#over analyzing things no one but me cares about

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[psychemochanight]

More HC because I forgot many :D

Part 1 :D

Again, a little disclaimer:

These are just my favorite HCs, whether made by me or by the fandom, if you don't like any of them, that's completely respectable and you obviously don't have to agree with all or any of them. If you don't like them, just ignore them please, it's not worth arguing over HC about a fictional character.

That said, here are more HC (not all of them yet, but yeah, I'll add them as I remember them):

Dick is the kind of person who is always smiling, even when there is danger. If he's not smiling and cracking jokes, he's completely serious. No one has any problem admitting that they don't want to see that Dick, because he's scary.

Dick hates hospitals, and he hates being sedated even more, even in the batcave.

Years being kidnapped, yep.

His first instinct after waking up and analyzing his situation with his senses without giving any signs of waking up, is to run immediately. If they can avoid it, they never sedate him completely, the times he jumped up from the stretcher without taking into account his injuries were enough to know better.

He sits in the weirdest positions ever.

If he pays more than five minutes of attention to his hair, it's actually wavy, almost curly, if he doesn't, it's almost straight.

He grows his hair long when he is depressed and doesn't feel like taking care of it.

He rarely gives any other signs of being depressed now, so almost no one notices it these days.

He associates aromas with different people.

Sometimes, because of the perfumes worn by his family and friends, he knows that they have been in his apartment.

Yes, he sometimes lives on cereal, but it's definitely not the only thing he knows how to prepare, he just is so tired to cook.

Canonically, in several runs cereal is, in fact, his favorite food, so- besides having a sweet tooth, it helps him stay active (sugar rush 24/7).

He canonically prefers simple, comforting foods, so, another trait of his undiagnosed AUDHD :D

Alfred and Bruce say that Dick has a child's palate, he insists that the problem is not the taste, but the texture... It doesn't help his case.

Obviously he eats healthy food, but it always has to be something simple, he finds very elaborate dishes difficult to eat.

He had a pretty hard time at galas with the fancy food the first few times, until Bruce noticed that Dick wasn't eating and started including simpler dishes on the menu.

This is also why people sometimes think he doesn't know how to cook, because he only makes simple dishes, but it's not because he doesn't know how, it's because it's the only kind of food he likes.

In fact, despite preferring sweet over salty, or even his taste for junk food, Dick is very conscious of what he eats, and always has his head counting protein, calories, sugars and other nutritional values; this way, he keeps his diet stable even if he allows himself these "whims"... when he remembers to eat.

He actually likes stuffed animals, he just doesn't have any. (DC, what are you waiting for to give this man his stuffed elephant?)

Dick is an ambivert.

I would even say that he is more introverted. Not the incorrect definition of people, who confuse introversion with being reserved, shy or not liking to socialize. but the one who needs his time alone to recharge his energy. .

When Dick met Superman, it was despite Batman's "no meta-humans" rule, and his argument when Batman was going to scold him was "he's not a meta-human, he's an alien."

Bruce had to concede the point to the kid for the loophole, and update his rule.

This depends on the run to be canon or not, but I prefer to think that Dick never actually went to school before Bruce, and it was exclusively his charisma that helped him blend in with the other children, as if he had always attended educational institutions.

Although Bruce knew Dick was intelligent, even he was surprised that he was so able to not only catch up, but excel in the educational field, considering he never attended school. More than because of Robin, it was one of his teachers the first one to call him Golden Boy, since he considered him a prodigy.

At Gotham Academy you had to take at least one language class to graduate, and it couldn't be one you already knew, but Dick already knew all the ones in the program, so he had to pretend to learn french.

One of my favorite HCs in the fandom is Dick helping out with the Watchtower's computer system, especially considering it could very well be canon (if only today's writers wouldn't forget that Dick is also an amazing hacker and not just a social skills specialist 🙄).

