#pick's ego theories

[kkoct-ik]

milgram analysis: how mikoto introjects and conforms himself to social misconceptions around DID

analysing mikoto's character, how Milgram frames DID to characters and audience, and following how mikoto's sense of self and presentation develops in response to Milgram and the DID label.

(google docs ver for ease of reading)

will be referring to milgram-en's (John Doe, Neoplasm, interrogation) and Maristelina's (timeline) translations. thank you for your work!

note on content: i am die-hard autistic about DID representation.

as of writing this essay, i've already written two long analytical essays criticising mikoto's reception, and sharing my (strong) opinions on how i believe his DID functions.

while it's not necessary to have read my previous essays to understand this one, if you would like to understand my take on him in more depth, or just read more of my criticism around DID representation, you can find links to them here on my website!

note on names: for the purposes of this post:

mikoto refers to the person/system, all parts included

'mikoto' refers to any normative part of mikoto, when intentionally distinguished (ie. when the idea of mikoto having a 'normal' self is evoked and spoken of in opposition to an 'other' self)

mikoto (俺) refers to the 'othered' mikoto that appears in the John Doe (Trial 1) voice drama and attacks es. it also refers to the 'othered' mikoto from the timeline conversations, as that is the pronoun used, although these are not necessarily 'the same alter'.

mikoto (オレ) refers to the 'othered' mikoto that appears in the Neoplasm (Trial 2) voice drama and claims to be the alter who commit murder.

please note that i use words such as 'unacceptable' 'intolerable' etc. a lot in my mikoto analyses. please note i don't use these words in an 'objective' or judgemental way. i will always mean it first and foremost that whatever i am referring to 'cannot be accepted/tolerated by mikoto/the world he comes from'.

i'm working with translations and 09 is a complicated character, so please forgive any slip ups!

thank you for reading.

introduction: why do social misconceptions matter?

in my experience, a lot of discussions about mikoto are dominated by the fact that he has DID.

more specifically, i find that a lot of discussions around mikoto are dominated by the impression that his dissociative disorder indicates that 'plurality' or 'systemhood' is his inherent state of being. i find many people believe that having DID makes you 'a system' of discrete parts / alters / personalities, while others who do not suffer from DID, are not. therefore, the reveal of mikoto's DID is the reveal that mikoto is not one identity, but instead a 'system' of multiple alters that are yet to be defined and discovered.

this way of understanding mikoto leads many to interpret es', jackalope's, and kotoko's labelling of mikoto with DID as a generally neutral act — or even a positive one.

while mikoto, for the most part, is not aware of his DID, and being forced to be aware of his symptoms may be destabilising, because it is a 'fact' he has DID, this label being applied to him would seem to ultimately be an act that brings us closer to understanding mikoto and the truth that lies within him. it would seem that by reaching this label, adapting how we see him according to it, and subsequently communicating with mikoto's alters as individuals, all es does through their labelling of mikoto with DID is 'uncover' a 'truth' about mikoto and act accordingly, as one should.

in my opinion, having preconceptions about how one's self operates and would benefit from being treated, just because their symptoms correspond to a diagnostic label, is misguided and dehumanising to the mentally ill. more specifically to mikoto, i think these preconceptions have completely overridden any potential discussion about his themes, character influences, and the commentary on power dynamics, toxic social expectations, and coercive self-identification that Milgram provides.

mikoto is not just a character that suffers from the symptoms of DID. mikoto is, also, a highly socially conscious, adaptable, and vulnerable character, that is an expert at gleaning the expectations placed on him by those in power and authority, and conforming to them, to spare himself from scrutiny and abuse.

i believe mikoto's relationship to the label of DID and his 'systemhood' is less so about indicating his inherent state of being, and moreso a tool he adopts due to the social position he is placed in during Milgram, that he uses for his survival, and introjects to protect his self-image.

or: i believe mikoto actively responds to the label of DID as it is applied to him, gleans the social expectations of the label, and acts accordingly, introjecting a 'multiple' way of seeing his self as a way to make sense of his inner turmoil, and also plays the cards he is dealt socially, taking advantage of the audience's preconceptions around those with DID to help him survive the institution of Milgram and escape its torture and punishment for the murders he commit.

enjoy the read. i have a lot to cover.

main body 1: culture and conformity (quick section)

let's first put him into context.

being a person that suffers from a mental illness changes how you engage with the world.

not does being mentally ill mean you are considered to be atypical in how you view and interact with the world, with that difference causing impaired functioning and disruption to your health, but being mentally ill also impacts how others and wider society treat and value you, and subsequently how you treat, see, and value yourself.

in many societies, including japanese, having mental illness is a source of shame. because being considered mentally ill - having impaired functioning - involves the inability to fulfil an expected societal role or conform to societal and social expectations, being labelled as and functionally mentally ill often reaps the consequence of being unable to fit into society: being ostracised, being deemed an 'other', a worthless human, and/or a threat.

under the threat of ostracisation from their societies, and in the avoidance of shame, many people, such as mikoto, value their social roles, and have strong ideas about how they 'should' act and how they 'should' progress through life. should they struggle with their mental health, or otherwise feel that they are not acting or existing as they 'should', many will do anything in their power to maintain the illusion of functioning and normalcy, sacrificing their wellbeing in private and repressing any parts of themselves that they deem socially unacceptable.

mikoto, on practically every level in his life outside of Milgram, is not in a position to engage with the notion of being nonconformist. there is too much at stake for him, in his livelihood, his social position, his familial responsibilities, and his self-image.

it has been, and continues to be, vital for mikoto's survival that he stick to his established social role and conform to any social expectations placed on him, even if it causes him harm, because by aligning himself with the expectations of those with power over him, he can expect those in power and authority to favour (or overlook) him, helping him avoid scrutiny, shame, and the loss of everything he has sacrificed for.

this approach to navigating the world is ingrained in mikoto, and brings us the mikoto we encounter in Milgram.

