and Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian would all definitely not go back to Gusu, nor would they appreciate a confession from Lan Wangji. That leaves the question: what about pre-Sunshot Campaign Wei Wuxian?

Part Two: Why I really don’t think WangXian would have worked out pre-Sunshot Campaign.

From here on out, “Wei Ying, come back to Gusu!” is no longer relevant because, well, Lan Wangji never said it before the meeting in the supervisory office. (And I think I’ve made my point regarding that as well as I could.)

Starting with Cloud Recesses-era Wei Wuxian...I think that, out of all the different versions of Wei Wuxian, he would have been the one of the two most-likely to get together with Lan Wangji (pre-resurrection, of course). Even then, I don’t see that high a likelihood of that actually happening. Why? Repression! Fuck both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were so deeply repressed at that point! Lan Wangji was obviously more aware of his feelings, and Wei Wuxian...I don’t know, I haven’t read the novel far enough to actually have this be a legitimate interpretation, but looking at CQL, I don’t really think Wei Wuxian was in love with Lan Wangji at that point (but I don’t have much evidence to back that up other than my a-spec radar...).

And even if they did somehow manage to overcome their repression - and actually both had feelings for each other in the first place - they were still teenagers! Fifteen at the beginning, I’m pretty sure, and fifteen-year-olds are decidedly bad at maintaining any sort of relationship. That doesn’t even touch on the fact that WangXian was probably legitimately incompatible at that point. Lan Wangji still lived and breathed the rules and Wei Wuxian didn’t give a fuck about them. To maintain any sort of long-term relationship, they’d have to simultaneously undergo a whole novel of character development...which is doable! But! I don’t exactly see it as plausible.

Then, of course, Wei Wuxian got kicked out of the Cloud Recesses and WangXian didn’t see each other until two years later, at the Discussion Conference in Qishan. I don’t really see long-distance relationships working out very well in ancient China, so I can’t imagine them properly maintaining their relationship throughout that. And, of course, Lan Wangji’s rage after Wei Wuxian pulls his forehead ribbon was also due to his repression. Considering how short the Discussion Conference seemed to be, I don’t think there was much room for a relationship to develop. 

At the Indoctrination Camp, Lan Wangji had a whole swarm of things to worry about other than his (frankly painful) pining for Wei Wuxian so, again, I don’t see a romantic relationship developing at that point in time. 

A time-frame that I think can be uniquely isolated as a very possible place to develop their relationship would be while they were trapped in the cave with the Tortoise of Slaughter. Mostly before they killed the beast, though, since afterward, Wei Wuxian had too much of a fever for any romantic shenaniganry. My reasoning is that the cave was the first time since Wei Wuxian’s punishment in the Cloud Recesses that the two of them were forced to spend a long stretch of time together, and thus could potentially open up to each other. I remember in the anime that Lan Wangji sheds a few tears as he mentions that the Cloud Recesses had burned, that his brother was missing, and that his father was...dead? Severely injured? One of those two. He was back in business-mode pretty soon afterward, but if Lan Wangji could have been persuaded to open up a bit more by an persistent and concerned Wei Wuxian, I can see a slow confession being teased out of him - there was certainly enough time!

Then again, them getting together would only happen if Wei Wuxian were both comfortable with the idea of gay men and willing to accept that he was, in fact, attracted to Lan Wangji, and if Lan Wangji were willing to let go of the rules enough to be comfortable with Wei Wuxian’s naturally rebellious nature.

After that, WangXian doesn’t meet again until the supervisory office, and I’ve already talked about all of that.

In conclusion, “Come back to Gusu!” was sweet but misguided and WangXian wouldn’t have effectively happened pre-resurrection.

Now, what does that mean for you? ...Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. This doesn’t mean I’m forsaking all fics where WangXian gets together pre-resurrection (in fact, I absolutely love them!) and I’m definitely not trying to say that my interpretation is the only right one. I’m not trying to police what everyone thinks and decree that all fics where Wei Wuxian is open about liking men are wrong or any crap like that. Those fics are great and I love them! These are my (and @litescheme’s) thoughts on the matter that I (we) wanted to spill out into the greater world! You can agree, you can disagree, you can ignore me (us) entirely! But if you read through this meta, then I’m assuming that you found the concept interesting. That is all I was going for!

(Well, that and trying to thoroughly debunk the notion that Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian getting shoved into seclusion in the Jingshi by an apologetic Lan Wangji would be in any way “healing” or even “good” for Wei Wuxian, because honestly? Fuck that.)

Ahh, thanks for reading!

[flying-elliska]

Skam France Season 6 Review

It’s that time, I guess. My feelings are, like many, mixed. I think I enjoyed the season more than most people here, but the ending was a massive let down. Overall it boils down to this : Skam France is great at moments and very bad at structure. A lot of my issues with the season is what is not in it. I saw so much potential that never quite materialized, and it left me frustrated. At the same time, Lola is a really cool character, her arc is really interesting, her relationship with her sister is one of the best things they’ve ever done, and the actors killed it. Loved La Mif, discovering other sides of Eliott, the urbex backgrounds, and Maya. A lot of fascinating character moments. This is definitely my second favorite season after s3 - at times I even thought it would equal it. Sadly, though, Skam France will remain a bit of a one hit wonder for me. Because they are so good at bringing up problems in a nuanced layering way - be it addiction, grief, eating disorders, internalized ableism, racist microagressions - but when it comes to resolving what they brought up, they default towards a ‘let’s all be nice to each other, hug or kiss, love saves the day yay !’ story. Which is, when you claim to deal with real world issues, simplistic, immature, and at times quite offensive. It works for s3, which is at its core a tale of self-discovery, self-acceptance and romance. But niceness doesn’t solve racism, and family problems aren’t solved with a hug, and addiction recovery doesn’t hinge on having someone to kiss, and the series came dangerously close to implying that at times. 

All in all, this is a show that often manages to be both brilliant and terrible at the same time. At least it’s not dull. 

Positives/Negatives/Meh breakdown :

Positives :

- Sisterly love : My favorite thing without a doubt is the relationship between Lola and Daphné. Flavie and Lula killed it. Almost all the clips that made me cry were the ones with the both of them in it. At the beginning their rivalry is so relatable to me : the responsible sibling who takes on too much burdens and is too controlling and parentified vs. the problem sibling who acts out to express the issues the rest of the family are repressing - i have been in both of those spots. you can see how they slowly realize that the gap between them didn’t need to be there, that it wasn’t their fault, that it was the result of their parent’s bullshit and even shittier circumstances. seeing them make little gestures to recognize each other’s pain, to nurture each other, to give each other support, but also to tell each other some unpleasant truths, was so incredibly powerful. Relationships between sisters can be just so...complex, and loving, and petty, and jealous, and supportive, and feral, and annoying, and understanding, and ugh, they made me feel all of that and more. I have a sister, and I have a relationship like that with her, and this season gave me some very important perspectives. Really, relationships between women aren’t explored enough, and this season really did this one thing excellently and if only for that, it deserves to be watched. That moment where Lola talks to Daphné about her self destructive tendencies...so important. I am so happy that Daphné was the one finding Lola in her tower of solitude, and the moment where she says ‘you pay too much attention to what other people think, Lola’ was the emotional turning point of the season for me, because it was Daphné recognizing Lola really cared behind her mask of coldness, but also that she was hurt by that and that she needed to love herself regardless of the love her parents didn’t give her ; and also that she heard Lola saying it to her and that it inspired her too, so there is this amazing reciprocity. It was so powerful, I’m still reeling from it. And it was a beautiful full circle from the beginning of the season. 

- Family of outsiders : the urbex gang was such a wonderful new group this season. It was bound to be tricky getting us to like this new generation, and I think they did a pretty good job. Even tho I wish we got to know them a bit more, they were all intriguing and interesting on their own, and the vibes of Lamif as a whole were just so fun and lovely. Loved the neuroatypical vibes I got from Sekou and Jo. Love that they introduced a trans guy character. Loved Maya as group mom. And seeing them warm up to Lola was really sweet. The social media of them hanging out was more or less the only good social media we got this season lmao. The urbex thing was a great symbol for Lola finding a home with the outcasts, a bit on the fringe of society, and the start of acceptance, of bringing her in from the cold. Maya and Lola’s relationship fit in that really nicely, especially the bits about them talking about their shared experiences of grief, and my favorite scenes with them is showing Lola that her scars can be beautiful and that her rough experiences are part of who she is. The way she didn’t take Lola’s bullshit was great, and even tho I think their relationship was rushed, overall they really fit well together. Love Maya’s character as a concept in general, this funky purple haired lesbian environmentalist with amazing sense of style, and I really hope we see her again in upcoming seasons. And finally, I also really liked Eliott and Lola’s friendship (except for the ending) - the fact that they understand this darkness that they share, but that Eliott has succeded in climbing over it, and so he can give Lola support, understanding, guidance. I loved that we got to hear a bit more of his perspective on mental illness, the good and the bad times, that we saw his passion for movies become more real. I loved the fact that they bonded over creative things and photography, too, and that she found a safe space in the video store. And even tho it wasn’t resolved properly, the scene where he comes to get her and punches Aymeric really made me cry. Also, BASILE. Best bro in law ever. Their scenes together were so homey and warm and sweet. They will have such a good relationship in time. Overall, I really like how central friendship was in this season, shown as so powerful and important. They could have done more with it but I love a lot of what we got. I am just a sucker for found family, man.

- Lola herself : I know she was a controversial character right from the start. She’s been called manipulative, selfish, out of control, toxic. And honestly at times...maybe she was a bit. I still love her. She is just so interesting to me. The lack of compassion towards her in the fandom was seriously depressing at times, and often felt like a symptom of something I’ve seen in a lot of different fandoms, ie the capacity to only tolerate moral ambiguity when it’s attached to attractive white male characters - and to only tolerate mental illness symptoms when they can be romanticized. In the end, she’s a struggling teen from a deeply dysfunctional family who’s had a very rough life, of course she’s not going to be well adjusted. All in all, I think she’s so brave, and she is a fighter. I adored her feral energies in the trailer. I also really liked her blunt honesty at times, even if it was sometimes hurtful and excessive. I think because I have the opposite tendency to be afraid to speak my mind, I really dig a character who isn’t afraid to speak the ugly truth. Even though, again, ‘the truth’ isn’t always cut and clear, and what Lola is often doing instead is listening to ‘depression voice’ who tells her to believe the worst in people. I find that fascinating, because in my experience, yes, depression comes with this terrible lucidity that makes you see through a lot of bullshit but at the same time, is distorting your perspective because of fear and shame, and kicking that, and disentangling your perception from that fatalism, is very complicated. I loved how genuine she was, how mature too sometimes through the pain, more mature than she should have been. It was rough watching her relapse, but I think the portrayal of addiction was pretty very well done overall, not romanticized and explained in a very coherent way. I wish the show had given her a bit more of a clearer view of her inner thoughts towards the end and let her apologize a bit more. And a clearer realisation that her parent’s lack of well expressed love didn’t doom her. But...yeah Following her really made me question my own - more hidden - self destructive impulses, linked to family shit, that pushes me to sabotage and isolate myself. Like Eliott said to her - it’s really a lifelong struggle. I think overall her arc was pretty satisfying, learning to step away from the edge, letting people in, seeing that she isn’t alone, accepting she deserves better and that her failures don’t doom her. That it is about getting up and trying again. Love her using her mother’s camera and wanting to get a phoenix tattoo, a perfect symbol for her. Also Flavie was amazing, she’s got a bright future ahead.

Negatives :

- No follow up to the assault storyline : The thing that I am, without any single doubt, most mad about, is the fact they didn’t bring up the sexual assault again. Along with Charles’ rape apologism, this creates a very dubious pattern of trivializing the issue ‘as long as it’s not real rape’. The fact that the morning after immediately turns to Elu drama is what sort of started my disconnect from the season, and the fact that they don’t bring it up afterwards even once made me angry. I think Lola, before going back to the hospital, should have told someone about the abuse she endured there, and should have told someone about Aymeric, even if only to acknowledge she wants to be done with that part of her life. Aymeric is like...Lola’s biggest villain, in a sense, he is a horrible predator but he also somehow represents her worst impulses, that part of herself that tells her she doesn’t deserve better, and I think that as a character, he was interesting, and he should have been adressed/exorcised better. If Lola was a real person, of course, she would probably have to deal with this in therapy, down the line, later, but as a story, never adressing this again left it unfinished. And this is really the kind of event you NEED catharsis and resolution for. Otherwise, it’s irresponsible.

- A generally overstuffed and disjointed structure : My biggest problems with this season are about what isn’t and what isn’t it. I liked most of the clips, I don’t have an issue with them going dark, strangely enough, but the way they were put together was just...messy. Like many people have said, too much stuff not properly adressed. Palm of most annoyingly useless subplot, the whole Tiff thing. Yes, it was cool comparing her clique to Lamifex and Lola realizing she wants nothing to do with those shallow fake bitches. Sekou hacking her account to replace it with pigeons, amazing. After that though, it should have been DONE, and in general, it should have taken a lot less time and attention. Comparing Tiff’s social media addiction to Lola’s issues felt like some trivializing bullshit. The whole thing was just so annoying. It would have been good if it had led to some discussion of social inequality but like...not this shit. Char, equally useless (although, cool actress, cool style). Another MASSIVE problem is the lack of follow through on big clips. A great thing about SKAM, usually, is that it shows you the aftermath of big moments - characters lying in bed, cuddling, talk to their friends, crying in the shower, etc. It allows the viewer to breathe and really get into the character’s perspective, to be comforted and process drama, and for the emotions to resonate better, to have space to develop richly. Here...we had Lola brush off her assault, we saw nothing after Daphné got her back from the tower thinking she could have killed herself, we learned that they had money problems and the father didn’t go to work and then that was never adressed again and the light was turned back on by magic (????), we saw Eliott go on a major bender and didn’t really see how he got better, etc. Big lack of introspective clips in the latter part of the season took me out of Lola’s head. It was all stressful and breathless, all intensity and no pause like one grating high pitch note instead of music, it felt oppressive, with poor contrast, and very badly paced. It made everything blur together and feel less relevant. The problem with that is it really takes you out of the story ; it’s hard to care when you know whatever is happening might not have a resolution, and it doesn’t put you in the shoes of the character. This was compounded by how mediocre the social media was, when it is usually used to bridge in the gaps. And then to finish : the structure was so uneven, especially in the second part of the season. Towards the middle we had some very short episodes with very underwhelming endings, and Vendredis that felt like non events, and there wasn’t a lot happening - and then, bam, ep 9, drama overload, almost like misery p*rn, and then a super rushed resolution in ep 10. Like they cared more about twists and giving the opposite of what was expected instead of solid coherent narrative and rhythm. The romantic back and forth felt repetitive as hell too. All in all, it made for a very unsatisfying live watching experience, pretty sure anyone who didn’t watch live would like it a lot more. 