This mentioned, my personal HC to justify all the things that the writers leave out of the character that were once regular in him (and that now belong to his siblings), is that he himself stops making an effort in these things. When he was Robin, he was alone with Batman, so he had the obligation to not only be on par, but to fill all the spaces that Batman left, so he specialized in everything. Now that he has a full team, he no longer has the obligation to cover everything himself, so he allows himself to just continue filling the remaining spaces, mostly related to the social part (when he's not working alone, of course).

This does not mean that he no longer continues to instruct himself in those skills that his siblings have, he does, he is always learning, but he no longer has the need to demonstrate it in any way, so he just lets people even think that he is incompetent in those areas, even if it is the opposite (it helps a lot when you are underestimated on the field after all).

He invented a few insults during his time as Robin, which somehow became a real vocabulary when other heroes and later civilians started using them.

His puppy eyes are too powerful, even as an adult.

Although everyone jokes that he is old because of all his years of experience in the hero thing, Dick actually looks so young.

On a good or bad day (depending on who you ask), it even happens that people ask for his ID to confirm that he is of legal age (usually for drinking). He never knows whether to feel flattered or offended.

I decided to pretend the suit wasn't a bare-legged leotard, mostly because I like to think that the suit was actually his acrobat suit, just with the red vest on top, and since they always draw the suit with the legs part... U know.

It also depends, considering the current continuity, Dick was now born in more modern times, and the tights now usually have covered legs; but if we still place it in the 40s, then it makes more sense that the suit is like the original.

For comfort, I'll pretend that his legs are covered, also I'll pretend that he has some protection and isn't just walking around with exposed skin to get hurt, even if hitting him with a bullet must be damn difficult because he jumps as a flea.

Toe point and tiptoes, like, A LOT.

He starts babbling random facts about history or math formulas at the most random moments.

He's the kind of person who always knows the answers to people's questions about facts he doesn't really need to know.

"I wonder where the word "'macaroni' originated from"... And he just starts telling you the whole story.

(My father is like that, and I always wonder where he learned all that, my God).

He likes action series. He also likes police and mystery series, but it's a pain to watch this kind of series with him because he keeps guessing the ending and always gets it right.

He also loves black and white movies.

He likes classic rock and jazz music, but has no problem listening to other genres. He also likes pop music, although more bc he likes to annoy his brothers with it.

He is a bit obsessive compulsive, not all the time, and he doesn't have the disorder as such; but sometimes he really needs to be in control of things and follow routines (part of his AUDHD and PTSD speaking for him).

As I said before, I don't think Dick has anger issues, he's just overstimulated, but this doesn't mean he doesn't feel angry or frustrated on many occasions.

When this happens, he has two main ways to let go of his anger... The healthy way is to exercise, train or simply unload his mind while his body is in motion, he also tends to meditate on occasion.

Sometimes it's not so healthy, as he actually lets himself get hurt while training.

The unhealthy way, is to go beat up the thugs.

Sometimes he doesn't let his anger out voluntarily, and ends up exploding against those who don't deserve it. When this happens, it is almost always in verbal form.

Dick doesn't insult directly, but with the eloquence he has, he doesn't need insults to seriously hurt someone.

He can't say that he has never self-harmed, but he doesn't do it in the form of cutting himself, but rather by letting himself get hit or failing to stop particularly painful falls.

Actually, even though he doesn't have the highest self-esteem, he doesn't really have an identity crisis. It doesn't matter that he's a good actor, he never doubts who he is. He doesn't really invent personas in front of anyone, he just shows facets of his personality as appropriate (the only moments where he acts like someone he is not, there is always something of his person even in those roles).

During a certain infamous arc the identity crisis was a little more real, but he recovered from it.

Although he is an acrobat first, he still knows a lot about gymnastics, both men's and also women's actually. More for fun than for training.

Even if he miraculously has free time, instead of resting, he is probably practicing something new.

His friends swear that Dick only stays still when he's dissociating.

And that's all (for now) ✨

I've repeated some of them on purpose to make the explanation more explicit- but I hope most of them still make sense.