main body 2: mikoto and social expectations

milgram.jp/character/mikoto (Profile): 常識人なりに常に状況に対して順応しようとしている。 tl: "A sensible* person who is always trying to [adapt/conform/acclimate/accomodate] to whatever the situation is." By "sensible", it means acting in accordance with prudence and propriety with the mores. (@milgram-en)

mikoto is first introduced to us by emphasising how 'normal', average, and "sensible*" he is, and the fact he is a man that is "always trying to [adapt/conform/etc.]" to the situation at hand, conveying how attuned and aligned he is to social expectations. he also describes himself along these lines, emphasising his desire to be seen as a conformist and socially acceptable individual.

outside of the impression of normalcy he intentionally gives us, it is also likely that mikoto genuinely sees himself in this way, due to his own avoidance and a psychological need to protect his sense of self. (I speak in this essay about mikoto's relationship to shame.)

mikoto's desire to be seen and see himself as socially acceptable extends to a pathological degree; he displays a severe disconnect from unacceptable parts of his identity (such as his ever being angry before) that instead manifest in his dissociative parts,

he appears to / acts as if he has have no memory of his murder, and violent outbursts,

my friend pointed out that the dream imagery in MeMe and Double may be suggestive of his derealisation (it may imply he does have memory of his murders, but it feel so unreal and foreign to him that he can only feel that it must have been a bad dream he had),

and when pushed on the matter that he may be a murderer and have just forgotten, he has a panic attack, and his normative parts are forced to switch out and disengage, ensuring his dissociation from everything unacceptable about him, including the fact that he is a murderer, remains intact.

these traits mikoto has early on in Milgram are indicative of the person he has developed to be as a result of his upbringing and sociocultural influences. his social expectations outside of Milgram, to name a few, are to be operational, obedient to authority, and to conform. he cannot be, and therefore 'is not', strange, abrasive, mentally ill, or a murderer.

however, Milgram itself is a society in a sense, with its own social expectations, norms, and statuses. in John Doe, mikoto's insistence on his normalcy is rejected, due to being incongruent with the reality of Milgram, that denotes that he is a murderer. es attempts to force mikoto to acknowledge the reality of Milgram, and although he shuts down, dissociates, and ends up physically retaliating to es’ attack, mikoto's resistance to the label of murderer is a losing battle, and he knows it.

milgram.jp/character/mikoto (Profile): 夜中になってもミコトの監獄からは物音がするため、いつ寝ているのかがわからないと囚人の間で話題。 tl: "There are noises coming from Mikoto's prison even in the middle of the night, and the prisoners say they have no idea when he is asleep."

moreover, mikoto is attuned to the rising realisation that something is not right, and that others are becoming concerned about and afraid of him.

since the negative reputation mikoto gains in Milgram amongst his fellow prisoners would seem to be about the seemingly aggressive actions of his other parts (such as breaking things in his room while having meltdowns, defending himself against kotoko, and being judged unforgiven in Trial 1 following his (俺) violent outburst), mikoto likely feels he is not able to smooth this negative reputation over with his typical normative and friendly demeanours alone, and likely feels very out of control of his circumstances, reputation, and self overall.

all of these indicate to mikoto that he is in a new, strange place, removed from his ordinary life, with a new authority (the word of the warden) to conform and appeal to, lest he ostracised, punished, scrutinised, and have his sense of self shattered.

and interestingly, while he persists in being unable to integrate with his sense of self the idea that he is a murderer or commit violent acts, at the very end of John Doe he is bestowed a diagnostic label, that is then proposed to and adopted by Milgram's figure of authority. this label he finds applied to him is one that carries a preconceived notion around his personhood, and may just free him from having to shatter his forced-normal view of himself in light of his murders and acts he cannot explain, and instead allow him to blame everything unexplainable about him on an ‘other’ within himself.

main body 3: mikoto and the label of DID

at the end of John Doe, and following mikoto's (俺) violent outburst at es' prodding, kotoko armchair diagnoses mikoto with DID.

(at the beginning of Trial 2, Milgram (through jackalope) would seem to have confirmed this to be an accurate assessment, but in my opinion that's neither here nor there; just because he 'has' a disorder, does not make him an expert in it, necessarily honest about his symptoms, or immune to playing up his presentation to fit how people expect him to act or because of outside influences that coerce how he conceptualises himself in light of the label.)

when understanding what this act of labelling could mean to him, it's important to establish that, up to the beginning of Neoplasm, mikoto himself seems to a) not be aware that this is a condition he suffers from, and b) only really have a surface level knowledge of what DID is. he asks es about basic functions of and theory around the condition, and even confesses that in es' shoes, he would have assumed someone claiming to have DID was a liar trying to dodge responsibility.

that is to say, from the moment he realises this is a label being applied to him, the only real information he has about what this label means and what his social position is now is lifted directly from what es tells him, and what we, as the audience (that he hears as 'voices' between Trial 1 and 2) apply to him. which is great for me. what a controlled environment to analyse.

in my opinion, the earliest point that mikoto may have realised the DID label / model was being applied to him, is at the end of John Doe. even implicitly, es introduces to mikoto the concept of there being 'another him' or some 'outside' force within him.

even earlier than that, kotoko very powerfully controls the audience's eventual discourse around how we should be thinking about him in light of the diagnosis. by directly tying the label of DID she applies to him to an abstracted debate about culpability in patients with DID, the status of 'person with DID' mikoto gains fundamentally becomes a question of if he should be 'let off' for his actions because of it. therefore, Milgram ensures that a leading debate when it comes to mikoto and his diagnosis is the possibility of being forgiven because it was not 'actually him' that commit those acts.