- The last two episodes : Really, I could have overlooked all the problems with the season if they had given us a good ending, but...they really really didn’t. And contrasted with last season, where my problems were focused on the middle, for me the ending is really the worst part of this season. I didn’t dislike the controversial club clips, I liked having the insight into Eliott’s insecurities, but they should never have brought those up if they weren’t going to let him adress them properly. Having everything go to shit in Lola’s life at once felt like overkill - they really should have solved those problems earlier, and then dealt with a few ones properly, showed us Lola freaking out on her own, and taken out the bullshit at the high school. Thierry slapping her was also too much, he could just have said these clumsy things. She could have distanced herself from Maya instead of pushing her away again. Also, they really should have had this happen in episode 8 again, and given us a proper resolution. While the tower sequence was incredibly powerful, I pretty much liked nothing after that. It was so annoying that Eliott brushed off Lola’s apology because while he wasn’t wrong that he decided to get drunk himself, she still needed to apologize and actually state that she wanted to get better so she didn’t hurt her friends, so as a resolution it was very mediocre. Thierry recognizing they should have given Lola the choice to go the hospital was a step but really not enough. And the moments with Maya were cute sure but mostly cheesy and unearned. Same for the ending clip. Mostly it’s such an unsatisfying farewell to the old generation, and it really feels like they wanted us to force to move on - didn’t want to properly recognize the end of an era, gave us almost nothing about their BAC or their future plans, etc etc. Also, letting Charles talk and having Arthur and Alexia kiss again ? SO BAD. UGH. I will be forever disappointed they didn’t give us a Multi POV or at least sth better on social media. And not having Eliott’s POV or at least a real Elu conversation (pretty much all season...) so frustrating I will never not be bitter about that. So yeah. The season started so powerfully but went out with a whimper instead of a bang. That whole ‘romantic love solves everything!!!’ shtick...very undercooked tbh. 

Meh : 

- Mayla’s development : I wanted to stan them SO BAD. Like, wlw in skam (that doesn’t turn into a panphobic mess?) YES, all the way yes. Maya and Lola had great chemistry, great dynamic. I loved their first few clips, the kind of confrontational flirting, the boldness, it was like...damn girls ! we love a non useless lesbian ! But...somewhere along the way, their relationship really suffered from the wacky plot structure. They should have shown us more bonding before we got to the angsting (esp during first urbex night). Also, their first kiss was sweet but I hated the ‘you’re my addiction’ line and that kind of put a damper on it. I liked the scenes where they open up about difficult things, the love Maya showed to Lola’s scars, the dandelion symbolism was lovely, but it wasn’t balanced enough with other stuff, and I felt Maya was way too stoic at times. And I really, really didn’t like the ending, honestly. They kept a good balance all season showing Lola wasn’t relying entirely on romantic love, that her family and friends were also important - but saying ‘i’m okay as long as you’re here’ at the end...honestly that sounds unhealthy and codependent as fuck. I really wish they’d done a more subtle, taking it slow ending for them.

- The financial issues : Again a storyline with much potential that wasn’t dealt with properly. It’s really good that we got a main that wasn’t from an economically priviledged background. Especially it felt very relevant to Daphné’s storyline, with the shame she felt at her friends seeing her place, the pressure to make it work, tying into her ED, etc etc. But cutting off the power, the father not working going nowhere...it’s like the plotline meandered and then vanished into thin air. Instead of that, they could have given us a scene of Daphné freaking out over the bills like in OG w Vilde, keeping the focus on her for that plot because she’s the most affected ; and then in the end of the season the father taking them over from her and telling her he’s found another job and that those things shouldn’t be her responsibility. That would have been relevant, instead of just...a loose end.

- Family issues : The Lecomte family dynamic seemed fascinating to me at the start. The mom being this shadowy complicated figure. The inability of the father to deal with anything. Daphné being parentified, Lola becoming the symptom child. They could have done a lot with this, but in the end, it felt like it was brushed aside too easily by saying the mom sent letters so she wasn’t too bad and Thierry is making breakfast so he’s trying. Not enough. I wanted them to let Lola acknowledge she deserved better and that their parent’s crap wasn’t on her. That her mom should have looked for help and the other two shouldn’t have pretended everything was okay. In general, there is way too much pressure to overlook toxic parent behavior and I wish they’d been clearer about this. 

- Mental health portrayal : Some parts of it were really good. Showing Daphné’s ED, letting Eliott talk about his episodes and relapses, showing some of the dark sides of depression and addiction. They just needed to show more of the recovery, because that is often the representation that they lacked the most. I don’t blame them for showing the bad sides of the mental healhcare system (which is terribly outdated and dysfunctional in France, I’m speaking from experience) but they should have shown the good too. Like do they find recovery boring or something ? Because as a person w MI, that’s actually what I’m dying to see, and they’ve been a real letdown in that department. I also think they should have acknowledged that the Lecomte family has mental issues as a whole, that the mother should have gotten help, and the father probably needs it too (still think they should have gone to therapy as a group lol).

- Elu and Eliott’s development : Honestly, not a big fan of how they wrote Lucas in s5&s6, in a lot of clips he was the angry guy with a temper, I miss s4 Lucas who was so compassionate and showed real growth and emotional intelligence. Here it just felt like they were fitting his character to plot needs, and it’s so sad for a character who had such an amazing story development. Now, I loved the glimpses of domestic Elu we got, how Axel and Maxence really showed the intimacy that had grown between them, they really felt married with all the nonverbal conversations and touches, that was sweet. But it’s so annoying that they hinted at Lucas’s insecurities and Eliott’s lack of communications and just brushed it away with ‘oh they love each other they will be okay’ sure bitch but then show us how ? that’s the interesting stuff ? it really feels sometimes like the writer(s) didn’t like how strongly the fans focused on the romance when they wanted to be talking about MATURE dark stuff not that frilly fluffy romance shit *eyeroll* male writers who think they’re above that stuff is so annoying as is the conflating of dark and mature - anyway. Again I liked seeing Eliott in his element this season, he is really thriving, with his movie and the video store, and that made me very happy. I don’t think it’s unrealistic he didn’t make a lot of friends in uni - French university can be so isolating, there isn’t a campus or a vibrant social life like in the US, it’s a very common experience to feel lost and isolated for newbies and it was also my case - but ? Sofiane ? Idriss ??? They could have found a better excuse to implicate Lamifex in the movie making tbh, like Jo egging him on about her passion for directing or whatever, and Sofiane could have been there chilling with them it would have been so cool. I just wish Eliott would have had more of an arc like Daphné did. It wouldn’t have taken much, and since he is my favorite character, I will never not be disappointed at all the wasted potential. 

Yeah so in the end i think this was a very good story they didn’t entirely give themselves the right storytelling tools to tell. Like there is something in the way they prioritize certain moments over others that...I just find very frustrating and weird. So...flawed, but still very interesting overall.

[thepancakeboi]

10. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

WARNING: Persona 5 Royal spoilers ahead, especially beyond the cut!

Small potatoes... Of all the things I could be thinking about on my last day alive, potatoes were the last thing I would have expected.

Yet here I am, thinking about small potatoes. Not the kind that you can eat, but the phrase that had been thrown in my face yesterday when I had implied that my life wasn’t worth anything. Did Ren even realize what that phrase can reference? Love is not a potato; you cannot throw it out the window. Death is not a potato... “This isn’t small potatoes,” he said. Was he trying to imply more with such a stupid phrase, or am I just overthinking every single word that comes out of his mouth? I may never know.

Soon, it won’t matter anyway.

I force myself to stop thinking about some stupid potatoes and instead stare down at my phone. Not that the name of the person who’s currently open in my contacts is helping in that regard. Ren Amamiya.

What am I even doing? I shouldn’t be bothering him now. He’s probably going to school at the moment. I’ll see him later with the rest of the Phantom Thieves anyway. This is ridiculous. My own sentimentality is starting to piss me off, yet I find myself wanting to hear Ren’s voice right now. I don’t know what spurs me to do this, but before I know it, I’ve pressed the call button. It doesn’t even ring a second time when the call is answered. “Akeppi!” Ren says in a way of greeting. I can practically hear the happy grin that probably spread on his face when he saw I was calling him.

“Ren. Are you at school yet?”

“No, I’m still at Leblanc.”

The next words out of my mouth surprise me. “Would you...want to spend some time together? Before the fight against Maruki. There are...some things I need to tell you.”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Should we meet somewhere other than Leblanc? I doubt Sakura-san will let you skip your classes so easily.” I don’t want Ren to get in trouble for accepting my selfish request at the last minute.

“No, he’ll understand,” he says, completely sure of himself. It helps alleviate my concerns. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Very well. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up before I get a chance to hear if he replies. Right now, I just want to focus on getting from Kichijoji to Yongen-Jaya. That’s all.

I haven’t even been on the platform for ten seconds before the train arrives, and I even manage to get a seat. There aren’t as many people as there usually are. My mind is all too inclined to view this as another of Maruki’s machinations. It’s yet another one of those small events trying to persuade me to stop rebelling and accept this sickening reality as the truth. I’ll decide the truth for myself. I will choose my own path, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be this one fabricated for everyone’s so-called happiness. I refuse to be controlled by another any longer, whether it’s Shido or Maruki.

The trek to Leblanc is rather uneventful. I walk into the little back-alley cafe as if this were any normal day. Ren is waiting for me, sitting in the same booth that he had been sitting in with Maruki yesterday. I shove the memory aside for now. “Hey,” I say, my voice probably sounding more tired than I would like.

Sakura-san looks up from the coffee distiller before looking knowingly at Ren. “Why don’t you two head upstairs?” he says. It seems Ren was able to convince him after all. “That way you won’t be bothered by the customers.”

The look on Ren’s face is almost cheeky as he replies, “What customers?”

“Go on, scram. You should be glad I let you stay home.”

“I know. Come on, Akeppi,” he says to me as he grabs ahold of my wrist, eagerly pulling me along behind him as he leads me upstairs. 

It’s still disconcerting being here with only Ren. He gestures for me to sit down next to him on his bed. I hesitantly sit beside him. How he can be okay with me being so close to him, especially when I have tried to kill him on multiple occasions, is beyond me. I look around the dusty attic that is Ren’s room and am surprised to see no sign of a certain black and white feline. “Where’s Morgana?” I ask.

“Oh, he’s hanging out with Futaba,” he says before diving right into the reason I came here in the first place. “So what’s up? I didn’t think you’d ask me to play hooky.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, but...” I trail off, unsure of how I want to phrase what I’m about to say.

“Goro...?”

“Promise me that you won’t change your stance on fighting Maruki when I say this.”

“I told you we’re stopping him.”

That’s not what I mean. “And you won’t back down?”

“Goro, just tell me.”

I steel myself for these next words. I’ve never said them before. I tried in the past to bundle my complicated feelings for the Phantom Thieves’ leader as intense hate and jealousy. After that, I told myself it was simply the necessity of teamwork that was required to take down Maruki. We had a deal. That’s all. Ha, what a load of bullshit that was. I finally have come to terms with these feelings inside my tattered heart. My voice is barely even a hushed whisper as I speak. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

I’m watching Ren so closely that I get to see the exact moment everything clicks in his head. I haven’t seen him look so surprised since he first saw me after my supposed death. “You love me too?”

Too. I’ve known for a while about his feelings towards me. For months, he’s told me over and over how much he enjoys my company and how he’d always make time for me. Every time I texted him, a response came almost immediately as if he was waiting for me. Don’t even get me started on the aftermath of the fight we had in Shido’s palace. He cried. It’s the only time I’ve ever witnessed him break down as Joker. Ren has always made his feelings clear, whereas I have denied them and hid them from everyone...until now. “Yes. I do.”

“And that terrifies you?” I simply nod in response. Ren continues to probe at the issue, his natural selflessness making it impossible for him to leave the matter be. His next question is more of a statement like it’s something he believes true yet isn’t sure of its validity. “It isn’t because you want to hate me, is it?”

“No.”

“And you won’t let this stop you from rejecting Maruki’s offer.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Is it because of me?”

Ren’s as perceptive as ever. It’s all because of him, though I’m not sure exactly what he means by his question. “Elaborate.”

“You’re afraid I’m gonna change my mind. That I’ll accept this reality.” I let my silence be the answer to this. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I finally spit out. There’s so much repressed anger in that one word and I’m sure he can hear it too.

“Goro, you know I don’t break my promises.”

At this, I snarl, “Your indecisiveness yesterday was more than enough to prove it a possibility.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Bullshit!” I have no idea what’s come over me or how to stop it, so I do what I do best nowadays: push people away from me. “I know, deep down, you want this. You’re afraid I’m going to disappear the moment we win against Maruki.”

“I-”

“Don’t tell me I’m wrong! Do you think you can fool me again? Maruki said it himself. Your wish was to have a fresh start with me, where I never committed any of my crimes and everything is infuriatingly perfect. You can’t possibly think I would be happy with that! I don’t deserve any of-!”

“Goro, listen to me!” He isn’t yelling, but he has that authoritative tone he gets as Joker. Not once have I heard it outside the Metaverse. It’s so unexpected that I can’t help but go silent, letting him finally speak. “You’re not wrong...if I could, I’d choose to stay here,” he says, not as Joker the Phantom Thief, but as Ren Amamiya the high schooler who shouldn’t have to decide the fate of the world yet again. “I don’t want to lose you again... But this is what you want. I want you to be happy, Goro. If that means fighting Maruki, then I’ll do it. For you.”

I’m...not sure how to respond to that. He is being completely honest with me, that much I know for certain. He’s not doing this because he wants to, but when has he ever done anything for selfish reasons? To think he would go so far as to sacrifice his one chance of eternal happiness for someone like me. It’s almost unbelievable. “Ren...”

“You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll always be by your side.” He runs a gentle finger down my eye, wiping away the tears I hadn’t even noticed were forming. “You’ll never be alone again.”

I know Ren means it. I can’t come up with anything to say to that, so I simply don’t respond. If only I could say the same to him. It would be a lie if I did, though. There’s absolutely no guarantee that I’ll be able to do that after today. All the evidence points to the contrary. “So, we’re stopping Maruki?” I ask before the silence becomes awkward.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“You did say that. I simply wanted to confirm it.”