[whenlifegivesticks-blog]

The long overdue, extremely lengthy Heroes in Crisis Review. Put on your reading glasses because this is long. I just want to give a little summary, The entire comic is the definition of disrespecting existing characters as well as real people and their problems. I seen better writing from 13 year old wattpad kids who are just getting started on their writing journey. It's hard for me to believe professional writers wrote this. Now onto the detailed review.

Brain rot enjoyment meter (how much I enjoyed it without actually analyzing it) : 7/10

Actual rating: 3/10

I'll go on with the analysis part by part.

first of all characters: Half of them are out of character and the other half are random characters that dc hasn't used in over a decade, we don't care about. Only to kill them off and it has no impact whatsoever as we don't know who these people are plus bunch of one panel cameos of characters for absolute no reason and adds absolutely nothing to the actual plot or story. For example, Red Devil, Tattooed man, Hotspot (i later recognized him from teen titans). I am pretty young person so I absolutely did not know half the characters. And they didn't introduce or reintroduce in this case any of these characters. We barely know what their issues are or why they are at sanctuary.

All characters are out of character or completely dumbed down. Wally's entire character is massacred and even by the end I barely understood what was up with him. I'll expand on this later.

Batgirl, Barbara was just frustrating and felt really empty. Like she was just there and really didn't seem to add anything to the story. At least as a character she doesn't. She felt more like a plot device.

Batman was just ??? but he wasn't that bad but suffers from same thing as Babs. Felt like he was just there as a plot device and character wise he added nothing whatsoever. We don't even see him investigating properly.

superman was downright foul And made no sense. Ok so you're working on the investigation with Diana and Bruce, so what's with the tension and secrecy??? Like Clark is that really you?

and louis lane was just evil, will be explained later.

Hal Jordan made one of the one panel appearances and that one panel was enough to show that the writer knew absolutely nothing about him. I been reading old GL comics and that one panel was just... wow.

the bat kids made cameos and they just copy pasted dialogue for them with little differences.

The comic is only 9 issues and is short so it just doesn't really show off a lot of personality from characters that aren't Harley or booster. And even then these two were just... not very satisfactory.

Second of all, plot: Made absolutely no sense whatsoever, I read the ending twice and still don't know what happened or what's the message.

obvious spoilers:

So, in a heroes mental institute called sanctuary, everyone was found dead other than Harley Quinn and booster gold. Booster saw Harley kill everyone. Harley saw booster kill everyone. So its a murder mystery.

Except the comic is all over the place and does not give any needed or required context so it doesn't really feel anything. Like it immediately pulls you in with no context whatsoever, with characters you aren't allowed to build a connection with.

There's this ridiculous segment where Harley Quinn defeats the trinity like what???? Harley Quinn defeating superman , wonder woman and batman is impossible. Ya telling me Harley is stronger than darksied??? Better plot armor than batman...

and superman comments saying how Harley is just as good as Bruce... I call BS. The writers really trynna convince us Harley is stronger than batman.

like what?

she went toe to toe with booster gold and I'm like??? even with half his powers, booster gold wipes the floor with Harley.

And here's the thing, Barry Allen thinks booster killed everyone. Ya telling me he chose to believe Harley Quinn a known dangerous criminal over booster gold?? Booster gold isn't even a anti hero. he doesn't kill. Plus someone pointed out to me Booster probably experienced all this after he watched a version of batman kill himself in front of Booster. Which explains Booster talking about how he sees the blood on his visor despite nothing being there.

Barbara helps Harley and takes down blue beetle (whose helping booster) like even she chose the psycho Harley to protect over booster??

what they smoking!

Now if you take actual culprit. it was wally. Now the story shows a pretty okish segment of wally's downward spiral to a mental breakdown. Except it still was more tell than show. And the plot made no sense.

Wally had a mental breakdown because he believed everyone at sanctuary was faking their mental illness to make him feel better. That he alone was the crazy one. So he "hacked" the system in place and found recordings for everyone's sessions and lost control of his powers accidentally killing everyone.

Ok I can believe he accidentally killed everyone. He was insane and not in the right mind.

but then the writers make him make a plan to frame Harley and booster so he can have time to release all the footage he found as a way to do good for the world what??? people anonymous confidential therapy sessions to louis lane as a way to do good in exchange for his murders and framing others. He also time traveled to kill himself and get a body??

