Do you think Banjo is the type of person who hides his problems behind a clown mask?
The guy acts like a bit of comedy relief, but I think he's the kind of person to face his problems head-on. I don't think he uses humor as a coping mechanism. We never see him do that for himself. He's just a loud guy
Look at how he first appears to Midoriya
He's loud, and it steals Midoriya's attention. But he's calling him out on why he's messing up
But as a character's debut, the first things he does are:
Call out Midoriya for trying to do things alone, when Yoichi's first message to him was that he wasn't
Tell him that if he can compose himself, things typically work out
Understands Midoriya's side of things, and tells him he knows (like lacking a mouth)
And once he says those two previous things, he exhales, and his eyes show their pupils properly
The parting advice he gives Midoriya is a reiteration of the second point: It's okay to be mad. What's important is controlling your heart.
Blackwhip is a Quirk that responds to the holder's emotions. Like other Quirks, but Blackwhip goes out of control when the user isn't able to get a grip on themselves
Banjo used his Quirk effectively. He'd have to live that advice to pass it on to Midoriya, back when Abilities were starting to become normal, but Japan was still wrecked. And we know that Quirks are influenced by, and influence, the holder's personality.
Banjo would have to be able to be honest with himself, understand his emotions, and has the maturity to say it's okay to be mad. Just control it.
When he said that for the first time, it actually surprised me. Everyone in fiction or reality says "Don't be mad", but a character on his debut and says it's okay to be that. I never heard anyone say that controlling your emotions and outputting them in a healthy manner is what matters. People just say not to he negative or annoying, because it's inconvenient; but Banjo went past that.
And when he fades, he tells Midoriya he's got this. He reminds him that they're all behind him.
Whenever he speaks, he doesn't make the receiver feel bad, or speak down to them. He understands them, and gives the next step in a familiar, friendly way.
On his debut, he told Midoriya to control his heart, and to remember he wasn't alone. Here, he tells him he should try understanding their Quirks better.
He's actually got a mature way of seeing things. He's an adult, and being the holder between Shinomori and En, he wouldn't be able to deal with either of them if he wasn't mature about himself. Shinomori probably wouldn't choose someone who can't be honest with himself upfront, after spending almost half his life for OFA. And En is young, prone to panic, and a guy who acts like his problems aren't there or funny wouldn't help that.
I can visualize Banjo sitting at a small fire with Shinomori, having an honest, calm talk about life (until Shinomori says the wrong thing and Banjo yells something about it). But not Banjo trying to push his problems down with a hearty laugh, and Shinomori being okay with that.
When Midoriya used his Quirk for the first time, Banjo did get loud at the start, but he did lecture him in a way that was kinda teacher-mentor-ish.
I actually like the way Banjo talks about his observances. He's got the demeanor of a good teacher, he's clear, and direct. He's light-hearted about serious things, but doesn't diminish them. He just approaches it in a way that you aren't feeling the pressure, and can feel like it's possible.
He seems to have this habit of being loud to get people's attention, and simmers down once he has it. He's never indirect or leaving the addressed to figure out the answer on their own, he gives it outright.
When Midoriya used Blackwhip for the first time, Banjo was all "You got it all wrong!" and then explained things. Since he felt himself fading, he could've been talking louder to compensate himself past the daze he felt. To make sure he was talking, heard, and to keep himself awake
When the first Three made the void silent because Kudo and Bruce didn't want to help, Banjo broke it with what Midoriya should do next
When Shinomori got yoinked, the first thing Banjo did was report it in a panic to Midoriya. This just tells Midoriya he really has to be careful now, because OFA can really be stolen. Even if Banjo just panics and doesn't say that aloud
Every time Banjo is facing some kind of problem, he doesn't let others panic too hard. He's not pressuring about problems, and steps back to let Midoriya figure things out.
When Midoriya was running himself into the ground, Banjo was one of the vestiges that didn't show up to tell him to rest. He already understood how Midoriya saw things, and was doing them his own way
Rather than trying to be a clown, I think Banjo is just a friendly person. He's honest with others and with himself, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to utilize Blackwhip right, or be the holder between a sagey hermit and young, scared adult.
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(this is a bit long and...a bit angsty I guess!)
Eddie knows he's trailer trash. It's like, an undisputed fact. He's dirt poor, with zero prospects, a criminal record and half criminal family, and definitely (one thousand percent) punching above his weight with Steve.
Steve's awesome. Rich, hilarious, friendly and brave and so so fucking loyal it hurts. Eddie's seen Steve's every personification of those traits expressed in a million ways, and he's well aware of how little he has to offer in return. He's always been aware of his faults, having had them pointed out on a daily fucking basis since before he could remember.
And the selfish, greedy, unlovable gremlin that Eddie is, won't can't let this relationship with Steve go until he has to, until Steve is the one to end it. Which won't happen, not if Eddie can help it. Not if Eddie can twist, reshape and alter himself into something that Steve can tolerate.
He knows it's woefully one sided, he's not stupid after all. He knows what it's like to be the clingy, weird kid that's impossible to get rid of, the boundary tester, the motor mouth, the freak. He knows that there's a not small part of Steve that's embarrassed of him, that appreciates it when Eddie tones himself down to something reasonably fucking normal.
Shit, one of his only solid memories of his mom is her shoving him at Wayne and begging him to 'take that fucking kid away' from her. And if his own mama couldn't love him then who the fuck could? So he doesn't blame Steve at all. It's just another fact. Up is up, the earth is round and Eddie is a broken shell masquerading as a semi-functioning adult.