“No matter how many times you ask, the answer’s gonna be the same.” Ren looks at me with the most loving expression I have ever seen directed towards me, one full of the warmth and compassion I had been missing for most of my life before I met him. “Do you have anywhere to go before that?”

“No,” I reply with a shake of my head. “I know I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, but...if this is my final day, I want to spend it with you. If that’s okay with you, that is.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

We lay there for some time in comfortable silence. One of his arms holds me in a tender embrace while the other runs a hand through my hair. Both of my arms are wrapped around Ren. I don’t plan on letting go of him until I have to. For the first time in months, I feel almost relaxed. I never want this moment to end. But I know that it will have to end, and then we’ll have to fight for our true reality. I just hope that it has a place for us and for moments like this.

Prompt list

[bigskydreaming]

One of the biggest problems with refusing to give much acknowledgment to young Dick Grayson as having been very traumatized rather than just ‘cheered up within a couple of months after coming to the Manor, all on his own, cuz Dick’s just like that, now on with the cute Bruce and young Dick Feels with the occasional light angst of a nightmare’.....

Is fandom is really missing out on a ton of opportunities to actually explore the idea of Good Dad Bruce Wayne that so many people try to instead superimpose on his shittier moments.

Because yeah, there’s a lot of cute headcanons and fics out there about how adorable Dick was as a kid and he and Bruce being so close and Bruce being like the ideal parent and guardian to Dick.....

But like....its easy to be or at least come across as an ideal parent and guardian....when your kid is this happy, plucky, cart-wheeling spirited boy always running around full of light and laughter.

And that’s not who Dick was, when he first came to the Manor!

He was a traumatized eight to ten year old, who’d had his whole world ripped away and replaced entirely with an unfamiliar one he didn’t want.

So many people cite the line about how he didn’t want Bruce to replace his dad and that’s why Bruce waited so long to adopt him....but follow that thread back to its source.

You think grieving, has-every-reason-in-the-world-not-to-trust-strange-adults, tiny little spitfire Dick Grayson was graceful about accepting Bruce’s attempts at comfort at first, when all he wanted was his parents back, when he likely didn’t want hugs from this weird rich guy he didn’t understand, because all he wanted were hugs from his mom and dad?

Everyone’s so quick to point out adult Dick Grayson’s poor coping mechanisms and repression and tendencies to self-isolate and attempt to deal with his various traumas in less than ideal ways.....

You think those behaviors all just popped into existence for the first time on his eighteenth birthday? That he didn’t do similar things with his very early traumas, because those tendencies had already formed or were in the process of forming because of those very traumas?

My point is...

Dick Grayson was not an easy child when he first came to the Manor.

He couldn’t have been. No one could, in his shoes, and anyone who appeared otherwise would just be faking.

And hey, doesn’t that sound an awful lot like Dick Grayson behavior too?

So, the pun-slinging, mischievous, fun-loving sprite that Dick Grayson was as Robin and in his and Bruce’s most heart warming canon stories....

Was either a total cover-up job plastered over all of Dick’s trauma from the very start, meaning none of it ever got addressed or was something he ever moved past to any degree....

Or else, that happy, laughing young Dick Grayson was who he BECAME. After an actual hard, angsty, angry, occasionally self-isolating, irrational and otherwise Dick Grayson-esque road to recovery.

BECAUSE OF BRUCE.

THAT’S what this fandom is missing more than anything, if you ask me. Actual looks at the HARD early times with Dick and Bruce, where this young, inexperienced, totally in over his head Bruce Wayne who’s fast realizing he doesn’t have as much insight into this grieving child as he naively first assumed...

FIGURES IT OUT.

Day by day.

BY DOING THE WORK.

By being there for this kid through all the ups and downs. By refusing to be pushed away and shut out no matter how many times and how many ways Dick tried. By passing every test put before him by the untrusting kid betrayed by the system nominally there to protect him, who needed PROOF that there were still good people out there, still good adults, and that Bruce was one of them, that Dick could trust him, count on him, HE WASN’T GOING TO LEAVE HIM, no matter if Dick tried giving him reason to because he figured it was going to happen anyway and he wanted to get it over with.

Nothing frustrates me more - and you all know a lot frustrates me, lmao - than this implicit INSISTENCE so many people have that a young, traumatized orphan was the magic nightlight that came into Bruce’s life and transformed its drab darkness into a Disney scene as he smiled again for the first time since his parents died, at the sound of laughter....from this...young...traumatized...freshly orphaned and mistreated kid.

I’m sorry.

What?

Like, this is what it all traces back to. This is where the idea that Dick is never traumatized himself, or at least never enough so that it prevents him from doing what he’s really there to do, which is brighten everyone else’s life....

BECAUSE SO MANY PEOPLE ACT LIKE HE SOMEHOW MANAGED TO DO THAT FOR BRUCE, EVEN IN THE RELATIVE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH OF HIS FAR MORE RECENT TRAUMA.

NO.

That is not how that worked, lmao!

That was never going to be an option for how that worked!

When you think that a recently traumatized orphan is the magic cure-all for the FIFTEEN YEARS PAST trauma of a grown adult....

SOMETHING IS NOT CLICKING THERE.

So much of fandom has it completely backwards, I maintain, and so much of what we complain about and criticize about Dick’s writing in both canon and fanon is all just ripple effects emanating out from that.

Because Dick did not brighten Bruce’s life by just being his bubbly, cheerful, adorable sunshine-y self.

Dick brightened Bruce’s life by giving Bruce a reason to CARE about having brightness in it as much as he was surrounded by darkness.

Because Bruce had spent the last fifteen years neglecting to prioritize including any brightness in his own life, for his own sake, because as far as he and his immutable survivor’s guilt were concerned, he didn’t need it, perhaps didn’t deserve it.

BUT HE REFUSED TO LET THAT BE TRUE FOR THIS KID TOO.

He may not have been willing to fight to keep his own life and outlook bright and cheery all these years, but this kid who’d endured so much tragedy in so short a time, was so lost, was so quickly fading away into scraps of nothing compared to the bright, vibrant, larger than life figure Bruce had only briefly caught a glimpse of that night at the circus BEFORE tragedy struck and the world started piling on the darkness and trying to douse that kid’s light....

Bruce was going to fight like hell to keep that from happening, to keep that child he’d only seen for the briefest of times from turning cold and aloof and bitter.

Because maybe the problem had always been that when it came to himself, he didn’t remember what it had been like before his parents died, what he’d been like. He couldn’t see, couldn’t imagine, what he was supposed to look like when he was happy, what that even was...couldn’t picture it to even have a goal that the always goal-oriented Bruce Wayne could strive towards.

But a happy, bright, beaming Dick Grayson.....

Bruce knew what that looked like. He’d seen it once, the night they first met. HE KNEW WHAT WAS POSSIBLE FOR DICK, what he could be, because he knew and remembered seeing Dick be that before...and there was a clear picture for that, a goal, something that could be aimed for, something to keep aiming for even when it seemed impossible to reach at times.

But it wasn’t impossible. Not for Dick. No matter how hard it got at times, no matter how much Dick pushed him away or tried to drown himself in darkness and shut off all feelings, armor up all his vulnerable parts where the world might sneak in and hurt him.....Bruce wasn’t going to quit because that happier Dick Grayson was out there, was still a possibility. He’d seen it, captured it in his mind, held it up in his memories as proof of purpose whenever he started to doubt himself, or Dick’s ability to recover, or his ability to be the one to help Dick recover...

But if not him, who else was going to do whatever it took to be whatever Dick needed? As far as Bruce could tell, especially in takes where the system already had its shot at doing right by Dick and demonstrated an appalling lack of giving a fuck before Bruce stepped into the ring.....nobody else but Bruce seemed to remember that happier, brighter Dick Grayson. Nobody else seemed as invested in preserving THAT version of him, keeping it alive, fanning the last dying sparks of that bright spirit as long as it took to reignite back into a blazing bonfire that would become a beacon of brightness for Bruce himself, and a whole city and at times even a whole world.

So when you can’t trust anyone else to do a job right, you do it yourself. That’s ALWAYS been Bruce’s philosophy. Hell, its the whole nature of his control freak tendencies.

So that’s what Bruce did. And nobody does stubborn like him, not even Dick Grayson, and eventually, even the angry, bitter, untrusting and totally traumatized version of himself Dick had every possibility of turning into, instead gave way to Bruce’s far more determined refusal to let that happen, and Dick was like, well fuck it, guess I’ll be happy again if you’re gonna be like that about it.

I mean, lol, not really, but you get my point.

Dick didn’t save Bruce.

BRUCE SAVED DICK.

And not by just opening up his home to him. Not by just being someone who nominally, casually, as though that’s all there was to it was just ‘there for him while Dick grieved and recovered’ like it was as simple as that.

There was nothing simple about it. There couldn’t have been. Because there’s nothing simple about that much grief, that much trauma, that much upheaval, that many reasons to give up on the world and refuse to let anyone in or ever really trust anyone again.

Y’know. Like happened for Bruce, over a course of fifteen years, because this stuff is a JOURNEY not an anecdote like ‘well that happened but then they got over it and became superheroes, the end.’

No. Putting a roof over his head and food on his plate and even giving him a mask and a cape, those were just actions. Those were just pieces. Those were just thumbnails of the big picture.

None of those saved Dick. Made him the man, the hero he became.

BRUCE DID THE WORK.

Its that simple, and its also that complex. It was a process. It was a journey. It was a long hard road full of pitfalls and self doubt and second guessing and frustration. It was a million reasons to give up or turn back and only one reason to keep going, but one reason was all he needed. To save this one child. Not just by catching a bad guy or punching a Rogue. But to save him FULLY. His spirit as much as his body.

There’s a saying that goes something like “save one child, you save them all.”

Because the thing is, no matter how much Bruce might want to at times, he couldn’t do that for every single orphan out there. BE THERE, to the extent needed to actually bring Dick back from where his traumas had taken him. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do that for this one, for whatever reason Bruce latched on to him as the one he just couldn’t shake, couldn’t stand to see this way, HAD to do something, anything, everything to stop that. Maybe because Dick did remind him so much of himself in that one crucial moment. Maybe because he felt guilty for not doing more sooner, when he found out what CPS had actually done instead of helping him. Maybe for reasons Bruce himself could never explain, so he just grabbed at any explanation he could think of for why he felt such a bone-deep certainty that this kid, this one specifically, needed him in specific.

Doesn’t matter. But what matters is you can’t save every traumatized child, but you save one kid, you save them all.

Because every single child matters as much as all children, to the right pair of eyes.

And you save one child by proving to them they’re worth saving, proving you want to save them, make them believe it....

That child grows up caring about proving to other children they’re worth saving, proving they want to save them, make them believe it. And on and on it goes.

You raise heroes by being their heroes. You save their world by being their world.

And being a hero, saving the world, that’s HARD FUCKING WORK.

You work and you work and you work at it.

And then you work some more.

And through all the times you feel like giving up, you willfully just refuse to and you KEEP. DOING. THE. WORK.

And if you do it long enough, do it well enough, do it so thoroughly and consistently and fully that in time you forget that its work at all, that its not just a fundamental part of you, a basic fact of your being, a reason you exist and breathe and get up in the morning....

Maybe eventually, hopefully, there comes a morning where you look up and realize somewhere along the way, that kid you saved has become a hero. Maybe he’s saving the world now himself.

And then you get back to work.

THAT. Is how you get Good Dad Bruce Wayne.

And I’m here for all the Good Dad Bruce being that, proving all that to Jason, saving him that way. And the same with Tim, and Cass, and Damian, and Steph, and Duke and Harper and Cullen and Colin and whoever you want to throw in the mix.

Its just.

That has to start with Dick.

It just has to.

Because a happy, cheerful, pun-loving, wise-cracking Robin like Dick Grayson was even after all the tragedy he’d endured so early in his life....

As well as THROUGH all the tragedy he endured as Robin...

That doesn’t just HAPPEN.

Kids aren’t just LIKE that.

You don’t get to expect them to just BE like that, all on their own. To just bounce back to their factory settings after enough time filling their grief quota.

Even a kid like Dick, hell, especially a kid like Dick, needs HELP to get to that point after where they’ve been, what they’ve been through. Needs a REASON to get to that point, a reason to try, to care, to get back up and fly again. Needs guidance, a road map. A guiding light through the darkness, a lighthouse that pierces through the fog.

You don’t get to expect them to just make it there on their own if they just spend enough time stumbling around in the dark, getting even more banged up as they trip and fall and crash into things with no idea what to look out for or a clue they might be headed down an even more dangerous path.

Saving people is hard work. There are no shortcuts. And it never stops.

Bruce Wayne knew that when Dick was younger. He proved it, time and time again.

Dick Grayson the hero IS the proof of that.

You only actually get Bad Dad Bruce Wayne...when he forgets to do the work. Stops doing it, stops trying. Maybe thinks he doesn’t have to do the work anymore, or at least not do as much of it. Thinks maybe he’s done now, its all up to Dick now.

No. Taking a kid in, raising them, making yourself their world until they feel safe and comfortable enough to look beyond you to see what else is out there again....that’s a job you don’t ever get to stop doing, once you willingly start. There is no clocking out. You don’t go home at the end of the day and not expect to see them there, because its their home too and if they feel otherwise or aren’t sure of that, that just means you have more work to do.

So you want to nip Bad Dad Bruce Wayne in the bud?

And not just in terms of Dick, but all or any of his children?

You still have to START with Dick and KEEP BRUCE DOING THE WORK with Dick. Putting in the time, the effort, the care, not taking him for granted, and never letting there reach a point where Bruce thinks Dick’s old enough that Bruce doesn’t need to do that anymore.

Because a Bruce that stops doing the work with Dick is a Bruce that’s going to stop doing the work with all his other kids in due time as well.

Especially since the more you treat Dick Grayson’s early years with Bruce like they were all carefree and trauma proof, just laughter and puns and Saturday morning cartoons....

The more it begs the question....

If Bruce can’t even make it work with a kid that ‘makes it that easy’....how the FUCK do you think he can make it work with all the kids you guys all so much more easily regard as more traumatized, more difficult, harder to reach or get through to?

Like....the more you accept Bruce had to do actual WORK to help Dick heal, the more Jason and all the others benefit by extension....because it makes Bruce that much more intuitive by the time he gets to them, that much more aware of his own actions and choices and impact.

This fandom wants more Good Dad Bruce Wayne content so bad, well guess what, I actually do too.