(i'm not sure where to fit this, but i do want to comment on the violence of applying this stigmatised diagnosis to him so carelessly and without his consent, and especially encouraging es to see him accordingly as a 'case' of DID ('real multiple personality disorder patient'), thus dehumanising him by transforming him into an abstract thought experiment. i personally think it's abusive and prejudiced to act like his personhood and manner of existing is for an authority to 'other' and define; despite his dissociation, mikoto does not express a desire to be seen as multiple alters until it becomes strategically useful, and i genuinely believe that applying the label of DID, and thus the model of 'systemhood'/'multiplicity' onto him, without his consent, is abusive and prejudiced. i believe any person's decision to see and express themselves as a 'system' of multiple selves must be done on their own accord and for their own benefit, and not because they are pathologised and somehow deemed inherently 'different' as a human being. ok, i just wanted to say this.)

all this to say, between Trial 1 and Trial 2, at the same time that mikoto is coping with and trying to make sense of this traumatic and strange situation, feeling out of control of his circumstances, reputation, and self, he is persistently hearing the audience discuss the notion that there could be 'another him' responsible for all his intolerable acts, behaviours, and personality traits, as well as the idea that this 'other him' is also 'not him', and that it is a possibility they may not hold mikoto responsible for the actions and existence of the 'other him'.

it has been, and continues to be, vital for mikoto's survival that he [...] conform to any social expectations placed on him, even if it causes him harm, because by aligning himself with the expectations of those with power over him, he can expect those in power and authority to favour (or overlook) him, helping him avoid scrutiny, shame, and the loss of everything he has sacrificed for.

as i've established, mikoto has a narrowed self-image; he is avoidant to acknowledging distress and possesses a psychological need to protect his sense of self and appear normative, functional, and socially acceptable, which he does by disowning parts of himself and dissociating.

not only is it helpful for him to play the cards he's dealt and adapt to the position he has found himself in to curry the favour of those in power (because frankly, weakly and confusedly resisting es' assertions of his identity as a murderer due to his normative parts' narrowed sense of self is draining and triggering to him, and getting him nowhere in terms of Milgram), but i cannot emphasise enough how subconsciously appealing of an explanation it must be to him, to imagine that everything he has psychologically disowned actually 'isn't him', and therefore an aspect of his self he does not have to face responsibility or consequences for.

that is to say, although he truly suffers from DID and has truly dissociated from parts of his self so much that he cannot and refuses to recognise them as himself, because kotoko evokes the common and 'othering' misconception that alters are discrete and autonomous (and opens the debate about the possibility of not holding one responsible for the acts of the other), the audience's debate encourages mikoto to adopt the belief, outlook, and strategy that his alters are 'different people', distinct from him, and solely responsible for the acts mikoto has dissociated himself from.

main body 4: introjected stigma and self-conceptualisation

while i think on a lot of levels, mikoto conforms to the DID status as a tool for his Trial 2 interrogation, it is still worth noting that as a vulnerable person with a socially reliant sense of self, mikoto is vulnerable to introjecting stigma and negative conceptions around the mentally ill, and applying them to himself, which negatively impacts on his self-image.

date: August 5th, 2024 (Kazui's Birthday)

even without es' authority to perform a certain identity towards and appeal to, as Milgram progresses, mikoto appears to slowly grow to worry about himself and genuinely start to believe he is unpredictable and violent, thus seeking to isolate himself from others. he also demonstrates the assumption that kazui is in touch with the social consensus that there is something scary or strange about mikoto, and expects kazui to treat him and think about him accordingly.

AMANE: ...Who are you? How intriguing. Are you saying you are not Mikoto Kayano? MIKOTO: Ha- You're asking who am "I"? That's what "I" wanna know. Whoops, don't come any closer. I'm in a rebellious phase and there's no guarantee I won't kill you, brat [kid] or not. Just leave quietly.

date: October 6th, 2024 (Mikoto's Birthday) (source)

mikoto, later, also directly engages with the social consensus that there is something strange and scary about him. during his birthday interaction, mikoto (俺, it would seem, or at the least an 'other mikoto' that uses this personal pronoun, given that's what's written) actively portrays himself to amane as 'not mikoto' — a violent and unpredictable undefined existence, that people should stay away from, and reinforcing his established negative social perception.

this is in line with mikoto's growing internalised belief that, due to his (or, in having) mental illness, he is violent and unpredictable.

as ore (俺)/'not mikoto' he is also able to engage directly with this introjected belief, and actively portray himself according to how he believes others see him, to reinforce that status for his goals. for this circumstance, his goal appears to be - again - to isolate himself, because he believes that there is something wrong with him, and believes that he may become violent for no reason, something he does not want to have happen. thus he threatens amane, reminding her of his poor reputation, and 'protects' her from himself.

(note: i am calling his belief that 'he is volatile' an introjected belief, and not entertaining the idea that he is just being honest about his own violent impulses, because despite his negative reputation, mikoto (regardless of self-state) has never demonstrated that he is someone who becomes violent 'for no reason'. in my opinion, by warning amane to stay away for her own safety, he demonstrates that he does not want to hurt her. moreover, the only fights he has engaged with were explicitly in self-defense: kotoko in physical self-defense (although is unaware of this context and attributes it to sleepwalking, furthering his belief he gets into violent situations without his control and unprovoked), and es in psychological self-defense, only after being pushed far further beyond his mental limits than any other prisoner.)

another goal in this interaction with amane could also be, in my opinion, the desire to protect himself through self-isolation. because mikoto is vulnerable to social scrutiny and shame, and feels as if he can't control his acts or how he is seen, it would make sense that he therefore strives not to be seen by or interact with anybody, allowing him to maintain at least some amount of control over his identity and the way he is seen. thus, just like his interaction with kazui, mikoto (俺) plays the cards he has been dealt to his advantage, and reminds others of his negative social perception, to secure a relative social safety in being isolated.

i also think it's worth commenting on the dimension of mikoto (俺) in this interaction being 'not mikoto', and the psychological and social advantages of playing into a sense of DID/multiplicity. i think a major aspect for how mikoto internalises the DID label and sense of an 'other mikoto', is because by cementing a 'not mikoto', it helps mikoto remove himself from himself, and apply (which i typically call scapegoating) his undesirable traits onto an 'other'.