Wally has a segment where everyone tells him he's hope or something. Plus him reliving his Titan days. Him using the stupid mask. But I can't make a sense of it. Because mentally ill people are more likely to hurt themselves than others. The comic perpetuates harmful stereotypes even if Wally killed by accident.

worst part is the writer make it a good thing showing bunch of cameo characters who came to therapy because they realized they weren't alone due to the released recordings???

so Wally was insane enough to lose control and kill and yet still manage to make a supervillain ass plan to frame and kill himself. the story's point is lost in this nonsense.

Plus Clark didn't tell Bruce or Diana about louis having the recordings and only told them after releasing them to the public. What happened to patient confidentiality??? Do superheroes not have rights? Clark went on a spiel about being a reporter- So being a reporter means stomping other peoples rights and outing their private info. The time travel nonsense didn't make sense even with my drawn diagrams to make sense of it. So I'm just left confused. The conclusion is this vague shit where its ok to get help and hope something.

third thing the premise: The premise is mental health institute yet, the writer shown they know nothing about mental health Sanctuary isn't run by people. its run by an AI. The place has chambers where heroes can go in and make anything they want. Any scenario. Now imagine mentally ill people with no guidance and just using the chambers for whatever they want. Wally was using it to relive his dead family in fantasy lala land. Lagoon boy was reliving his ptsd again and again and again Gnarrk was the only one who it helped and that's because he wasn't mentally ill in the way wally or lagoon were. He was just lost and used it as a guidance because he already knew his own issues. Yet dc tries to frame the chambers as a helpful thing and heroes are getting better You cant expect me to believe that after watching wally ignore the AI's questions and pretend has back with his family in a fantasy. The comic is an insult to mental health.

Again, we don't know why 90% of the heroes are at sanctuary. They are just killed off after one appearance. Plus, Jason canonically never went to therapy. Roy was killed off for shock factor. Green lantern apparently doesn't know what "WILL" is... Harley Quinn's word is taken more than Boosters-

I have so many more things I could say but if I have to list everything wrong in this comic this review would be longer than my future. I DO NOT recommend this comic. It's trash and save your sanity. Not even the retcon of this comic salvaged it. Over all, The only good thing in this was Harley and booster interactions because it was funny. That's it.

[hurtspideyparker]

For a request how about a fluffy winterhawk doing shopping to refill their first aid kit? I imagine between the two of them it sees a lot of use.

The pair walk at a leisurely pace in the 24 hour CVS.

There's a number of odd characters, including themselves, but that's what they get for shopping at 2 am. There's the goth cashier, a man in an oddly tall cowboy hat, a couple of teenagers messing around in the chip section, and of course the two Avengers with blooming bruises from the fight they just finished. Which is really not their fault. I mean, who does crime after midnight? Bad people, probably.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Clint asks while tossing some frozen peas into the basket Bucky is carrying.

"I don't think we'll have enough room."

"Come on man, one Ben & Jerry's isn't gonna break the bank."

"One, really? For both of us? You threw a spoon at my head last time I poked in your pint. I just wanted to try the flavour."

Clint thinks on that.

"Hm, you're right, you're right. We'll do a wrap around at the end and I'll just carry it."

They leave the icy doors and head straight for the first aid aisle. They spot the gauze and bandages first, taking a moment to analyze the different brands, sizes, and types, before Clint takes an arm to the shelf and swipes the entire thing into their basket. Bucky nods approvingly before speaking up.

"This is your fault y'know, you procrastinate."

Clint scoffs, "I'll have you know it was your week to do the shopping."

"The first aid kit's been empty since last week, when you sprained your wrist. Remember when you tried using a compression sock as a wrap. Also, you're bleeding on the flyers."

Clint looks down at the paper. That indeed is his blood. Another drop falls from his nose onto the shelf, "oop, my bad." He grabs Bucky's sweatshirt and uses the corner to wipe up the blood.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs a box of band-aids off the next shelf.