But if you want Bruce to never forget to keep doing the work, to keep caring, to keep making an effort and making a point to BE there for his kids...

Then as content creators....it doesn’t work if you forget to make Bruce do that  work, make those efforts.

And not just for some of his kids, but ALL of them.

Because if you can justify him not needing to do the work with one of them, you’re only kidding yourself if you think your version of his character could never justify giving up on doing the work for any of the others too.

[mc-critical]

On my former ask you made a comparison I found rather interesting and had a follow up question on. You said you found similarities in MCK Geverhan and Hatice emotionally. Do you feel that Geverhan would’ve been a bit more vocal as Hatice was if not for her constricting enviornment? I always read Gevherhan as a bit more quiet/docile when it came to her emotions especially given that Murad was..well Murad. Sulieman was no hero and definitely very flawed but he wasn’t threatening the people closest to him with death for expressing their emotions. Hatice was definitely very confident in expressing disappointment or anger regardless of who was on the receiving end, whereas Geverhan seemed to have more of an inclination towards quieter forms of emotional expression. What do you think?

Yes, to me, Gevherhan and Hatice have their humanity and understanding to others in common, but there is truly this solid emotional contrast between them that diverts their arcs from each other and one cannot make the same choices as the other- Hatice learns to express her emotions to the point of them taking over her entirely, while Gevherhan learns to repress her own emotions to the point where there's no turning back now.

Let me elaborate it further: I mentioned in the previous ask about Hatice that at first, she wasn't willing to tell Valide or SS at all how she feels about Ibrahim because she knows about the likely end. She'd rather die than let that happen. Hatice was willing to do anything but express her emotions then. It was only after she married Ibrahim where she began to demand more for herself. It was only after her character deconstrustion where it became clear that she cares about what she wants to the point she's going to openly protest to get it the second she realizes what is going on. She gains very strong attachments to the people she loves and that only empowers her will to say everything out loud. Hatice values family, but in a way that she expects the same amount of decency and sympathy to her own struggles as the one she gives them when they're in need. She expects that her brother would at some point understand her point of view and when that isn't the case, she wants to know why. She wants to know what was the reason and what was the fault of the person he decided to punish. After Ibrahim died, she approached him in utter disbelief, wanting him to deny his own deed, say that he wasn't the one who did it. She expressed emotions in order to seek answers and when she didn't, she experienced them in moments of severe loss - the loss of her children, the loss of Ibrahim, something she wants to never experience again and when it happens, it still hits so strongly. Gevherhan is really more repressed, composed even, in comparison, but she also wasn't always this way. Look how at the death of Topal Pasha, she didn't keep it in her, but almost immediately went to confront Murat about it. But then, maybe the earliest out of everyone, she discovered Murat's true nature and got the first hint of how dangerous could he be. Not to mention she also let her anger out on Silahtar, something Gevherhan from the next episodes wouldn't normally do. Even though she found out Topal was a traitor all along, I feel that memory of Murat remained in her and drove her to begin repressing her own emotions and turn into her docile sultana we all know. We could argue that the betrayal of her husband itself also brought her to this, because maybe that anger was all warranted? What was the point when nothing would change? I agree that Gevherhan was limited by her constristive environment, too - and not only because Murat was Murat and that hshe began to genuinely fear him, but also because she was reminded both by Kösem and by herself that she was a sultana and had to act like one. She, like Handan, could never adapt to the environment around her (she told that to Silahtar) and had to force herself to keep it together. The environment was only encouraging for Hatice: Mahidevran told her to express her feelings, when SS found out he did ask how could they think that he wouldn't respect their love, etc. and it's a part of what made Hatice more expressive overall. Gevherhan was constantly limited by all her surroundings. But it's not as if she can't be expressive, on the contrary, she can be and when she is, it's all the more powerful, because she speaks so honestly and touchingly, even in her sadness or anger. She could be very expressive and open when she wanted to, but there's something that stops her along with her environment that I think would prevent her from acting accordingly if that environment wasn't as restricting: Gevherhan constantly puts the feelings of others before her own.

Hatice is very understanding and empathetic and it could seem that she also shares the same trait: she can entirely empathize with people when she comforts them on their sorrow, but when her own problems come to the surface, she understandably focuses only on her own pain and can become ignorant of people's feelings as a result. (when due to the little rift with Valide she tells Mahidevran that it was Valide that made SS invite her to her chambers. Hatice apologized, of course, but still.) Gevherhan, on the other hand, is so empathetic to people's feelings to the point she is willing to consistently repress her own and put her own happiness behind only for them to be happy. And when she's upset someone, the first thing she does is try everything to set things right. After she found out the truth about Topal, she instantly went to apologize to Silahtar that she vented her own anger on him. But where this trait of Gevherhan's shines the most is her relationship with Atike. Gevherhan is incredibly considerate of Atike's feelings throughout the series and she reacts to Silahtar's offense to Atike as if he offended her, too. This might seem both selfless and selfish at first glance, because of Gev's own growing feelings for him, but that gets a quick rebuttal when we see that in all their confrontations about this issue, she brings up only her sister's pain, never her own. She wonders not how he dared deceive her, but how he dared deceive Atike. And while one might think Gev told Atike to forget him, so she would get happiness at last, the way she tells her this doesn't reek of selfishness at all, but rather of awareness that her own sister would actually be much sadder if she doesn't forget him. I always saw Atike as the primary reason for Gevherhan's emotional dilemma: she was afraid to delve into the unknown with Silahtar not only because of the consequences, but also because this way she would betray her sister and doesn't know could she trust the person who put her sister through so much pain. Even when Atike found out about their affair, Gevherhan tried hard to make up with her with no avail. Her fallout with Atike and her character arc is a whole is about learning to put herself first. That's why she fully discarded her after Murat decided to marry her with Silahtar. That's why her suicide wasn't so much about her standing up to Murat rather than her not only rebelling against the very rules that bound her to them, but also doing what she herself deems best for her at the moment. This repression of emotion reaches its extreme and accepting that she can no longer live with this baggage for the sake of others, she takes her own life. The point of her repressing her emotions disappears forever. But again, her selfless nature doesn't completely go away after all: her very last words were her wishing Atike to be happy where Gev never was. (E45: "I was never happy, Atike. I hope you are happy.")

This tendency of hers to repress her own emotions would be an obstacle for her to fully embrace them even if her environment was more accepting, but we really shouldn't deny the influence of the environment itself. The expression of her true emotions has been a conflict of Gevherhan's from day one and we don't know how exactly she's going to act outside of her own environment. She probably would be more open, but if she still has as much regard for people's feelings, then perhaps it wouldn't be all that easy. Her own personal happiness would be definetly more likely, however. And it would all be even better if she didn't begin repressing them in the first place and if Murat wasn't there, she probably wouldn't so much. His ruthlessness probably wouldn't make her as fearful to express what's on her mind despite of her care for people.

[readerficsbyhyaku]

Hunt for lonely souls (Endeavor x Reader) Part 2 (SMUT)

author’s note

Smut is here, hope you enjoy c: 

You had been hiding in the apartment for a week when the power was cut off. You knew it was bound to happen as more havoc was brought upon the city, but it still was a major annoyance. For example, you couldn’t have hot showers anymore, at least until Endeavor’s quirk came in handy, getting him to heat the water tank as you hopped into the bathroom. He could make pans and pots boil by holding them in his hands and focusing his flames there, even though he expressed a strong dislike at being compared to a stove.

The only thing he couldn’t fix was the cold, especially at night. You had dug up a mountain of covers and duvets, and stuck to one room in hopes the heat would be retained, but you were still frozen when the sun went down. Endeavor did not seem to be bothered by it, his body usually emitting a constant warmth that had you glued to his every step.

It was when you woke up with a sore throat and sneezing that he proposed.

« Why don’t we sleep together ? »

You almost spat out your tea.

« WHAT ?! »

He looked serious.

« For heat preservation. It would be bad if you caught a cold, and i usually run hot. »

Oh he was certainly hot, you had noticed quite a few things while being stuck with him 24/7, but that was not something you could say to his face. You just accepted his offer, as gracefully as possible coming from someone buried under about 30 blankets and with a runny nose.

The day went on as usual, which meant quite boringly for the two of you, trying to find entertainment in the books left by the previous tenants of the place. It was only when the evening came that anticipation started to twist your gut. You were still on the living room couch, not even near bedtime, but you were already finding plethora of excuses about sleeping in the same bed at Endeavor.

It’s just because i’m cold, simple as that ! We’re both adults and we know there is no further meaning behind sharing a bed than keeping each other warm.

You were rubbing your hands together as your extremities were growing colder, despite the covers, when Endeavor rose from his armchair in front of you to seat next to you. You followed his movement with curiosity, not understanding why he was doing this. But then, he started to pull some of the blankets off of you, as if he was peeling the comfy onion you had become.

« What are you doing ?! » you screeched as you felt the sharp nip of cold reach your skin, repressing a shudder.

The man then huddled to your side while rearranging the covers around the both of you, as best he could.

« Better ? » he huffed while giving you a stern glare, which you now knew was his default expression.

You were indeed feeling suddenly warmer, but you didn’t know if it was because of his quirk, or because he pulled you so close to him, his arm circling your waist and keeping you put. Your mind was racing with thoughts at first, but soon the position deemed quite comfortable, and the constant warmth lulled you to sleep.

Several hours later, you woke up. You didn’t remember falling asleep, and you were not on the couch anymore. Lights were off and as you sat up to see where you had ended, pushing a few blankets off your body despite the chilling air, a strong arm snaked around your waist and tugged you back down onto the bed. As you looked next to you, you saw Endeavor, shirtless, sleepily opening one blue eye and asking you

« Something happening ? »

Heat coiled in your gut. You whispered

« No, everything’s okay. Sorry for waking you up. »

And you sunk back under the covers, Endeavor pulling you flush with his body as you turned your back to him, embarrassed by the sudden proximity between the two of you. After a few minutes though, you couldn’t help but pipe up.

« Endeavor ? »

The deep, gravelly voice answered

« Enji. »

« What ? » you whispered back.

« You can call me Enji. »

You took a few moments to let that sink in. Sharing a bed would usually come after being on a first-name basis, you mused internally.

« Enji » your voice wavered, still not used to the intimacy of using his first name, especially not while said man was glued to your back, arms around you and talking so close to your ear.

« Did you bring me here ? »

He took some time to answer, sleep clearly taking its toll on him.

« Hmm » he rumbled « Didn’t want to wake you up, couldn’t let you get cold. »

His hold got somewhat tighter.

« D-do we really have to be this close ? And why are you shirtless ? » you couldn’t help but ask.

« To keep you warm, both » he murmured as he nuzzled your neck, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin there.

You weren’t sure if it was truly his body heat keeping you toasty, or the warmth blooming between your thighs.

« Now sleep. » he huffed out as his thumb rubbed small circles on your hip, slipped under the ample shirt you had borrowed.

You thought you definitely couldn’t get to sleep with so many sensations assaulting your senses, but your brain soon tired of running overdrive and you fell into slumber once more.

When you woke up, you were now facing Endeavor’s chest and still tangled in his arms. The warmth from before came back to you as you detailed the thin hair adorning his muscular torso, rising to every one of his deep breaths. You unwound yourself from his grip as he sluggishly woke up, casting a questioning glare towards you.

« I’m going to take a shower, you can sleep in if you want ! » you said as you jumped off the bed and scurried towards the bathroom.

« The water is cold... » he articulated as you escaped his hold.

You almost stopped in your tracks, but you couldn’t go back there.

« It’s okay, don’t worry ! » you said as you smiled back to him, even going as far as making a thumbs up, before resuming your intended course.

You had read several written pieces where cold showers helped curb some sensations, especially in more romance-oriented books. But as you stepped under the ice-cold beam of water, you deemed it was all bullshit. You energetically rubbed soap onto your skin and hair before rinsing it, at least until your fingers hurt from the cold bite and you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You stepped out of the bathtub with chattering teeth, and hastily wrapped yourself in a few towels, urgently rubbing off the water that was making your temperature drop. You then hopped into your clothes, feeling oddly warm even though you were certain they weren’t, and you dashed to the kitchen to make yourself some tea.

Until you remembered that you couldn’t heat the water without Endeavor’s help, so you stomped back to the bedroom, cold still painfully nipping at your flesh.

« End-Enji, i need your help to heat up some water ! » you said as you reached the open doorway.

He turned around, and you saw he was in the midst of putting a shirt back on, arms tugging the tight fabric over his abs. You didn’t stare, you didn’t intend to, yet you couldn’t help but notice the happy trail of red hair leading into his sweatpants as the shirt came down.

Your eyes fluttered back to his face, brain stunned and already reeling from the sight.

« Didn’t you already take a shower... ? » he asked, perplexed.

« No, no, for some tea. » you explained, slightly exasperated.

He eyed you up and down, and then said

« You look cold. »

« I am. »

Despite his abysmal social skills, he understood that you didn’t want to push the matter of why you took a cold shower even though he had offered to heat the water up. He followed you to the kitchen and got to work.

Once again, you were stuck on the couch under your fort of blankets, holding a steaming cup of tea with your numb fingers, half-burning them but you couldn’t care less. Even with the amount of covers on you, Endeavor could see you tremble and shiver.

You were cold, that much you were sure of. But your pride forbade you snuggled up to the man next to you like some scratch-starved cat. So you endured the chill, cursing against your poor choice of literature and low body heat.

But as night came around, you were dragged back to the shared bed you had with Endeavor, his piercing blue eyes and frown dismissing any attempt of escape on your part. And in all honesty, the cold had drained a lot of your energy and you couldn’t resist much the prospect of a toasty cover to snore in.

You woke up the next morning entangled with Endeavor, his chin resting on your head, and then the next morning too.

By the fifth day, you had given up and let the giant man cuddle you like you were some oversized teddy bear.

You always seemed to wake up before he did, so you used this time to detail his features. His sleeping face was relaxed, free from the usual frown he sported, and you couldn’t help but inspect his scar up close, the way his eyebrow and mustache didn’t grow on it. How his nose was so very straight. His slightly receding hairline, but nothing to be ashamed of for a man in his forties. His neat sideburns and beard, his strong jawline and - goddamit - his lips.

Seeing everything up close, from his embrace, made your heart rush and heat grow in your belly.

You sighed. How wasn’t he aware ? You were glad, and somewhat dejected that he had the decency of not lusting over his apocalypse partner.

You felt him move, your slight exhale must have woken him up. He opened his eyes and they bore through your own, the bright blue still glazed over by sleep. And then you felt his hand behind your head, tangling in your hair, and his mouth on your lips.