It hurts though, the night he gets it confirmed. It hurts like he's been literally stabbed in the chest when he hears them whispering during movie night, almost six months into their relationship.
Robin's scared that she's losing her best friend, and Steve, assuming that he was asleep, whisper-replying that 'I mean...Eddie's fine, Bobbin, but you're my best friend, my soulmate, I'll never put anyone above us.'
So of course Eddie knows they're not going to have a fairytale ending. There's something intrinsically damaged in Eddie's biology, in his DNA that just renders him as a fond memory waiting to happen. The aberration in Steve's dating history that he'll look back on in a few decades and wonder what the hell he was thinking, (but at least it had been fun at the time?).
But. Eddie'd had the choice, there and then, on what to do.
To get up, walk and lose Steve immediately, or take the coward's way out and pretend he actually was sleeping, that he knows no better, that there's a minute fucking chance that one day Steve could love him, even if everyone around them is tapping their watches and waiting for the inevitable fallout.
And that was the funny thing, if it bought Eddie more time in this bubble, then it was the coward's way every chance he got. So that night he'd stayed still and tried not to curl into a ball and sob when Steve's arm slipped from behind his shoulder and around Robin's instead. He knows his place now, and there was a sick kind of confirmation in that, at least. The timer was set, but there was no telling when the alarm would go off.
And from that night it only escalated further. He set aside his disappointment when their alone time became simply 'alone with Robin' time (unless Steve was horny, at least that was just the two of them). He held it together each time Steve inevitably cancelled or postponed their plans because Robin needed him. He told himself it was fine when they platonically shared a bed during sleepovers with the kids, and Eddie was relegated to babysitter duty downstairs. He sat in the back seat of the car without question, lacing his own fingers together and trying to convince himself that they were joined with Steve's.
He ignored every unknowingly barbed comment that Robin made about 'boys being gross, Steve, how could you do it?', all the while internally begging Steve not to think about it too hard. He pretended he didn't see the triumphant smiles she flashed every time Steve chose her instead, the aching, empty void inside trying to justify itself and coming up short.
He acceded every time without a fight, waiting until he was inevitably alone in his bed at night and could let the agony of loneliness rip him apart, wishing that for once he could be the one chosen first and (despite daydreaming otherwise) knowing that it would never happen. It didn't happen, not for people like him.
He spent nights sleeping in his van to give Wayne and Claudia privacy (because Dustin was a nosy little fucker and they weren't ready to tell him just yet), and wished that he could be at Steve's instead, but knowing that he'd be interrupting their time together. He told Steve that he loved him, relishing in the soft, bashful little smile that he got in return, and squashed any painful, pointless hope of him saying it back.
It was fine, because if it wasn't fine, he would never recover.
Then it was three years into their relationship and holy hell Eddie would never think of not saying it. It bubbled under his skin and was branded in every atom of his existence, and if it made Steve feel good to hear it, so much the better. It was ok that Steve never said it back, it was. Steve must like Eddie enough, he wouldn't have stayed for so long if he didn't, and that was enough for Eddie.
It was fine that Steve and Robin lived together while Eddie stayed in his own apartment. If Steve wanted to live with him, he'd have asked, or at least hinted. As it was, Eddie spent most of his time juggling shitty part-time jobs and a tattoo apprenticeship, saving every cent he could after rent, in case one day he was lucky enough to get the chance to share their home.
He skipped food on their dates, opting for just a water (or a side if he had enough), as paying for both Steve and Robin's food was enough to clear him out if he wasn't careful. Three failed senior years were almost enough to financially screw him over, but not quite.
He worked long hours, but kept his head above water. It kept him busy anyway, kept his brain from obsessing over not seeing Steve for however many days it had been this time.
And he never complained. Not once. If he did, he knew that it was the end for him and Steve, and it would fucking break him when it happened. Cowardice was Eddie's middle name, if you cut him he oozed it before he bled blood.
He'd perfected it.
So when Steve and Robin came back from another impromptu vacation, and loudly proclaimed in front of their friends, the kids and their parents that they had gotten drunk married in Vegas, Eddie was surprised that he felt anything at all.
But he did.
It didn't quite register at first, until he heard the words 'my husband' out of Robin's mouth and then oh. Oh.
That was something Eddie would never have. He'd never be able to walk down the aisle and proclaim his undying love with Steve in front of their friends and family. They'd never get a first dance, or cut a cake they'd chosen, he'd never hear Wayne's proud speech or know the feeling of Steve slipping a wedding band onto his finger.
That wasn't the world they lived in.
He was an idiot. A delusional, dumb fucking idiot for thinking, hoping that one day the world would be more tolerant. Because it didn't matter.
Steve was Robin's husband, he lived with her, vacationed with her, worked with her and took her to dinners with his parents. Platonic or not, she had another part of him that Eddie could never have.
Even if the world was a kinder place for queer people in general, Eddie would never have been an option for someone like Steve. Of course not. Of fucking course not. Holy shit, he was so fucking dumb. Three failed senior years and he's still shocked at the depths of how fucking stupid he is.
He has to be grateful for what he's got.
So when the newlyweds finally remember he exists, and turn to him with glee and mirth in their eyes, he does his best not to let his shattered, grieving, shadow of a broken fucking heart show.
It wouldn't make a difference, anyway.
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