"Just for that I'm getting you the hello kitty ones," Bucky pulls out an evil looking purple bunny and then tosses the box into the basket.

He peels it open and places the bandage with care over the bridge of the archer's nose.

"Joke's on you, Kuromi fits my colour scheme."

Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment.

"I speak 7 languages and yet I still manage to not understand you in your native one, which is honestly more impressive."

"Why thank you," Clint gives a cocksure smile.

They move along, tossing in some medical tape, 4 types of pain meds in giant bulk containers, and heat packs.

Bucky picks up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"Woah man, that stuff isn't right for you anymore. It's all about good ol' soap and water now. Don't you keep up with medical news?"

"No, and I doubt you do." he says with a raised brow.

"Okay fine, Bruce told me, but still."

While Bucky doesn't trust anything Clint finds online, he does trust Bruce Banner, so he puts the bottle down.

"Vaseline's in the beauty aisle, brb."

Clint jogs around the corner and Bucky calls out to his back, "stop saying abbreviations out loud!"

Bucky continues wandering on his own, collecting a few random things into the quickly filling basket.

"Incoming!" Bucky doesn't even react as a jar of Vaseline and some tweezers come flying over the shelving and land perfectly on the pile.

Bucky isn't even in his original spot anymore, how did—nope, not going there. If he asks, he'll just get told "because I'm fucking Hawkeye," with that stupid charming smirk that secretly gives him cuteness aggression.

Bucky Barnes does not get cuteness aggression.

He turns around the corner the same time Clint steps back in front of him.

"Hiya, did you miss me?"

"No," Bucky says, placing a little kiss on Clint's lips.

"Aw, you totally did." Clint fists Bucky's top and pulls him in for another kiss.

The man goes easily, melting into the familiar taste of copper and the sting in his lip from where someone hit him in the face with the butt of their rifle. The stubble is an even more familiar roughness, closer to a tickle. Clint pulls back with a salacious pop, bringing his thumb up to wipe away the spare saliva in the corner of Bucky's mouth.

They hear a strong tone of throat clearing nearby, looking up to see cowboy hat staring at them in disgust with a cart full of dog food.

"Evening sir," Clint waves, then gives a little tip of his imaginary hat. The man just shakes his head then needs moving.

"C'mon, get your ice cream and lets go."

Clint acquiesces, reluctantly pulling away from Bucky's warmth.

After getting the promised ice cream they head straight for the self checkout. The last time they went to a cashier-only pharmacy to restock their first aid they got stared at like they were planning on cutting up the cashier and selling her kidneys (the sewing kit really didn't help), so dumping the pile of gauze away from the employees prying eyes saves them from talking to the cops.

The receipt takes ages to print, Clint grabbing more and more of it like a magician pulling scarves from a hat.

"Babe, will you tie me up with the CVS receipt and do dirty, dirty things to me later?"

Bucky huffs out a laugh and pushes at the other's shoulder, "shut up freak."

Cowboy hat decides to pull up to a nearby checkout just at that very moment, freezing and sending the pair a look like he's personally casting them to the depths of hell.

Clint turns to him, a mischievous smirk that could mean nothing good.

"Sir, would you tie me up with this CVS receipt and—"

Bucky clamps a hand over the man's lips and forcibly drags him out of the building.

[karmakatx]

overly-elaborate falsettos dissection time!

we all know in thrill of first love when marvin and whizzer are complaining abt each other, but i didn’t even take time to think about what they were actually complaining about till now. marvin’s complaints about whizzer are about how whizzer cant/won’t love him, how he sleeps with other men and won’t stay monogamous, and pretty serious stuff. while whizzers complaints are quite literally only about how marvin dresses. only towards the end of the song (after marvin calls whizzer ‘cheap’) does he actually seem to start taking things seriously. the way i’m interpreting this is, at least at the beginning of their relationship, whizzer never saw their relationship as something serious. kinda obvious?? maybe i’m super dumb and behind?? idk but i’m only just now noticing whizzers nonchalantness about marvin’s anger. IN NO WAY AM I TRYING TO DEMONIZE WHIZZER. both of them were terrible that first time around, and i very seriously acknowledge how horrific marvin was to whizzer. on the other hand, i’m seeing now that whizzer tried to provoke him and piss him off more. why? idk that’s a conversation for a later date. again, in no way does the blame lie solely on whizzer- bc we all know marvin was a terrible person- but whizzer didn’t exactly do nothing to cause marvin’s temper tantrum’s

thank you for coming to my ted talk- be expecting more because my brain is only falsettos

[airenyah]

Hey so do you know where I could find this acting manifesto of yours?