Too stunned to do anything, you let him kiss you deeply, hot lips molded onto yours and his arms keeping you in place, his scent overwhelming you and making your brain fuzzy.

As he broke the kiss, he blinked a few times, consciousness returning to his eyes as you stayed still.

« Shit, that wasn’t a dream. » he murmured as he rubbed a hand on his face to clear the last remnants of sleep.

« Sorry for that. »

He got up before you, his tall silhouette disappearing in the hallway as you were still processing what had happened.

You spent the rest of the day purposefully ignoring what had occurred the same morning, and as far as you knew he was doing the same.

Things didn’t feel awkward as you slipped inside the bed next to him, cuddling him for his warmth and nothing else, you told yourself. Things didn’t feel awkward as you woke him up and he always seemed to take an instant to stare at you before getting out of the bed. Things didn’t feel awkward as he kept you glued to his skin to keep you warm, at any hour of the day, because winter had settled in.

And things didn’t feel awkward when one morning, you woke up to soft pants and a constant tremor agitating the bed you laid on.

As sleep quickly cleared from your system, you were able to take in the sight before you. Endeavor, a slight sheen of sweat over his brow, eyes scrunched up and teeth gnawing at his lips, only releasing them to puff out a hot breath, a discrete moan. You were laying on one of his arms, head resting on his chest, and your gaze trailed down, down his body before you closed your eyes.

No, that was not happening.

The lewd sound of flesh rubbing flesh echoed in your ears as you forced yourself to look back at his face, ignoring what was taking place on his lower body.

As you opened your eyes again, they locked with his.

A heartbeat. Maybe two. You didn’t count.

He stared at you, eyes glazed over, the tiniest bit of pink tinting his ears and cheeks.

« Help me finish ? » he grunted out, voice straining as he didn’t stop his hand.

You knew the desperation, you knew the frustration of relief being just out of reach, so you didn’t think when you slipped one hand in his short hair and tugged his head back, maintaining eye contact with his glowing blue eyes. You buried your head in his neck and inhaled his scent deeply, a mix of spice, musk and smoke, and sucked the skin there, eliciting a raspy breath from Endeavor. Your other hand trailed down, feather-like over his abs, barely grazing the thick curls around his length before wrapping around his balls, fondling them gently as you felt his hand - the one around your waist - gripping your butt, and you knew you were doing good.

You whispered dirty words in his ear, punctuated by nips and kisses to his neck.

« Are you going to cum all over ? Spill your hot seed on your chest, your abs ? »

You could feel his movements getting sloppier, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass and more moans escaping his lips, a deliciously tantalizing sight. Eyes still locked with his, you murmured

« Come for me, Enji. »

As you pronounced his name, you felt his entire body tense beneath your hand, and he let go of a strangled grunt as his hips rutted into his fist. You didn’t look down, but you could see a milky fluid reaching up to his chest, and slowly gathering in the valley of his pecs.

His grip loosened on your buttocks, and you slid your hand out of his hair, awkwardly withdrawing the other one and not quite knowing what to do with yourself. You felt dwarfed in comparison to him, tucked to his side and engulfed by his arm.

As his breathing calmed down, he opened his eyes again and turned his face towards yours.

« Thank you. » he rumbled out, a slight smile gracing his usually harsh features.

« No problem. » you murmured, unable to look at him in the eye.

« Do you want to get up ? »

You felt him tug a blanket over his hips.

« Don’t you want me to help you get off ? »

It was the thing you least expected him to say, your eyes snapping back to his face as you stared in disbelief. You were half tempted to play innocent and tell him you didn’t need to get off, but truth was seeing him jerk off had riled you up to your limit. Throwing shyness out the window, you accepted his offer.

He sat up and you came in his lap, his strong chest at your back as you did your best to ignore the sticky feeling of his fluids on your skin. He was so tall his head reached easily over your shoulder, so you instructed

« Don’t look, give me your hands. »

You felt him nod as he held out his big hands, holding them up until you had removed any obstructing piece of clothing. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, but your gut was burning. You grabbed his hands and led them to your mound, between your spread legs.

« Okay » you exhaled shakily, tension wound up so tight you were almost trembling. « You take care of my pussy, i manage the clit. Feel, don’t look. » you ordered again as you felt him shuffle behind you.

« I like it slow at first, being stretched, feeling the burn, you can remove your fingers sometimes, you can tease me. But when i say so, don’t stop, and don’t pull them out. Understood ? »

He rumbled his approval, breath fanning over your neck, and slid his fingers down to your dripping lips.

You started by making slow circles on your clit as he mapped out your hole, spreading your lips with his thick, warm fingers and rubbing them over your slit. You could feel his muscles rolling under his skin as he slowly pushed one digit inside of you, feeling your slick walls with his roughened pad. His other hand kept your pussy spread open, and you kept going at your clit. You felt like you could come in an instant if you went any faster, Endeavor was doing wonders arousing you.

He gently pulled out his finger, and pushed it back in, your hole swallowing him easily as your fluids dripped down your ass onto the blanket. In, and out, for a few times before you felt him add another finger inside you, the stretch burning you delightfully.

You moaned in his hold, tipping your head back as you went a bit faster with your own fingers, lazily chasing your release.

That’s when you heard his voice, oh so close to your ears, whispering sultry words as he kept pumping his fingers inside of you.

« How do you like that ? How do my fingers feel inside of you ? You’re so wet, you’re taking them so easily... »

He was knuckle deep inside of you when he paused, lowering his head to nip at your neck while you sighed in contempt.

« Are two enough ? Do you want more ? Or maybe it doesn’t matter ? » he asked as he pulled out his fingers entirely, making you whine, before he slowly slipped them in again.

Oh, how the teasing felt divine as he repeated that a few times, and you were so close to coming.

« Please, put them back in. More... » you whispered, lost in the pleasure of having your pussy spread so well by the man behind you.

« I’ll open your nice little pussy, don’t worry. Your little hole takes me so well. » he growled in your ear, pushing his fingers back in and slowly adding a third one from his other hand.

You gasped at the delicious sear, his fingers pushing over the tight ring of muscle and opening it further, making you quicken your pace on your sensitive bud.

« Faster, don’t stop now » you huffed out as you closed your eyes, feeling him pump his fingers in opposing rhythm inside of your cunt, rubbing them over your walls and tightening the coil inside your belly tenfold.

You were almost there, you moaned and puffed as you almost reached your climax, but it evaded you when you went to clamp your thighs together, blocked by your aid’s thick arms. You chased your climax again, muscles straining and tense, but your hand was tiring and it felt out of reach.

Desperate, you turned towards Endeavor, tears in your eyes.

« Enji... i don’t think i can come like this... i can’t... » you almost sobbed.

« Shhh, don’t worry. » he murmured in your ear, lips grazing the outer shell of it and sending tingles down your spine.

« I know you can do it, come all over my fingers, make a mess out of me. »

And that’s all you needed to clamp down on him, body tensing up and scorching relief washing over you as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers, overstimulating your nub until your hips jerked to escape your own touch. Your back arched and you moaned his name over and over again, one of your hands leaving your clit to grab his muscular thigh to anchor yourself to reality, fingers digging in his firm flesh.

That might have been one of the best orgasms you had in a long time, you thought as you came back from your high, feeling Endeavor slip his thick fingers out of your sensitive cunt.

You waited a bit for your breath to calm down, and tentatively cleared your throat, afraid it might still come out needy after climaxing.

« Thank you, Enji, that was... pretty good. »

You saw him bring his wet and sticky fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, before smirking

« Agreed. »

[jackie-talks-about-starkid]

Me and My Dick (Rewatch #2, 9/15/2020)

YouTube publish date: November 12, 2000

Number of views on date of rewatch: 2,129,928

Original Performance Run: October 29-31st, 2009

Ticket price: ?

Director: Matt Lang

Music and Lyrics: Darren Criss, AJ Holmes, and Carlos Valdes

Book: Brian Holden, Eric Kahn Gale, Matt Lang, and Nick Lang

Cast album price and availability: $9.99, iTunes

Album release date: January 6, 2010

Parody or original: an original (I suspect that the plot may have been influenced by King Missile’s “Detachable Penis” but that’s just a hunch)

Main cast and characters

Joey Richter - Joey Richter

Dick - Joe Walker

Sally - Jamie Lyn Beatty

Miss Cooter - Devin Lytle

Vanessa - Ali Gordon

Tiffany - Alle-Faye Monka

The Old Snatch - Nicholas Joseph Strauss-Matathia

Flopsy - Brian Holden

Joey’s Heart - AJ Holmes

Musical numbers

Act I

“Me and My Dick” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Joey and Dick

“Ready To Go” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Company

“I’ve Seen You Around Here Before” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Dick and Miss Cooter

“Nothin’ Like A Dick” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Old Snatch and Miss Cooter

“Listen To Your Heart” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Joey’s Heart and Joey

Act II

“Land of the Dicks” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Weenie, Big T, and the Lost Dicks

“Even Though” by Darren Criss

     Characters: Joey and Sally

“Gotta Find His Dick” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Joey’s Heart and Company

“The Council of the Pussies" by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: The Old Snatch, High Council Pussy, and The Council of the    Pussies

“Flight of the Pussies” by AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

"Big T's Temptation" by  AJ Holmes and Carlos Valdes

     Characters: Big T and the Lost Dicks

"Finale" by Darren Criss

     Characters: Company

Notable Notes:

The cast album became the first ever student musical album to chart on Billboard’s Top Cast Albums the week it was released (x)

The album debuted at #11. It was a place above the original cast album for Rock of Ages.

Cultural Context: 2009

Me and My Dick was performed the same year that StarKid did A Very Potter Musical

Barack Obama gets sworn in as president of the US

Glee airs its first episode (Darren auditions for Finn and doesn’t get the part)

Michael Jackson dies on June 25th

Kanye West interrupts Taylor Swift’s “Video of the Year” speech at the Video Music Awards

Avatar (the one with the blue people, not Avatar: The Last Airbender) becomes the highest grossing movie of all time

The “Miracle on the Hudson” happened on January 15th

Personal Thoughts:

When one first hears of a comedic musical about pubescent high schoolers and their singing penises and vaginas, one does not think, “Wow, what a sophisticated concept that dissects the relationship between gender roles and sexual identity in modern day society,” but that’s what StarKid Productions’ Me and My Dick is truly about. At first, having the main character’s genitalia being completely separate but complementary entities to the teenagers at the center of the storyline seems jarring and like it was only done for comedic purposes, but the longer and more complicated the plot gets, the more obvious it seems to be. The main character, Joey Richter and his relationship with his Dick is a very compelling one. Throughout the musical, Joey struggles with coming to terms with his sexuality as a teenage boy. At the beginning, Joey himself reflects the average stereotype of the sex-obsessed male teenager whose primary interest is getting laid rather than achieving emotional fulfillment. Later, when his Dick becomes interested in his neighbor Sally’s Miss Cooter, Joey and his Dick have a fight about what that attraction means for their relationship and eventually separate, before eventually coming back together once Joey develops a relationship with his Heart. Joey himself is his own entity, with his own thoughts, feelings, and goals, and his struggles with his Dick and his Heart represent very real internal struggles that many teenagers, and especially teenage boys, have with themselves, their sexuality, and their personal emotions. 

Joey’s Dick, as well as the other character’s sexual organs, represent the subconscious sexual identities of each character. For Joey, his sexual identity cannot be fully realized or appreciated by himself because he has not fully matured as a sexual being. Unlike Sally, Joey does not realize that in order to achieve sexual fulfillment, he needs to not only be physically attracted to someone, but also experience an emotional connection with someone, which is something that Dick AKA his sexual subconscious realizes before Joey and even his Heart do. This journey is the perfect example of the dangers of a sex-oriented society, and how that kind of society damages the well-being of maturing men and women. In Western society, the ideal sexually mature man is defined by his sexual prowess and dominance. If he can have sex with a bunch of hot women and not worry about how emotionally in-tune he is with himself and his personal relationships, then he is the ideal man. Society teaches men (and women) from a very young age that a man’s defining trait is his sexual attitude towards others. 

The ideal sexually mature woman, on the other hand, is represented by the character Tiffany, who is arguably the most sympathetic character in the musical. Through the perspective of her vagina, lovingly referred to as The Old Snatch (aptly named as Tiffany’s sexuality represents the general mistreatment of women’s sexual selves in society), we see that Tiffany is the unfortunate byproduct of such a male dominant sexually oriented culture. The only time Tiffany has ever experienced true sexual fulfillment was during her first time having sex with an unnamed male character she was in love with. However, it was later revealed that this character used Tiffany only for his own sexual enjoyment and did not truly love her, intensely hurting Tiffany’s feelings and resulting in her being used to getting treated as a sexual object whose existence is only beneficial for men’s pleasure rather than her own emotional and sexual fulfillment. 

Another, more subtle, detail that emphasizes this theme is Sally’s opening section in “Ready to Go.” While singing, Sally already knows that she has a crush on Joey, but her low self-esteem and worries about her own attractiveness lead her to become sexually repressed, to the point where her vagina, Miss Cooter, has to ‘fall in love’ with Joey’s Dick in order to Sally to realize that she not only experiences, but truly desires having sex with Joey. 

What I love about the representation of the character’s and their respective sexual organs is that they are tethered to one another through some kind of leash-type object that allows for the penis or vagina character to be connected to their person but freely move around and act as their own character without them. While this is beneficial for the actors and entertaining for the audience to see these beings take on a life of their own, it also compliments the theme of sexual identity and maturity very well. By choosing to have penises and vaginas tethered to, but not completely physically attached to their teenage counterparts, it communicates to the audience that the sexual identity the genitalia represents in of course a very important factor of the person’s life and individuality, but ultimately not the be-all, end-all of who a person truly is. While Dick, Miss Cooter, Old Snatch, and other characters go through their own journey, the most important development is the ones that their human attachments experience. The sexuality of the character is an integral part of who the character is and how they navigate their life, but in the end, the most important thing is that the human characters go through their own development in which their sexuality compliments, but never dick-tates (sorry, I had to). 

The ultimate take away from Me and My Dick is that in order to be a fully realized individual, one has to recognize and accept all parts of themselves, instead of just focusing on their physical sexual selves and ignoring their personal feelings, or overemphasizing their emotional feelings while ignoring their physical, sexual needs. 