when it comes to mikoto's (俺) warning to amane while he emulates the outcasted and rough social role he perceives as having, framing himself as 'not mikoto' allows him to act in the way he does to protect himself & others, without challenging his strong sense of what 'is' mikoto (ie. socially conscious, innocent of wrongdoing, conformist, sensitive). thus, mikoto (俺) does what he needs to do, and by psychologically removing his self from the act, protects his sense of self and preserves - at least to him - the illusion of normative 'mikoto'.

moreover, it is likely his (俺) sense of being 'not mikoto' is also a genuine dissociative feeling he has. because 'mikoto' is a narrowed identity that has disowned the majority of his own personality and humanity, and the traits and manners of existing contained in the 'other mikotos' are disallowed from being 'mikoto', it does beg the question to every other part of him of who they 'are'.

in my experience, drawing attention to (or god forbid, reinforcing) identity alteration/confusion makes it worse. therefore, i can believe that while in previous dissociative episodes mikoto has similarly felt 'altered' and 'not like himself', without the social pressure of Milgram and a preoccupation with the notion of having other selves (instead being preoccupied with his conformist identity and life responsibilities), he did not dwell on it, and quickly lost connection entirely with the instance in which he felt strange (either through estrangement and brushing it off, or forgetting it altogether).

in contrast, because in Milgram, DID and mikoto's strangeness is made to be at the forefront of his mind, the dysphoria inducing differences between what he thinks 'he' is like and what he is actually like become amplified. mikoto has likely become more alert to his idea of his 'self' and his manners of existing, leading him to more easily feel strange and 'out-of-character' for minor ways in which he does not conform to his narrowed sense of self, which leads his ostracised parts to properly notice and be affected by their exclusion from mikoto's accepted sense of self. thus, they perceive themselves — and begin expressing themselves — as unexplainable, disowned, existences.

date: October 6th, 2023 (Mikoto's Birthday)

mikoto also directly confronts the idea that there is 'another him' during his 2023 birthday timeline conversation, and we even get to see two sides of him express the way they conceptualise themselves in opposition to one another.

i think this exchange really demonstrates how mikoto uses a sense of multiplicity to cope with his own shame and his fears around feeling out of control. by splitting the way he sees himself in two, mikoto can both blame 'himself' for his traumas and social ostracisation, expressing his internalised shame and self hatred, while also preserving 'himself' as an innocent victim and externalising his grief.

the beginning of this interaction is, explicitly, because mikoto 'comes around' to the model of multiplicity people have forcibly applied to him. with it in mind, 'mikoto' makes sense of everything that has caused him grief and blames it on the 'other him'.

specifically:

1. 'mikoto' blames the 'other him' for ripping his clothes: specifically, he blames the 'other him' for ripping his straitjacket he wears into t2 that, we can infer from the shreds, had incredibly long sleeves and bodice, and was likely used to restrict his movement and possibly restrain him.

therefore, while 'mikoto' blames the 'other him' for for the frightening state of his clothes, in context, mikoto's act to tear his clothes was one of resisting oppression. it was probably also an act of expressing more than a little rage at the injustice mikoto is facing in being incarcerated and abused.

'mikoto' does not acknowledge or sympathise with this context, and whether 'mikoto' is psychologically aware of this context to the 'other his' actions is unclear. it is possible his distress about his ripped clothes, and why he lashes out at the 'other him' for doing that, is because he is so dissociated that he is genuinely unaware of why he did this, and is frightened by the unexplainable and feeling out of control.

i think it's also possible that even if mikoto was aware of why he ripped up his straitjacket, he would not have sympathised with his past decision, and would still have verbally abused himself for acting out of line. because ripping the straitjacket is an act of resisting oppression — not conforming to his social position and submitting to authority — 'mikoto' likely finds it an unacceptable and dysphoric act. moreover, because ripping the straitjacket is more than likely an expression of rage, an emotion 'mikoto' does not allow him to express as 'himself' (and likely feels he has no experience with, as 'himself'), this goes doubly.

2. 'mikoto' also blames the 'other him' for scaring the others in the prison. i will assume this is referring to the loud noises he makes at night, the destruction of his property he does when angry, and the fight he gets into with kotoko.

(this timeline conversation takes place before the previous two i analysed, so i'll assume he hasn't began performing his 'othered' identity yet, in frightening others to protect them/himself. although, i have already covered why i believe he does this, and it's hardly malicious, so it wouldn't effect things either way.)

while it's understandable why mikoto and his fellow prisoners find mikoto's nightly crash-outs to be extreme, it's worth bearing in mind that not only is he having his rights abused, in a traumatic and triggering situation, and the only property he destroys is his own and in his own room, with no risk of anyone being caught in the cross-fire, mikoto does not have — and has never had — any healthy coping mechanisms for his anger outside of repression.

it is likely mikoto has no idea how to deal with overwhelming emotions, which not only makes them feel bigger and compound over his lifetime (as all he does is repress them, put them into a box for later, and act as if they do not exist), but also means that any time he does express them, it's not exactly in socially acceptable ways.

regarding his fight with kotoko, she explicitly attacks him first, and it seems it was only because he was 'ready' that he was able to hold his own and not be knocked unconscious (or worse, if you look at how mahiru ended up at her hands) like he was in John Doe. i think it's fair to say that any negative reputation mikoto receives for this scuffle is unfair, as is blaming an 'other mikoto' for 'scaring people' through it.

(it's also possible mikoto only perceives that people are scared of him because of his scuffle with kotoko, because he is projecting his own anxiety. it's entirely possible people are only scared of him because of the strange noises coming from his room, and his increasingly haggard demeanours, odd behaviour, self-isolation, and the fact they knew kotoko made an attempt on their life simply worries them, in a way they do not know how to approach. regardless of the reality though, he thinks others are scared of him, and punishes himself accordingly.)

thus, once again, 'mikoto' finds his — absolutely understandable, and often justifiable — expressions of anger and engagement in violence either unexplainable and frightening, or dysphoric and unacceptable, leading him to lash out to the 'other him' that he dissociates from, and that he associates with these acts.