I usually try and avoid publicly expressing my opinion on things like this but I recently saw some people commenting negatively on his acting again and I’m starting to doubt my own judgement.

I’ve truly never had a huge problem with his acting but I keep seeing people using really harsh words to describe his prior and current work. I genuinely think he’s doing a good job in THK but these comments sometimes make me think I’m missing something.

That conflicts with the fact I know at least three people he worked with on THK specifically had positive things to say about his acting too and I trust people who do this for a living to know what they’re talking about for the most part.

I guess I’m just looking for your post to have a more detailed perspective of the opposite viewpoint to “he’s a terrible actor” to help affirm some of my thinking so I’m more confident in my positive opinion of his acting.

Overall though I’m enjoying everyone in this show but for me I’m specifically enjoying the four mains the most. Kudos to them honestly.

(Disclaimer: Obviously everyone is entitled to their opinion but the harshness of some of the opinions took me off guard a little.)

fuck these people. they don't know shit.

(mind you. this manifesto was written based on his performance in just star in my mind and hidden agenda. his 2024 shows weren't even out at that point. in fact, thk hadn't even been publicly announced yet. you can see from the start there is talent in this boy if you actually know what to look out for)

bonus: i rant some more in the last reblog

[volfoss]

it is beyond infuriating how anne rice seems to insist on marius being a positive force in anyone's life ever. like she can't fully commit to exploring the fact he groomed armand and has repeatedly taken away his consent for what marius thinks is best (take the end of TVA as an example) and just kind of flatly puts it in the narrative. there's not really much interest in how these horrific events make marius come across as the worst because EVERYONE loves him. for gods sake, lestat learns from armand exactly what marius did to him in TVL and then proceeds to go find marius and be super friendly to him in the same fucking book. even armand and pandora, two of the people who have MORE than enough right to hate him, do not. it doesnt feel like shes trying to explore the toxicity of the abusive dynamic he traps them in, it just is there. and like yeah ofc the toxic vampire romance series but i think that this should be handled with more care. and it is not ever really framed in a way that she is interested in exploring how marius should easily be one of the most horrific characters in this series because it kind of feels like sa/rape/grooming/other things of that sort are just put there to further plot and not to really get the respect that they deserve in a medium.

[affluent-havoc]