“[Dick] is a part of you like I am, Joey. You need him and Sally needs him” - Joey’s Heart <3

“We gotta start thinking of love and sex as a team effort. We can’t just pine over a girl we can’t get or be in a constant pursuit of sex. We need to listen to each other because that’s the only way it can work out” -Joey Richter

[thistangledbrain]

I think I’m going to add Day 28 a day early, because I just finished it. This one took me 3 days to write...I had to keep putting it down. I think because meltdowns are our strongest reminders that we are NOT like other people, and that can be hard to accept sometimes, especially when we’re trying so hard to blend in or go along. Also, meltdowns are when we are in a raw, illogical space - which is highly unsavory, to put it mildly. We are vulnerable. Naked. Stuck. Entirely in fight or flight mode - or both. For as baffling and upsetting as you find it to be - trust me, we aren’t having a good time, either.

*takes a deep breath*

Ok, here goes.

Day 28

“Dealing with meltdowns”

Well, this one’s fun. (sarcasm)

I’m glad I got a few days ahead, because this one is hard to think about, so I keep putting it down and then coming back to it. I asked my youngest some questions, but he didn’t want to talk about it, either.

We hate meltdowns. It feels like the whole world is ending/everything is crashing down at once. I don’t CARE if what triggered it was “small” - all the repressed stuff we’ve been trying to squash comes crashing in like the fuckin Kool-Aid Man through a half open door.

But, I’ll start with how you can help.

First and foremost: DO NOT TOUCH!!! NO! BAD NEUROTYPICAL!! NO TOUCH!! (One exception: if we’re trying to blindly bolt from our environment. STOP US.)

I know this is completely counterintuitive to typical human nature, especially with young children. You want to scoop them up and cuddle them and make them feel safe. Sorry, but you just did the opposite of that - you freaked us out even more, and your need to touch and comfort is entirely yours, in that moment. Let us come to you if we want physical comfort - when we do need that, we can be like clingy little monkeys (and if an Autie child clings to you during a meltdown, you *honor* that shit & throw all the loving calm energy you can out there for them - do not say anything or try and talk them out of it - just let them cling to you and cry. Literally - JUST be there). I will say, AFTER the meltdown, we will possibly need some reassurance and kindness, if you can manage it. We will sometimes allow holding when we don’t feel good, with our absolute closest humans, but generally we really want you to just be there but not touch, until we’re ready. Lots of us don’t really want you to leave altogether, at least not for long - even if it seems like we do.

If you want to help, start with keeping your energy (your “vibe”) as calm, gentle, and peaceful as possible. Try not to get frantic or frustrated. If we’re at home or in a familiar space, do things that make our space feel better - drop the blinds/make it dark, place our weighted blanket over us/find our stuffy if we have one, light a candle or burn sage/waft a favorite calming scent, like lavender. If you say anything, use a soft, gentle voice - try not to talk too much...but if you sing, that can be very soothing. Sing very softly - I don’t know why, but soft singing and rocking (if you can stay on key...sorry but it’s grating when the tune is off!) can go a long way towards calming. Things like this can head a total meltdown off or stop it in its tracks, sometimes. Or get us out into an environment that makes us happy (like a nature trail)...but if we’re past a 4 (I’ll explain in a moment), we might not be willing to.

If we’re in a school setting, get us out from under those GOD DAMNED FLUORESCENT LIGHTS...YOU might not pick up on their eye-and-head hurting flicker, but we can. They suck even when we’re in a GOOD mood. See if you can get us into a darker room, or at least one without those &$@!;!! lights. Small things like bright lights, or sounds that usually only cause mild annoyance can become HUGE - for example, my dogs. In my best moments, the sound of them licking themselves will set my teeth on edge - if I’m trying to come out of a meltdown, those sounds - or almost any sounds, really, except white noise stuff - are infuriating. I hate to say that, but 🤷🏻‍♀️ it’s just true. All your sensory shit is dialed to 11 and someone broke the knob off - there is NO “just deal with” whatever, at that point. We aren’t dealing with SHIT right then, so removal to a quiet spot is pretty damn important.

Try to distract or divert us before we’re over a 4 on a 1-10 scale, though, and absolutely before we start looping (the suggestions so far are for when the meltdown is in/almost in full swing - and I’m only speaking for older auties and into adulthood, here, though most of this stuff helps littles, too).

Let me explain “escalation scale” and “looping” - with the help of my husband, who recognizes patterns of escalation as well (in us, and in dogs ☺️). “Looping” is his word. It means no matter what you say, we keep looping back to what’s got us upset/how much we hate ourselves right then/all the bad feelings/past hurts that are piling on to the current problem. You’ll pull us out of it for a second, but then we loop right back to it. Ideally, you want to intervene before we get to the looping, which is about a 7+ on the escalation scale. Once we’re at a 7 and above....we’re consumed by it, and it gets much harder to diffuse. Think of the 1-10 scale like this: 1 is calm, 10 is completely nuclear - above a 7, almost nothing will distract us, almost nothing will divert us except bodily removal from the situation/environment & then leaving us the fuck alone (maybe figuratively but not literally - it depends on your Autie) for a while until we exhaust ourselves one way or another. If you can intervene and remove/distract right around a level 4 - which is right when you start to notice someone is getting quite agitated, you’ve got a good chance of heading the meltdown off at the pass. But if we’re already looping - repeating phrases over and over, looping back to our most upsetting feelings no matter what you say or do, sometimes while rocking or banging, you’re way too late. Now we have to ride it out together...as safely as we can manage. Now you need to make things dark, private, and as calming as you can, if possible. Or just get us the fuck out of the situation that set us off. That helps, too...obviously. I’ll tee up a possible scenario: you’re at an amusement park with your Autie. WHOA stimulation, right? You’re all having a fab time, but suddenly your Autie starts to cry or get angry or otherwise exhibit “I am SUPER OVERWHELMED” energy. 🤷🏻‍♀️ It’s just a lot to process, even when all the things are pretty fun. So, find a quiet place in a park like area to chill. Grab food from a stand - or go back out to your car and sit and eat a packed lunch or have some snacks. Don’t make a big fucking deal about it, either. Just “oh okay, I think now’s a good time for a quiet break”. Keep in mind all autistics are living in a sensory rich environment, and it can get mega overwhelming sometimes. It’s not always bad shit that sets us off.

I’ve mentioned in prior posts how it can feel like someone else is driving the car (controlling the emotions), while we sit in the back seat and scream and hit and try to get them to stop the fucking car and let us out...it’s in these moments that I TOTALLY understand how doctors got autism and schizophrenia mixed up, in years past. At least, that ripping in half is what my youngest son and I feel. YOU’RE frustrated with us right then? BRUH. WE are so fucking pissed and frustrated and upset that we can’t stop the car, too. You’re not helping if we know you are frustrated, either - that’s why I mention keeping your “vibe” as level and gentle and “no biggie” as possible.

I have some tips for head bangers and stuff, that I won’t include in this post but I’m happy to tell you what I’ve done/what can work.

Basically? “Dealing with” meltdowns is just....TRY SHIT. If you’re an Autie trying to manage your own, play around with what helps you calm down. It could be a brisk walk away from anything human, time under your weighted blanket, time in a dark warm shower or tub (idk about you, but in this house - water soothes nearly anything, most of the time), holding your pet, screaming all the cuss words you know into the void lol ....and the same methods might not work all the time (I was “feeling unsubstantiated feelings” the other day, and got into the shower before they overwhelmed me - a usual go to - but this time, the water felt disgusting, being wet just made it all worse. It surprised even me, but you gotta roll with it & try something else). But try as hard as you can to do something that will soothe you. Or find a safe place to let it all out, without hurting yourself. Pro tip, though: do not add alcohol. It not only takes away all the barriers you’ve probably put up to keep from going completely off the deep end, but it also magnifies all the bad feelings. I am, however, a big fan now of smoking a little green. I started trying that about 3 years ago and oh my god where has this been my whole adult life. I can’t take antidepressants or even most anxiety meds...but I can smoke. I use carefully chosen calming and pain relieving indica strains - sativa can sometimes make me feel more anxious. (YMMV)

If you’re the Emotional Support Human™️ of a melting down Autie, the same applies. Just try stuff. Trust me you will know if said Autie finds your efforts upsetting. It’s ok to want to talk to us about it afterwards, in a constructive way. Once we’ve calmed down, we know you’re trying to help. We’re raw and exhausted immediately after a meltdown though (meltdowns usually lead to shutdowns), so give us a little time, maybe. Or maybe not - maybe your Autie will be in a more communicative frame of mind, since it’s fresh. You won’t know unless you ask, maybe like “could we talk about this, or would you like some time to be quiet?” (Again - gentle tone and energy is important.)

Meltdowns are hard for me to write about because these days, they’re super rare, but when they happen, they’re ...well, brutal. Like really, really bad. I had one a few years ago that I think terrified my husband. We were in the car. I was getting so upset (screaming, beating my fists and probably thrashing a little) that he had to stop the car. Luckily we were in the boonies, but...not long after he stopped the car, I attempted to bolt. I felt trapped in between his efforts to soothe and the small confines of the car, and just wanted to bolt. Run. Far away. There was ZERO thought of personal safety at that point. His efforts to contain me were met with violence. I will be ashamed of that for the rest of my life - I don’t even have words for what an amazing human my husband is, and the LAST thing my non-melting-down brain wants, is to hurt him. But all I could think about was doing whatever needed to be done to escape this hell I was in. God. Just writing about it hurts, and I feel fresh shame. I’m telling you all this, so that you understand that *in that moment*, we are a cornered and overwhelmed animal, who wants to just bite bite bite or run away (fight/flight). The things we usually cling to - logic and reason - don’t exist right then. Nothing is logical - which actually adds to our upset.

There may be a time when your Autie feels like this too - and that’s one time where you DO need to intervene even if we don’t like it/hate it/get furious with you for it. If we are trying to hurt ourselves or run, do what you need to to not allow that. I truly believe this is how many young Autie kids get lost - we were upset and we just bolted blindly. We don’t react well to you stopping us....but it’s necessary.

There’s a moment in the Disney movie “Soul”, where 22 becomes a lost soul. Her little bright blue body is engulfed by swirling blackness, and inside that blackness is every bad or negative thing that’s ever been said to her. She starts looping - “I’m not good enough”, “I have no purpose”, over and over and over. This is what a meltdown feels like. In the movie, her mentor quietly hands her a small token reminder that starts to make the blackness melt away - it’s not the token that “society” thinks she should have, it’s a personal one. Shouting at her, blah blahblah talking, trying to reason with her makes her hiss and run away - but *quietly* handing her a tactile object that means something to her, brings her back to the present, and is what breaks the looping.

Here’s the clip of when he breaks through her meltdown. I hope it explains things in a way I’m struggling to. I’ll end with that...if the subtitles distract you, I apologize, I can’t find a “clean clip”.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nmapZFDUkBk&t=41s

[green-ball-of-trash]

Roman in The Closet by Himself!! Part 1

word count: 2202

ship: Prinxiety, Background Logicality, Background Remile, vaguely mention Demus.

part1/part2/part3/part4/?

WARNINGS: self deprecation, depression, repression, non-censored cursing, the word wh*re is used and it not censored, lgbtq+phobia is mentioned in this chapter but not directed at any of the characters.    

summary: Roman has a rough journey with his sexuality, and his crush on a certain little emo~ 

-

-

-

   Roman had always been enraptured with the concept of love. He could remember watching Disney movies when he was younger, where the prince rescues the princess and they both live happily ever after. 

    Although, he was never really focused on the princess of the story but more so on they heroic prince. He always thought that Prince Phillip was so much more interesting than Arora, but his little child mind couldn’t understand nor explain why that was. 

   Until he was ten years old~

  He had been looking at Disney videos on his ipad, when he discovered a peculiar video with a rainbow flag in the thumbnail. He thought that all the colors on the flag looked pretty, so he decided to click on it. 

   He heard phrases in the video that he had never heard before, such as; gay, trans, homosexaul, bisexual, pansexual, and so many more and he had absolutely no idea what they meant. Even though he had no clue, he watched the entire video. After the video was over, he got out his red notebook with Disney stickers plastered haphazardly all over the front and back cover. 

  He decided to rewatch the video again and write down any words that he didn’t understand, and look them up after he was finished. Logan is gonna be so proud of me, he had said to himself thinking of his quiet nerdy best friend. 

  He spent the entire day learning things like pride, non-bianary, gender fluid, and more. He felt like he had opened his eyes to a completely new world and he was so excited about it. He had no idea there were so many different types of amazing people. He was so… Excited! 

  His parents were busy with work downstairs, and his brother was over at a friends house so he took it upon himself to spend his entire day learning and watching videos on this community of people. It was impossible to learn everything in a day, but he was determined to try. 

  He listened to and read people’s stories on the internet, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t cry. Why were people so mean to them? He had asked himself, why are there so many mean people in the world? They were just being themselves, why couldn’t people just be proud of them? What Roman didn’t know at the time, is that he would have a few stories of his own like that in the future. 

  A few weeks later, he was on the swings with his best friend Logan. Swinging back and forth with the breeze as they talked about anything and everything, non-sense and Disney, jokes and laughter, serious topics and funny stories, until Roman decided to bring up some of the stuff he had learned to his friend. He kicked his legs back and forth carelessly as he spoke, “hey, Lo?” Logan had looked at him, as Logan wasn’t swinging nearly as much as Roman was but more just drifting to and fro with the wind as he talked with his flamboyant best friend, “yeah Ro?”

Roman grinned for a minute before speaking, “have you heard of LGBTQ+?”

Logan had nodded at his question, “yeah, my dads talk about it all the time.” He said in a nonchalant manner. Roman groaned, frustrated “AWWW, I thought I learned about something that you didn’t..” Roman stopped his swinging, skidding his bright red shoes across the ground to stop himself.

 Logan chuckled and pushes up his glasses, ���sorry Ro, but I know everything.” 

  Roman stared at Logan throwing his hands about as he spoke, “that's not fair.” he said the last word dragging it out like it was the end of the world. 

  Roman had met Logan’s dads before, yet he never knew what LQBTQ+ meant and he didn’t know that a lot of people thought it was a bad thing. He thought it was awesome that Logan’s dads loved each other, even before he knew that they loved each other if that made any sense. To Roman it made complete sense in his ten year old mind.

  Roman then got an idea, “Hey Logan, there was some things I didn’t understand when I was lookin’ up stuff about it. Do you think you could answer some of my questions?”

Logan looked a little excited to teach Roman, and they spent the rest of the time on the swings not swinging but talking. Talking about something that would be very important to them one day. 