'mikoto' also blames himself and his expressions of unacceptable emotions and behaviour for the abuse he is currently suffering within Milgram ("it's your fault things have become like this"). this is consistent with how mikoto has been conditioned throughout his life through his culture, to perceive any punishment, scrutiny, and inability to survive an unjust system as a flaw from within himself.

(this outlook also functions as a coping mechanism: by always finding the blame in himself, mikoto helps himself feel that he has control — believing that if he just does everything right, everything will turn out ok — saving him from the despair of acknowledging that social systems are often unfair, and pointlessly cruel.)

'mikoto' eventually receives a reply to his self-blame and verbal abuse after he begins to shout, with his 'other self' (who writes his personal pronoun as 俺 for this exchange) defending his actions (or the actions he identifies as having done) on the basis that he did it for 'mikoto'.

notably, mikoto (俺) never protests being blamed in itself, demonstrating that even in the parts of him that can stomach identifying with his deemed unacceptable acts and expressions, he universally lacks the self esteem to defend himself or consider it an injustice to be shamed. he also likely doesn't protest being blamed because the scapegoating of an 'other mikoto' is a source of stability for mikoto that allows normative 'mikoto' to be preserved, and thus is not a notion mikoto is willing to challenge; even if this had been a part that was willing to protest injustice, he cannot conceptualise doing so at normative 'mikoto's' expense, and also possibly cannot perceive injustice if it is at normative 'mikoto's' hands.

the interaction ends with 'mikoto' seeming to not hear mikoto's (俺) defense, and instead opting to stop thinking about this all. i personally read this as normative 'mikoto' being physically unable to process mikoto's (俺) response and dissociating very severely upon receiving one, demonstrating that normative 'mikoto', unlike his other selves, cannot directly behold his 'other selves' and parts, as they are so threatening to normative 'mikoto's' self-image and enforced illusion of normalcy that characterises this part of him. therefore, it is likely that the maximum extent to how normative 'mikoto' can engage with the notion of DID / having other selves at this point, is, at best, to engage with them as an abstract concept and 'other', for the sole purpose of psychologically scapegoating.

to conclude this section, i have demonstrated that:

as a result of the rising sense that something is 'not right' with him, social sensitivity to his negative reputation, and the concept introduced to mikoto of there being 'another him' who could be held uniquely responsible for perpetrating his unforgivable acts, mikoto begins to psychologically split himself apart. he finds that he can only tolerate the reality of his situation so far, and although he is 'aware' that others are afraid of him and that he has done certain frightening things, due to his narrowed normative self-image that he has cultivated to maintain his own acceptability and an illusion of control over himself, he finds himself drawn to the explanation of there being an 'other him'. from there, mikoto scapegoats all his intolerable acts and traits onto this unexplainable, abstract figure, who he feels — expressing his own intolerance towards himself — deserves to be shamed, blamed, and needs to stop doing the 'awful things' he does immediately.

in response to his new split self-perception and his preexisting complexes and weak sense of self, mikoto begins to consider himself an 'other mikoto' or 'not mikoto' whenever he finds himself in a self-state that acts or operates beyond his normative, tolerable, persona. as these newly mentally defined parts, he encourages his own psychological splitting and scapegoating, and comes to shoulder unique responsibility for his intolerable acts as his 'other selves', allowing him to maintain the security and purity of his normative persona, despite how Milgram persistently forces him to engage with an intolerable reality that would challenge it. due to natural differences between normative 'mikoto' and his 'beyond normative' self-states in what they can tolerate and engage with, mikoto (in his 'other' states) also finds himself interacting with his perceived negative social reputation, and occasionally leans into an 'othered' persona, portraying himself how he believes others see him (and how he has come to believe he 'is') — shameful, uncouth, and at risk of becoming dangerous, unprovoked — to protect himself, and others, from himself.

in this way, social stigma around mental illness, mikoto's poor relationship to himself, and the label of DID that Milgram introduces to him (the notion of there being an 'other him') drastically changes how mikoto conceptualises himself, and shapes to a massive extent how he comes to cope with Milgram — a new, traumatic and stressful society that he has found himself in.

main body 5: DID as a social tool

as established in section 3, the label of DID when applied to mikoto is fundamentally a thought experiment posed towards the audience about the culpability of persons with DID. as explored in section 4, due to the audience's suggestions and his own complexes, mikoto has begun psychologically dividing himself from the acceptable (innocent of wrongdoing) parts and unacceptable (associated with wrongdoing) parts.

while, as mentioned in section 4, normative 'mikoto' seems unable to directly behold his 'other selves', and can only briefly entertain the thought as an abstract concept before shutting down — mikoto's 'other selves', already on the exiles of his identity, have no such phobia of the intolerable or enforced normalcy to sustain. thus, in the pursuit of appealing to abusive authorities that dictate their treatment and survival, they can directly engage with, and negotiate according to, the model of DID and multiplicity that has been applied to them.

in Neoplasm, mikoto (オレ) engages directly with the notion of there being an 'other mikoto', in order to scapegoat this ‘other self’ for mikoto's crimes. this not only allows himself to protect himself psychologically, preserving the illusion of normalcy and innocence for normative 'mikoto', and encourages Milgram to cease attacking his sense of self (instead bringing all the heat to the 'other him'), but is also vital for making the most out of the model es has applied to them, and allows it to be framed it in a way that secures a forgiven verdict for himself, ensuring his physical safety and, hopefully, leading to his ultimate survival and freedom from Milgram.