Random Togami Headcanon 13

TL;DR - Byakuya's bettered himself but he still has a long road of healing. Also, heads up. This one's not happy like most of the others. Gets a bit hopeful at the end but there's still a lot of sad topics here. Viewer discretion is advised. Now that he feels more empathy for others and possesses some capability for putting himself in another's shoes, thoughts he used to have about the lower class make him feel... off. Perhaps guilt or discomfort with himself. It doesn't help though looking at his classmates every school day and being reminded of the mindset he was raised with. It especially doesn't help when he looks at Makoto who helped him. Makoto being the commoner of all commoner's also hurts. He appreciates what Makoto's done to help him but it unintentionally stabs him hard within his chest that he needed someone's help to get to this point and the someone being a commoner he once wrote off. Next, with this empathy, the heir feels better with his life and happiness but fundamentally worse. It's as if he deteriorated though, logically, he knows it's not the case. He knows that the illogical side of his brain covers itself in the hides of reason and rationale. Essentially, Byakuya ends up having a grueling struggle with dealing with these emotions that, for the majority of his life, he buried and repressed. Emotions that both make him feel more fulfilled in life but that tear him apart inside. Bouts where he feels either extremely content with how he's turned out or that dread and despair that he's slipping back into his old ways. In fact, at times, it becomes overwhelming for him to handle which he especially hates. Being overwhelmed is yet another thing he once viewed as a weakness and, to some extent, he still does. Sometimes, to cope, jokes to himself on whether existing itself is something he feels is a weakness. However, though he has a lot of emotions and thoughts that upset him now as a bettered person, one big thing that pains him is that he has the capability and the intelligence to notice all of this. It's the acknowledgment that stings. The heir notices that he has a problem, that he probably needs help, maybe even therapy, but then he spirals more because of that realization. Why should HE need HELP for these problems of his?! He's an independent person! He should logically be able to handle this himself. He's always handled his problems on his own! Why should he now need someone or just a support system of people to aid in his path of healing? He feels gross for that support system being the classmates who he once adamantly despised with such vitriol. With the added empathy, he also feels shame as he doesn't want to hurt any more people in his life now. He has the hindsight to know this now. He questions himself. Is the situation he's in even that big of a deal and should he keep searching for answers on the "why" and "how"? Is it worth it? Comparisons to the peasants he used to once adamantly demonize also do not escape him. He feels worse because, while he's breaking at the seams, countless of other commoners have similar thoughts too. He's not unique and a bit of that stings his lingering superiority. Then, there is the fact that Byakuya feels even worse about this BECAUSE commoners can handle stuff like this and yet, he keeps saying that he can't due to his mental spirals. Either that or the older thoughts of hating commoners bites back by making him feel like he's "acting like one". He knows by this point that he's actively tearing himself down and that he needs to escape this cycle of mental abuse. He feels shame in himself though. He feels humiliated. Pathetic. Overly emotional in ways he's never felt before. He still has that hope though. The hope that he can get through his. The heir's already delt with so much whether canon, non-despair, or an au of some kind. He's continued on despite it all. And, though long ago, he would have pushed some of this hope off for it being too optimistic, he's grown to care less about that sort of thought anymore. Byakuya can do this.

[dekusleftsock]

Have I made both mha and sonic fans and the ones who follow me just bc my silly brain decided that I must talk about what I think at all times, happy today. Are we fed. Did I doom scroll enough for you all.

You make me sick.

Pls stay I have not stopped making metas I’m just depressed and scared. This goes for anons as well I’m so sorry I haven’t checked my ask box

[leftoversludge]

argggghhhhhhhuuuhhhhhhhggghhhh

[gobstoppr]

and btw im in my hater arc rn. as time goes on the more i find a lot of 'fandom' stuff insufferable (i like art n stuff. just the way that fandom refits every media to fit a single mold and set of boring archetypes is exhausting.)

i just get really easily annoyed lately. and have been unfollowing people on a whim a lot. its not personal i promise

[itspileofgoodthings]

see i have all these spicy takes in the drafts that i don’t post out of self-restraint but then i see a spicy take that i hate SO MUCH and then i want to post mine out of revenge. it’s a terrible cycle tbh.

[prosebushpatch]

Alright, so, yesterday, I recorded every single POV in each chapter in The Lunar Chronicles like a normal person and that's what this blog post is about. So if you want to want the overview of me going pepe silvia over the fact that one of the love interests has less POV chapters than two side characters, boy have I got a post for you!

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

.

[butcherb1rd]

every single day this trip i am reminded that autism is a disability

[coffeebanana]

Every time I read classic books I feel this pressure to enjoy them, and I just...never do? I can appreciate why they're important or influential for their time, and I appreciate that they exist, but...I just don't enjoy the style? Like they tend to be very repetitive and they have a lot of scenes that frankly...don't do anything to move the story forwards. The kinds of things that today would get the story tossed aside by publishers. And obviously I'm not saying it is bad writing, because again--different time period. Different style. But I wish I could be completely comfortable saying I just don't enjoy those books. For me personally, reading them is often more effort than what I get out of them. And sometimes I will read them anyways because I want to understand references people make to them in other books or media, but at the end of the day they don't bring me joy like modern books or fanfiction do and I think that's okay.