  7 years later~ 

  Roman was seventeen, and he was the most popular kid in his highschool, everyone had taken a liking to his outgoing nature. His best friends Logan, Patton, and Virgil were popular right along with him. There was only one thing that bothered Roman, his sexuality. He was terrified, from the bottom of his heart he was terrified because ne knew that he was not straight in any sense of the term. He was as curved as a rollercoaster and the ride made him feel woozy and nauseous.

     He knew that the vast majority of his school would hate him for being the way he was, so you know what he did? Like the scared little closeted boy he was he ran into the deepest corner of that closet and hid like a little toddler in hide and seek, only he wasn’t a toddler and this wasn’t hide and seek, this was hide for your life. At least that was what it had felt like to him. 

  He knew that his friend would accept him, since Patton had come out to them in freshman year as Pan to him, Logan, and Virgil, it had lead to Logan coming out to them as gay demisexual, and then a year later in there sophmore Virgil coming out to them as gay. They promised to support each other and never ever tell anyone else. It was like their own little pride group, only Roman was an ally… Or so the others had thought.

       Roman knew that they would accept him. Of all people who knew that he could come out to them, and it was okay. But his heart leapt up into his throat and his knees buckled and the mere thought of it. He could just imagine their judgemental glances, thinking he was only saying it because he wanted to feel included, “you’re not really gay.” He would imagine them saying, “are you doing this for attention?” “if you were gay then why have you been telling us about all your straight crushes for years?” He had made up crushes to stay in the closet “you’re so dramatic! Just shut up and we can forget you even tried to pull off this whole charade.” 

   I part of him knew they would never do that, but it was a very small part of him, it was like a tiny ball of light shining in the darkness of self deprecation that he had created within himself. He pretended to be so confident, he was a great actor ‘but that was the only thing he was great at’ He would say to himself like a father scolding a child for doing something wrong, only the child was priding within himself and the father was a cold old man with no joy and wanted his son to live a dry cold life never thinking higher than an inch of himself. 

“Princey? You okay there?...” he hadn’t noticed that he had started to zone out with another one of his spirals into the dark clouded space that was his mind. ‘No’ he said to himself and only himself. Virgil would think he was such an attention seeking whore if he ever told him anything that went on in his head, “I’m fit as a fiddle Hottopic, sorry I zoned out, I was just thinking about Valerie. Her hair looked so pretty today.” He said with a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Valerie was amazing, she was really fun to hang out with and yes her hair actually did look pretty today but to Roman he felt nothing but platonic love for her. And when he would pretend to have a crush on her, especially to one of his best friends….. He felt as though someone was stabbing a knife into his heart, his weak little heart that throbbed at anything and everything. He was so weak he would tell himself. His heart was a bruised and pin pricked as a baby rabbit that got into a fight with a porcupine, and oh how his heart loved to jump and do summersaults like the little rabbit it was in the presence of the emo sitting next to him.   

  But the thing was it hurt so so much worse when he lied to Virgil. Virgil was so caring, he was kind to all of them, and he loved hanging out with him. Virgil was just so funny, and cute, and smart, and handsome, and- he stopped his thoughts, halting them and pushing them as far back into his mind as they would go. It was getting a lot harder to get rid of them lately. Virgil got a sad sort of look in his eyes but Roman didn’t notice, he was to busy gay panicing. “Thats sweet Roman. You two would be cute together ...” Virgil trailed off, sort of spacing out himself as Roman had just a few moments ago. 

  Roman clapped his hands together and stood up with a plastered smile on his face, startling Virgil almost knocking him off the bench that they had been sitting on. They were at the park, just talking. Roman turned toward Virgil and uttered a quick apology before spilling his idea to his monochromatic friend, “We should go get ice cream!!” Virgil chuckled at Roman’s excitement, and blushed under his porcelain foundation, “sure thing, if you promise to stop yelling” Virgil pulled on his hoodie strings, “people are starting to stare.” he said the last part with breathless sort of panicked whisper only loud enough just for Roman to catch it. 

   They spent the rest of the day just walking around town, laughing and enjoying the company of one another. Roman’s little heart jumped into his throat everytime he heard that beautiful laugh of Virgil’s, it was like looking at the sky and letting the sun hit your face. You can’t open your eyes and look directly at it though, because you might go blind at its unending beauty. Even if Virgil didn’t think so, he was the sun, the moon, the stars, and the clouds all bundled up in one amazing person and oh how he shined. 

     He was always there when you needed him and he was the most hard working person Roman knew, even if Virgil ran into days where he couldn’t even speak because of his anxiety disorder Roman thought he was so strong to have even got out of bed on those days. And he made sure to tell Virgil how strong he was everyday, and if Virgil couldn’t find his voice that day. Roman would speak for him to faceless strangers at school who wanted to speak with Virgil, although Logan and Patton would do that as well, it seemed to have affected Virgil more when Roman did it. It made Virgil feel warm and gooey on the inside, feelings that someone with a hard emo persona like his should never let themselves have but he had them and he loved how they made him feel. But he could never feel that about Roman, because Roman would never feel that way about him and that wasn’t something that he could change and that was just the way the world had to fuck him over.

  The universe had made a little emo gay boy who was obsessed with My Chemical Romance and black eyeshadow, fall in love with his straight best friend. What a painful story trope. Only his best friend wasn’t actually straight, a fact that he was oblivious to, and this wasn’t a cheesy romance story this was their lives. Virgil looked down at hits ice cream, enjoying the treat quietly as he listened to Roman gush and rant about Hamilton or whatever musical he had decided to talk about. 

They had arrived at Virgil’s house and said their goodbyes, with halfwitted insults with no venom in the words. It was their usual routine and they were both content with the way their relationship was. But they were just content, both of them wanted more but they would never admit that to themselves or each other. Roman walked home, with everything swirling around in his head and he laughed with a sort of dark emptiness. What a day.

To be continued~ 

OH MY GOSH THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE!!! Idk how much fun it was to read or how many people will actually read it, but I hope at least a few people enjoy it. this first part was out earlier than I had expected! When I get the next part out then I will link it on this part and tag anyone who wants to know when it comes out. I hope you enjoyed~ my friend that pitched me some ideas: @akane-mukami she is amazing and beautiful please go show her some love!

taglist:

@mostpeopleannoyne 

@www-dot-ohshit-dot-com 

@icequeenoriginal

@espepspes 

@rats-this-username-is-taken

Green~~

[master-of-the-opera-house]

(Franz Ferdinand as a teenager, presumably late 1870s. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek on their wedding day, 1900. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek, undated. Franz Ferdinand and Sophie Chotek, early 1910s.)

As anyone who bothers knows, ever since my trip to Sarajevo, I rediscovered the Archduke whose assassination caused WWI and shaped the modern world as we know it. But I want to take a day in this month (April is Autism Acceptance Month, after all) to say something that I've noticed in my attempts to uncover Franz Ferdinand's story.

First off, I'd like to say that we probably can’t accurately, flat-out diagnose historical figures. Simply because what we have left of them often doesn't tell the whole story, and also because we wouldn't know, first-hand, what they were experiencing. And also because we're not professionals; this isn’t exactly the same as self-diagnosis. But I also acknowledge that science and medicine has come a long way, and many things that historical figures were going through could possibly fit the criteria for certain disabilities and/or illnesses as we know them today. It's something people have discussed about multiple historical figures, but so far, I've yet to see anyone entertain the notion of Franz Ferdinand POSSIBLY being neurodivergent. Maybe it's because we tend to attach neurodiversity or disability to masters as a way to explain their genius (another suitcase to unpack another day). But the thing about neurodiversity - and autism, specifically, in this case - is that anyone can be neurodivergent/autistic. Even royal victims of assassinations whose deaths mean more to history than their lives.

((That being said, most of this post is going to be based on my own experiences as an autistic person, because I can’t speak for the experiences of other autistic people that may apply. If anyone else has anything to add please feel free to drop me an ask or a message, I’d love to discuss this!))

One of the things I've noticed in almost all of Franz Ferdinand's photographs ((images/slide before cut)) is that he's always got his hands clasped together like that. I guess it can be brushed off as something someone who is unsure of what to do with their hands in photographs might do, but I haven't really seen anyone do it quite as much as him. I do speculate he might've been stimming - a common experience in autistic people. Stimming is a repetitive action that brings comfort or relief to the individual. I think it’s notable how he always reverted back to this pose or action as seen from how these photographs were clearly taken at different points in his life, perhaps indicating that he might have found something comforting about it. Interlacing or rubbing one's fingers/hands together is quite a common form of stimming, and can be quite subtle - which would make sense for someone who probably couldn't resort to a more overt action for it being seen as improper or unseemly as someone who came from both royal circles, and a more repressive time.

These excerpts recount a few details from his childhood, particularly, picking up strong interests, being fond of the rituals and routine of religion, and struggling in school. These strong interests - special interests, to those on the spectrum - will be further explored later. Autistic people tend to find solace in routine, and I think it is of no secret that autistic children may have trouble in school, especially if the environment isn't suited to their needs (education for upper-class children in the past was especially tedious), or if the content covered isn't in line with their special interests. In Franz Ferdinand's case, these interests would comprise of hunting, architecture and history, at which he would excel in contrast to nearly everything else taught to him, and which he would pursue as an adult. I think it's also worth noting, as per the last piece of text in the second slide, that this inaptitude for just sitting down and studying was something that followed him well into adulthood. This was in spite of contemporaries observing that he was otherwise intelligent and able to approach problems from different perspectives: yet another common autistic trait.

This following set of excerpts I find especially fascinating, because I think they're almost transparent about how his interests go beyond 'neurotypical hobbies’, simply because of how “obsessive” he appeared about them, centering his life around them ((organising a world tour with one of its main purposes being to hunt, for instance, or planning family trips around his hunting)) and investing a lot of resources into them as the books discuss. He's also said to be fond of collecting things extensively here, assorted things that pique his interest (yet another interest that manifested itself from his childhood), which is also pretty common amongst autistic people who may grow very attached to certain items.

This next set of excerpts stings of the struggles of being neurodivergent, and hit the closest to home for me. The first three pieces of text consist of people's perceptions of him: 'mad', 'insane', and 'strange' seem to be the most frequent accusations (so frequent, in fact, that there’s a significant portion on it on his wikipedia page which I have not seen with other historical figures), which is..... Telling, especially from a time in which mental health isn't really understood. They're what people conclude about someone who doesn't quite behave in the way they're used to, even if there's often a good reason why said people behave in such different ways. The way neurodivergent people often behave, for a lack of understanding of social cues, sensory sensitivity, to name a few possible reasons. One of the most common accusations of his personality, of course, were of his explosive temper and generally temperamental disposition. Whilst I do think those were definitely his personal shortcomings, I also do think some of his infamous outbursts may have really been meltdowns, explaining their unpredictability, especially to people who didn’t know what his triggers were ((and, regrettably, we don’t have many clues in that area either because such things were simply not watched out for and thus not recorded)). He was visibly very uncomfortable in social settings, too, as seen from these quotes, and certainly didn't pick up on how to win favour in them, which I think a lot of autistic people ((stereotypically, but not always inaccurately)) have difficulty with. You can see more of this in the 6th and 7th excerpts, where his beloved wife Sophie figured out a set of social cues that worked for him and guided him in such interactions throughout their relationship. He very much returned the affection, so much so that he was rather possessive or obsessive about her, blowing up at any offenses directed at her, defending her where her position would not allow it and ultimately further sacrificing his reputation for his love. Needless to say, such behaviour (again!) wasn’t understood by those around him, though he loved her boundlessly and probably didn’t care, and vice versa. Sometimes, it led to other inappropriate or unwelcomed acts on his part as observed in the 9th piece of text, but ‘Franzi’ and ‘Soph’ made it work anyways, which is more than what can be said about many of their contemporaries.

Another thing I’m pointing out on this post is his rather black-and-white view of the world, as demonstrated in the rather unpleasant ((but admittedly quite funny in its tactlessness)) quote in the last excerpt. Oftentimes, autistic people can find it hard to grasp nuances, categorising things into 'good' or 'bad'. I think that's certainly how he saw the world and the people around him, leading to rather strong opinions in both the private and political sphere that, needless to say, wasn't a very popular trait of his, being very generous towards people he favoured and outrightly hostile to people he didn’t. One thing these slides don't address are records of sensory sensitivity, many of which can be found in his ((rather extensive)) travel diaries whenever he'd pay special attention to how a certain place smelt weird or was really noisy. All that being said, I don't think it was a surprise Franz Ferdinand wasn't a very well-liked person at all, shunned in life and unmourned in death, simply because people didn't have the resources to understand where his differences and shortcomings were stemming from. I just wish he had it better than to go to his grave with such a tainted reputation. But I guess this is also the best I can give him now, to try to understand his story through different lenses, something he was known to do in his own life. After all, difference is something we're both accustomed to. And I'm glad he managed to find fulfilment, especially from the family he built, even in spite of all the struggles thrown at him, in spite of his untimely end, because hey, that's the least he deserved. 🌈♾️

(All text images are taken from the books The Assassination of the Archduke by Greg King and Sue Woolmans, and The Archduke and the Assassin by Lavender Cassels.)

[linkspooky]

Shigaraki’s Decay

One of the biggest themes of this arc is how the characters define themselves. What defines them the most, the quirks they were born with, their experiences in the past, the people around them, what burdens they carry? Shigaraki at the moment is facing off against Re-Destro a man who believes that because he was born with a quirk that destroys everything he touches, then he must be capable of nothing more than that. Not only that but during the middle of the fight Shigaraki flashes back to All for One not only telling him the same thing, but encouraging him to see himself that way. 

Does Shigaraki’s decay quirk truly define who he is? Is it only capable of being used for destruction? Let’s analyze Shigaraki’s relationship with his quirk and what it says about his character underneath the cut. 

This is the accusation that Re-Destro makes at Shigaraki, that specifically triggers his flashback not only of the incident of destroying his family, but also All for One encouraging him to hold onto those feelings. That he was born to destroy. That he’s capable of nothing other than destruction because he possesses such a quirk. That he’s empty of all other feelings. 

However, while Shigaraki seems to embrace this narrative the backstory we are shown implicitly contradicts it, especially with the story of how his quirk developed into such a destructive one. 

1. Shigaraki and Dabi

While Dabi’s backstory was not confirmed this arc the fact that he is most likely Todoroki Touya makes him a significant foil to Tomura. To whit, both of them were born in abusive households where a patriarchal father figure wielded absolute control over the household. Both of them had their lives, and who they could become dominated by their father figures (Tenko was told he could not be a hero, Touya was not allowed to become anything other than Endeavor’s heir and if he couldn’t become that he was a failure). Both of them are heirs to  heroic legacies they never wanted to be a part of, Touya had Endeavor’s rivalry with All Might forced on him, and Tenko did not even know he was Shimura’s grandchild but was picked up by All for One specifically for that reason.