in contrast to John Doe, wherein mikoto is psychologically removed from his normative state when put under immense emotional pressure, but never identifies himself as 'not mikoto', in Neoplasm, mikoto (オレ) makes a point to draw attention to his shift in his sense of self. he does this by responding to es' comment on ‘his’ ‘sudden appearance’ roughly, openly reacting to es as if he's only just laid eyes on them in a while, and immediately, suddenly, alluding to the events of the 'other mikoto' in John Doe.

all these choices communicate to es that, and reinforce their perception that, mikoto is no longer 'himself'.

after a short period of mikoto (オレ) expressing his change in personality and attitude from his typical demeanour, es attempts to adapt to the situation according to how one may engage with a 'case of DID', and makes attempts to identify ‘who’ this self ‘is’.

in light of common preconceptions around DID, es demonstrates the assumption that mikoto's alter would have a unique name and personhood (or at the least, expresses the desire to assign mikoto's alter a name, as to distinguish him from 'actual/normal mikoto').

mikoto (オレ) reacts with surprise and suspicion that es is taking this turn of events so easily, demonstrating a consciousness about his social standing and the absurdity of the situation he has found himself in, and attempts to gauge how much es actually believes what is going on. i find this to be a good and socially-conscious first move — it would be incredibly embarrassing and ineffective to continue if the warden was only entertaining what they thought was a blatant lie.

despite mikoto (オレ) making a direct reference to malingered DID and its infamy in cases where people fake the condition to try and escape responsibility for murder, es' response assures mikoto (オレ) that, because they have decided he is an 'authentic case' according to jackalope's judgement and the consensus of the audience, it has never crossed their mind that he may still use its social status, the model of multiplicity, or misconceptions around the condition to his advantage.

which is a — relatively speaking — decent place for mikoto to confirm he is in; he has just confirmed that whether or not he 'has' DID or has an 'other self' is not up for argument, and can be assured that this is indeed the view of his self and expectation for his behaviour that has been placed upon him, that he must work with. he can be assured he is acting ‘correctly’, and continues with this approach.

despite the fact that mikoto (オレ) expresses no desire to be named anything unique (having already dodged the question once), and immediately complains about the name he is given, refusing to affirm it, es insists on naming mikoto (オレ) 'john'.

in the act of giving mikoto (オレ) a distinct name, es draws a binary in mikoto, and creates the illusion of discrete personhood between mikoto's alters, borne from their, and the audiences', rudimentary misconceptions around DID. moreover, as my friends have pointed out, by assigning him a western name, typically reserved for animals and (in being derived from 'John Doe') things that are 'unknown', es cements the sense that mikoto (オレ) is an 'other' — whether that be not japanese (not aligned with their cultural values, ideals, and society), not human (but an animal, pet, or beast), or dubiously existing or definable at all. this, again, opposes mikoto (オレ) with his normative, conformist identity, reinforcing mikoto's dissociative ostracisation, and the sense, for the audience, that mikoto exists as a binary 'system'.

mikoto (オレ) is not pleased about this development initially, due to, presumably, not actually having a particularly distinct sense of self as an alter, and probably feeling pretty insulted by the name choice. however, es' decision here to personify 'john' and crystallise the sense that the 'other mikoto' is his own distinct being who contrasts mikoto, later becomes vital for mikoto's (オレ) negotiations, and is also crucial for crystallising mikoto's reception as a 'system'. so, thanks, es. this is a surprise tool that will help us later.

during the interrogation, the first time mikoto (オレ) draws a direct parallel between ‘himself’ and his normative self when musing to es about how frequently he has found himself in his 'other' states, being unable to exist in his normative selves due to the psychological damage of Milgram (that accuses him of murder, seeks to restrain him, and has him finding himself doing unacceptable acts, such as lashing out against injustice). that is to say, the first time mikoto (オレ) reinforces and appeals to the binary between 'himself' and his normative selves is in framing 'his' continued existence as a threat to 'mikoto's'.

in my opinion, this conveys a genuine anxiety mikoto has, albeit through the lens of the illusion of having a binary self. mikoto, defined as he is to his established position in the outside world, wants to be his normative selves; he wants to maintain a sense of normalcy and live a safe and socially acceptable life, and he feels ashamed and monstrous when he acts out of line from that. i find it likely that mikoto genuinely finds it distressing that he has so often not 'been' or felt 'right' since the unforgiven verdict, and is afraid he may never be able to act as ‘himself’ (as he understands it) again, if Milgram persists.

i also think this anxiety also speaks to how moldable he is by Milgram’s environment: under the pressures of Milgram, mikoto’s ‘new self’ he is adjusting to, that is dictated by Milgram’s expectations and labels (of murderer, volatile, prisoner), is naturally becoming a more dominant force as he adjusts to his new social position. therefore, it is not just that he is dissociating, and discovering ways he feels he is out of line with his normative sense of self, but under these new labels and pressures, he is finding himself to be fundamentally shaped and changed by Milgram into a new self, not unlike how he was by the outside world. i find it likely that mikoto is also afraid of losing himself in becoming a product of Milgram’s environment, and in turn becoming alienated and ostracised from his culture, upbringing, and life from before the events of Milgram.

after asking es about a basic function of DID — what causes a dissociative separation between self-states — mikoto (オレ) ponders on why he (オレ) exists and has been himself (オレ) so often, and alludes to 'mikoto's' distress at being persecuted for crimes he does not remember, rationalising that this is why his normative self has not felt conscious lately.

i feel that the way in which he expresses his relationship to his crimes ("the person in question...") draws attention to the unique selfhood of 'mikoto-who-does-not-remember', and conveys it at a distance. this both reinforces the idea that normative 'mikoto's' self has nothing to do with his murderous acts, and that this self is estranged from the mikoto that is speaking.

(according to my friend, the incredibly objective way he speaks here almost makes him sound like a defense lawyer (or other third party) representing his client. this tone and framing of his selves helps mikoto create the illusion that ore's (オレ) assessment of his normative self can be trusted — it's generally a lot more convincing to say somebody else didn't do it than that 'you' didn't do it — and discourages es from interrogating (attacking) his normative self any further, as he has a reliable, compliant, and well-spoken 'representative')

in light of ore's (オレ) compliance and confident, seemingly trustworthy assessments of his normative self, es seems prepared to take mikoto's words as the truth.