 Both of them become the victims of their father’s grudges, Endeavor’s inferior complex over All Might caused him to train his children like they were his own pet raise your own hero project, and Kotaro’s abandonment by Nana caused him to take his feelings out on Tenko for just wishing to be a hero when he was five. Both of their father figures had rivalries with All Might and trained them as a successor to surpass All Might, Endeavor as a fellow hero, and All for One as a villain. 

Dabi was raised as a hero before he was raised as a person, Shigaraki was raised to be a villain before he was cared for as a child in need. 

All of that being said, if only one detail was revealed about Dabi who foils Shigaraki so significantly this arc, then it must be an important detail. The one reveal we get is that Dabi’s quirk is fundamentally compatible with his own body. 

In fiction, a foil is a character who contrasts with another character, usually the protagonist, to highlight qualities of the other character.

Horikoshi would not be asking us to draw these comparisons between the two of them, unless he was trying to inform us about Shigaraki through how much he has in common with Dabi. 

That for both of them, their quirks are incompatible with their bodies. Even though they were raised specifically because of those quirks by both of their respective father figures to be their heirs, those quirks which are supposed to define them are fundamentally at odds with their beings. 

Not only that but Dabi comes into contact with someone who just like him, was raised to only value the strength of his quirk, who was born and spent years doing nothing more than developing the strength of his quirk with little contact with the outside world not allowed to have a life other than his quirk, and who defines his identity entirely by his quirk and Dabi mocks this idea. 

He finds it pitiful to define yourself entirely by your quirk, that the quirk you were born with makes you who you are. After all his father bred him for a quirk, Apocrypha’s mindset smells like Endeavor’s, that of his abuser’s. 

If there is a difference between the two foils right now, it is that Dabi rebels entirely against what his abuser wanted him to be he was raised a hero and became a villain instead whereas Shigaraki still embraces the narrative that All for One gave him too much he’s a villain, but he has no interest in building an empire like All for One just tearing one down. As an heir he turned out a little too well. All for one encouraged him to destroy and set him loose, and now he does not find identity in anything other than destruction. 

2. Shigaraki’s Quirk is Incompatible with his Body

The character’s quirks obviously influence their identity a little bit, they are characters whose personalities were thought up by Horikoshi to compliment their quirks after all. So their quirks mean something in regards of who they are. Compress is a classic sleight of hand magician, his quirk makes things disappear and become smaller with a touch to where he can hide them underneath his sleeve. Twice is extremely lonely and he just wants a companion and self acceptance, his quirk literally makes copies of both himself and other people he knows well enough to measure them with personalities based on how well he knows them. Dabi is cool headed, and yet at the same time quick tempered and quick to lash out with his flames like he’s hiding seething anger underneath it all at something, therefore he makes flames that are blue a cool color, and yet burn hotter, so much it burns him underneath his skin. 

However, this arc thematically also brings up the question if the league was defined their entire lives by their quirk. Twice was driven insane because his quirk made him forget who he was or if he was the real one. Toga has a natural predilection towards blood because her quirk works by sucking blood and stealing the appearances of others. 

While that idea is brought up it’s also contradicted. Their quirks aren’t the only thing that influenced them as clearly all of these characters are heavily influenced by their environments as well. (The tagline of the whole volume is “all it takes is one bad day). Himiko was raised to repress herself and nobody seriously tried to accept her for who she was, therefore Himiko eventually explodes and lives to express the worst of herself not caring what others think because they were never going to accept her anyway. Then Himiko finds people who does accept her, and she starts to improve, while she still does things on whims, she follows rules, listens to commands, and is extremely loyal to a certain set of people. Twice is able to make copies of himself again because at his lowest point, he was able to find people who accepted him and wants to protect those people. 

They are influenced by their quirks, but at the same time the environment around them influences who they are just as much and can even influence their quirks. Their personal development causes their quirks to grow. 

So, as I said above if Dabi’s quirk is incompatible and using it harms his own body, then the same can most likely be said for Shigaraki. Let’s briefly touch upon his past once more. 

In Shigaraki’s origin chapter it’s revealed that Tenko had a chronic allergy condition that caused his eyes to water, and his face to become itchy. Not only that but he itched at his face constantly, which only caused the itching to get worse. While it’s unknown where this allergy came from, it’s also stated at the same time that Tenko had not manifested a quirk yet even though he was five years old (most quirks manifest at four). 

My theory is that Tenko’s quirk actually did activate when he was four, but at that point he could not manifest it slowly. The reason being that Tenko’s quirk is controlled by his emotions. He did not reach his breaking point until he was five years old. Before that point he was just constantly uneasy, and anxious about his environment due to his father’s controlling nature. therefore, his decay manifested in his own body but only as an itch that looked like allergies around his face. Instead it was decaying his skin slowly, and only barely noticeable because he had not reached the breaking point. He decays his own body subconsciously, hence the constant itching and facial scarring that only worsened over the years. 

It makes sense as human bodies are about as incompatible with decaying, as they are with fire. There are several instances of quirks not being perfectly suited for the human body and carrying flaws like this, Deku breaks his own bones because his muscles are too strong, Ochako gets nauseous due to not being fit for zero gravity, however it’s also special in Dabi and Shigaraki’s case because it’s thematic. 

Tenko’s decay only manifests in his hands when he’s reached his limits emotionally. The reason it never manifested before was Tenko was holding it back. Until he reached the point where he could not take it anymore. 

All for One even says this directly, that Tenko keeps his own quirk in check subconsciously. Hence why we see so much destruction the first time he loses control at his own family, and yet several years later when he’s fighting Aizawa we see a much milder form of his quirk. 

Fighting against Aizawa Shigaraki gives him a light rash on his arm, and yet in a different situation when Shigaraki is pushed to a much more emotional extreme he decays people’s entire bodies in an instant.

There’s also proof he can manifest decay in other parts of his body, he’s shown using it with his feet. (Though, this could also be the decay spreading out from his hands after he initially used it). 

Still, this all supports the idea that Shigaraki just subconsciously localizes Decay in his hands, and subconsciously suppresses its strength at all times. Because, decay can spread if he doesn’t control it, and also because if he’s not careful he could decay his own body as well. He only removes the limiter when he’s pushed to a breaking point by extreme amounts of stress. 

There is however, another thematic idea suggested by Shigaraki subconsciously holding back decay, and purposefully limiting his own power. That he still feels guilt for what he destroys, and therefore even if it’s only in the back of his head some part of him tries to hold back.

For someone who exists only to destroy, Shigaraki is extremely careful with what he touches to the point where he holds everything with only a few fingers to limit his destruction. It shows in every gesture of his body how much he purposefully holds himself back. We are told time and time again in his backstory, that Shigaraki felt an intensive amount of guilt for what happened to his family due to his quirk. 

When he’s brought back to All for One, and confronted with what he did Shigaraki is literally so disgusted with himself he violently retches and vomits. 

When people are being violent to him, Shigaraki’s first response was not to lash out, but rather to hold himself back intentionally and suppress that urge. 

When father’s hand gets knocked off of his face much later in the future, Shigaraki apologizes to him, and then more importantly starts to excoriate again due to the stress as we see him itching himself. 

The hands make him remember his family, and therefore he feels restrained and burdened by constant guilt, and self disgust. He feels nauseous for even living. 

All for One even said directly the hands were something meant to restrain him, keep his quirk in check most likely so he never tried to turn it against All for One. Shigarki probably feels a great deal of guilt for what he did subconsciously, no matter what he may say about himself, and because of that until this point held a great deal of his quirk back so he would not lose control like he did with his family. 

Which means Shigaraki does not delight in destruction the way he claims to, he feels self disgust, and genuine remorse for what he destroys and because of that he is constantly sick with himself. The last villain Shigaraki faced off against was Chisaki, who wanted to rid the world of quirks. He also was somebody who like Tomura could completely destroy someone with just a touch of his fingers. What does Shigaraki do? Cut off his hands. 

Why? Because he hates him. 

However, Chisaki and Tomura have several things in common. They were both raised by villainous organizations (yakuza, and All for One), both of them want to carry on the legacy of the man who raised him and restore a crumbling empire to its former glory, both of their quirks are extremely similar. 

Shigaraki’s particular dislike for Chisaki could also be an extension of his hatred for himself, and what does he do to Chisaki? Cut his hands off. Rid him of the destructive quirk that he used so freely. Which is probably also what Shigaraki wants to do to himself on some level, he just protected that desire onto Chisaki. 

There’s much more evidence to suggest that Shigaraki is in conflict with himself, just like his decay quirk is incompatible with his body, his philosophy of destroying everything is also incompatible with who he is as a person. As much as he indulges in destruction, he also loathes it, and loathes himself for destroying. Then, why destroy in the first place? 

3. The Psychological Itch

Once again Narrative is an important theme in these chapters. It’s not just subtext but literal text directly spoken by the characters, the MLA is trying to create a narrative, and the League of Villains are contradicting that narrative. 

Therefore narrative =/= reality, and even a character’s personal narrative will not one hundred percent reflect the reality. As I’ve already pointed out there are several inconsistencies in Shigaraki’s own personal narrative, but it’s important to realize Shigaraki is not using his own he’s adopted All for One’s. He is not choosing to embrace his own identity, rather believing he is when he’s really just reacting to the narrative that All for One set up for him. 

Shigaraki was in need of validation for who he was. Because he was not accepted, because he was rejected entirely by that household he felt a constant unease, an itch that he could not scratch. Just like his own body rejects his quirk, Shigaraki also was rejected by everyone around him and therefore could not develop healthily his own sense of self.

Tenko, an observant kid realizes that everyone around him is rejecting him for who he is. That he cannot be himself as long as he remains in this household. Not only is he forbidden from being the one thing he wants to be, he’s also violently punished. It’s a good enough reason to feel constantly anxious, and at unease with his environment. What Tenko seeks is to be told that he’s not wrong, that it’s okay to be who he is. 

Shigaraki reflecting on the scene tells us directly in narration that destroying that household, everybody around him, made the itch go away. That therefore the itch must have been his suppressed desire to destroy, and what he really wanted all along was to just destroy that house and he was finally indulging on his true desires. 

However, literally the next scene in Shigaraki’s flashback completely contradicts that. 

The itch comes back. If Destroying made the itch go away, then why does it come back almost immediately after Shigaraki runs away from his house? If destroying everything around him creates freedom from himself and freedom from his itch, then why does it keep coming back? 

The itch is a metaphor in part, for Shigaraki and the cycle of abuse he is caught up in. Here is the thing about abuse victims, they are not always palatable to people’s tastes. They do not present themselves in a way that is either pure good victim or pure bad victim. 

Abuse does make people want to hurt other people. It makes them want to lash out, because otherwise they carry the wounds for their abuse on them all the time and are in desperate need to express that pain somehow. At times it feels they can only either repress themselves entirely, or lash out, and neither of those does anything but make them feel better temporarily. People feel better after they lash out, but it does not solve the problem. 

The cycle of abuse is something Shigaraki is caught up in. Kotaro was abused by his mother when she abandoned him. Kotaro is still a victim, it’s just he is making Shigaraki suffer worse, by lashing out at Tenko and hurting him just because of the reminder of his mother he sees in Tenko. He deliberately even says that this is what heroes do, hurt their own families, when he hits Tenko. It’s a simple venting of his feelings towards his mother by lashing them out at someone else. 

Venting does make people feel better, but it never solves the problem itself which is why the itch never goes away for Shigaraki. He lives with wounds and scars covering his body, and Shigaraki feels an itch, so he agitates the scars, picks at them, but he only ever makes the scars worse and reopens them in the long run. He never tries to heal, he only tries to distract himself from the pain. This is also, exactly what All for One encouraged him to do. He says line for line do not heal. 

We also see the prolonged effects of All for One’s encouragement in Shigaraki’s flashback chapter. All for One lies to him, he tells him that the itch is his own destructive impulse, rather than a reaction to an abusive and unsafe environment and his own trauma. 

Then, because venting does make the itch go away temporarily, because venting does relieve the piled up stress of abuse even if it’s unhealthy in the long run Shigaraki ends up believing him.

It’s a narrative that All for One gives Shigaraki. Because what did Shigaraki want, he tohught if one person saved him, if they tried to help him the itch would go away. He thought the itch would go away if his household accepted him for who he was. He just wanted person to tell him it was okay to be him.

This is what Tenko believes that All for One is doing for him. That he really is the first person who accepted Shigaraki for who he was, and told him it was okay for him to be himself. That that self is just a person with a natural impulse to destroy, and everything else in society was holding him back and that All for One was the only person who would ever accept him for who he was.

All for One took advantage of that part of Tenko to force his narrative onto him. Tenko was not naturally like that, All for One remade him in his own image. He never accepted who Tenko was as a person, he literally killed his old self and renamed him symbolically. He says from the start his only intention was to make Tenko not into a person, but a symbol who only lusts for destruction. 

Shigaraki believes that he was naturally that way, but we see in the flashback itself All for One admitting that he’s purposefully making Shigaraki into that person. It contradicts what Shigaraki writes of his own narrative (I wanted to murder my father, it was not a tragedy). 

Therefore being born with his quirk does not determine who Shigaraki is, rather it’s a narrative that All for One has given to him, and one Shigaraki embraces in response to his trauma. 

Once again to draw a parallel to Eri, we are shown that Eri’s quirk is unstable and out of control. It’s potentially dangerous and can even rewind someone into nonexistence. Chisaki says it’s unnatural and can only exist to harm others. However, her quirk does not exist in a vaccuum she’s also in an environment that is perpetually out of control.

Before that she was in an environment with an abusive mother who literally abandoned her and threw her to the head of the Yakuza when she hurt someone in a way that was only a freak accident. She was in an environment where Chisaki encouraged her to believe that she would only hurt other people who came to save her, that it would be her fault for hurting them, and that she was utterly helpless. Therefore she could not control her quirk at all and it became wildly unstable. Chisaki told her her quirk was an unnatural, horrible thing, and Eri intenernalized that idea and believed him. 

However, Deku calls it a kindhearted quirk and just from hearing those words Eri’s quirk that could only destroy for that point begins to change. 

Therefore, is quirks can change based upon the environment and how the person views themselves, it’s likely that Shigaraki’s quirk is meant to do much more than decay as well.