(as to why es takes this explanation at face value, i think it’s important to analyse es’ and mikoto’s relationship and dynamic thus far.)

(in John Doe, the bulk of es' struggles engaging with mikoto as the warden can be attributed to that fact that es, as an agent of Milgram and authority in this circumstance, is shaped to the belief that Milgram is 'just' and does not make mistakes; es trusts that Milgram would not have brought in mikoto had he not commit murder, and uses this belief as the basis of their interrogation. however, mikoto is unable to face this fact, and clings, in opposition to es, in his belief in his normative reality and sense of self. therefore, during the bulk of John Doe, mikoto stubbornly resists es' worldview, and es — with the exception of briefly entertaining him — stubbornly resists his. both parties find themselves unable to reconcile the facts that they respectively trust in, and find themselves at a standstill and conflict. this ultimately leads the interrogation to not particularly develop in any useful way, and ends with es injured, after mikoto physically retaliates after being pushed and abused too far.)

(however, if we are prepared to believe mikoto has different autonomous selves, this would seem to provide a new, seemingly logical answer as to why mikoto has found himself admitted to Milgram, that mikoto can — more or less —  allow himself to engage with and mold himself to. through the explanation that it was another of mikoto's selves, Milgram was not strictly 'wrong' that mikoto had commit murder, Milgram's integrity is preserved, and es has no reason to object on a fundamental level to mikoto’s assertions.)

(also, from es' perspective, ore's (オレ) compliance in Neoplasm, fitting into the role of ‘model prisoner’ (in that he is rough, appears to act the part of a violent prisoner, but also never really lashes out and is cooperative for discussion), is a real breath of fresh air. not only does the split-personality explanation work for them ideologically, and it also helps es avoid the stubborn, uncooperative, normative ‘mikoto’ that refused to engage and lashed out. therefore, in Neoplasm, mikoto (オレ) entirely conforms himself to es’ wishes, preconceptions, and convenience, giving them little to no reason to object to his existence or assertions, and making the interrogation that much smoother.)

from the proposed reality that normative 'mikoto' had not commit the crime, es makes the assumption that it must have been 'john', the other self-state mikoto has that es has established for themselves in their mind. mikoto (オレ) agrees with this assumption when they query — notably, shockingly easily.

i find it makes a lot of sense that mikoto can make his 'confession' so matter-of-factly. as i've established, not only is mikoto at the moment playing the part of a violent prisoner and allowing himself to be defined by the labels coercively applied to him by those in authority, but the way the other dissociated mikotos conceptualise themselves are also largely defined by feeling like unexplainable, disowned existences that act as scapegoats and targets for shame and blame. therefore, there is not much emotional stake in this confession; mikoto, at best, feels removed from it entirely, and feels that he is blaming a mere concept, and at worst, feels he is blaming an unexplainable plague within himself, or a self that is a prisoner and ‘not himself’ (in a sense), that is used to — and likely 'deserves' — being blamed.

ultimately, through this 'confession', what mikoto provides to es is simply the 'fact' that he has been insisting on from the start. he even makes a point to reiterate himself.

"[this current existence, who is not what you call or judge as 'mikoto'] killed." and "[my normative self, who you do call and judge as 'mikoto'] didn't do it."

mikoto’s assertions and fundamental beliefs about his normative self never really change. throughout both interrogations, despite the changing circumstances, he unwaveringly seeks to protect his normative reality and self against the pressures of Milgram and the crimes he commit that Milgram attempts to force him to confront. what he does change, however, is his social strategy and performance, that adapts as he gains a greater awareness of the position he is in and the expectations being placed on him, to appease those around him, satisfy their expectations, and avoid grief. therefore, when coming into Neoplasm, while he continues to advocate for his innocence, he does so not as stubborn, difficult, normative 'mikoto', who struggles to conform to the realities of Milgram, but instead from the perspective of a compliant, 'objective third party', who pitches an explanation for mikoto's circumstances that, largely, conforms to the warden's worldviews and beliefs.

in this way, mikoto adapts himself, and becomes and performs the perfect self suited for Milgram to secure his physical and psychological survival. mikoto conforms to everything: the expected and preferred behaviour (compliance, confession), the beliefs of the authorities around him (that Milgram is correct), and the assumptions of his personhood he finds applied on him (that he is volatile and aggressive, the rumours of DID and being multiple selves) and uses and conforms to them all to his advantage.

because by aligning himself with the expectations of those with power over him, he can expect those in power and authority to favour (or overlook) him, helping him avoid scrutiny, shame, and the loss of everything he has sacrificed for.

as he could expect — because he knows how the world works — by conforming and aligning himself with the expectations of those in authority, mikoto finally avoids the scrutiny and abuse Milgram has subjected him to, and finds himself believed for the first time.

es never questions mikoto's (オレ) 'confession', nor his weak and generic responses to being pressed for further details, nor really the logistics of a self-state alone committing murder. in fact, mikoto's (オレ) vague descriptions of his acts only seem to convince them further.

when es seems thoroughly convinced by the confession, mikoto (オレ) once again checks with where es is at with their ruling, allowing him to gauge his next course of action with his interrogation strategy. after learning that es believes the conventional approach to these situations would be capital punishment, mikoto panics (オレ).

(as per usual, this response is likely both because he (as a dissociated part of himself) genuinely feels mortified at the idea of his normative self being punished for things his normative self 'did not do' (despite the fact he only gets the impression he has an innocent, normative self because he has psychologically removed all his shameful acts from that mental construct), and because he would definitely rather not physically die or be punished as a human being — the ideal is that he is able to blame something that does not really exist or exists ‘outside’ of his normative self, to avoid being punished or forced to accept his intolerable acts as his whole self's.)

in response to es' unresponsiveness to the notion that normative 'mikoto' should be let off and go unpunished if it was 'only ore's (オレ) fault', mikoto (オレ) finds himself defending, and spinning sympathy for his normative self.

first he (オレ) claims his normative self was 'asleep' for his murders, emphasising his uninvolvement, but also vulnerability. when that doesn't work, he (オレ) shouts at es to empathise with 'mikoto's' position, drawing attention to how pitiful, alone, well-behaved, and sensitive mikoto is. he highlights how mikoto’s circumstances were all stacked against him, and how despite everything, he always sought to do everything right, to comply, and to act natural, but how it all just wasn’t possible.

the worst things mikoto (オレ) allows himself to associate with his normative self are the acts of wishing for a being that could stand up against his abuse, and of 'giving birth' to his 'other self'. even then, however, mikoto (オレ) emphasises that the birth of his 'other self' is not something he could have not done, and maintains that, regardless of his violent fantasies, 'he' never truly wanted, nor had control over, the perpetrated acts, outbursts, and expressions he attributes to ‘not-mikoto’.

i have no say on how far mikoto truly believes in 'his' uninvolvement and lack of control; i find all interpretations to be compelling in their own right. he may truly believe he didn't have any control over himself and that these were not his acts, due to how ostracised from himself and dissociated he feels. he may only emotionally believe it, as he cannot bear to imagine these were his acts and thus clings to this story he has conjured to reassure himself that these acts were not his own. he may also simply just want to believe it and have it be taken as truth, and presents it as such regardless of any doubts or conflicts in his mind, seeing as any dwelling on or expressions of ambiguity could be fatal in these circumstances.

nevertheless, it's a convenient reality to propose and protect himself with, and one that he does.

in response to es buckling down about the conventional legal approach to these matters (and bringing attention to the fact that human life was lost), mikoto (オレ) panics even further, and implores es to approach them as ‘themself’.

i find that by drawing attention to es' judgement as an individual, rather than an agent of law, mikoto (オレ) pushes them emotionally off-balance and distances them from their typical desire to be objective and ruthless as the warden, giving them an uncertainty they betray in the tone of their response. this plea also encourages es, in their emotionally vulnerable state, to approach him (or more specifically, the victimised 'mikoto'), in turn, as a person they've come to know and grown attached to, likely making them more sympathetic and prone to forgiveness to preserve 'mikoto's' wellbeing (consider how Milgram's audience generally buys the idea that mikoto is a helpless victim, and feel bad at the notion of not forgiving him, especially if that means that, as mikoto (オレ) alludes to earlier, normative 'mikoto' will vanish and only his 'other personality' will remain).

ultimately however, it's interesting to note that despite the fact that es is ultimately uncertain on any strong conclusion on if mikoto's account of events means mikoto should be forgiven (as this judgement is the audience's job), they are never seen to question — nor does Milgram encourage the audience to question — mikoto's binary, his claims that he was possessed by his other selves and unable to control himself, or his claims that his other selves are 'not him'.

this manner of approaching his crime — seeing him as a person who, somehow, operates fundamentally differently to others due to his diagnostic label — echoes the sentiment kotoko proposes when giving him the DID diagnosis in Trial 1. es even reiterates it, almost verbatim. however this time, because mikoto has been able to adapt to his circumstances, he has been able to use the Neoplasm interrogation to take control of, play up to, and reinforce the models applied to him as a prisoner and person labelled with DID to guide the audience's discourse around his crime and es’ view of him, in his favour this time.

by echoing es' own language and using their preconceptions against them — calling himself 'john' for the first time when concluding his pitch and strategy for forgiveness — mikoto aligns himself with es' stigmas and belief that mikoto (オレ) is a distinct entity from mikoto that must (and can) be defined, and reframes this to guide es' approach to judging, reinforcing the illusion that mikoto's acts were not perpetrated by himself.

i find it very compelling that mikoto's ultimate argument is to promise that if he is forgiven ore (オレ) will 'disappear', since i find that this argument echoes and manipulates how the insanity defense is constructed in certain parts of the world; he makes it out that he was not in control of himself and therefore cannot (or at least, should not) be held legally responsible or punished for his acts, but also that he does not have to be removed from society for being unable to be held responsible, because the mental illness that perpetrated those acts has been identified and is going to vanish imminently.

(this is another way mikoto's ‘binary’ is practically and psychologically useful. by framing himself as only having two personalities, he makes it seem that by 'disappearing' his scapegoat part, mikoto will only have one personality left, making him, seemingly, be 'normal' again, not only no longer associated with a crime or poor behaviour contained within the personality, but also longer be mentally ill or have multiple selves at all. this helps when it comes to the verdict — i'm sure some insane people saw ore (オレ) disappearing through magical lobotomy as a good thing and as his disorder and disruptive behaviour being 'cured' — and also helps mikoto cope with his identity, dissociating himself from everything he cannot tolerate, and labelling it as more-or-less outside forces that do not have to disrupt his sense of self.)

ultimately, mikoto, functionally, promises that from now on, he will always be in control like anyone else, and that he will now be normal, functional, and socially acceptable, like he 'always has been', and always strives to be, unable, in his survival-driven state, to acknowledge or accept the extent of his self beyond his normative identity constructs, nor the damage that his intolerance towards himself has had on his mental health.

based in his well-established dissociative coping mechanisms that have kicked into overdrive thanks to the stress and social pressures of Milgram, and the circumstances of Milgram in general, mikoto finds himself increasingly desperate to entirely cut himself off from and dissociate from everything he cannot tolerate about his acts and that he hates about himself. by conforming himself to labels coercively applied to him, gauging the expectations of authority figures, and changing himself to appease those in power, mikoto makes attempts to secure his safety to do so, successfully discouraging the warden and audience from interrogating and blaming the normative 'him', and instead directing the heat and blame to his ‘other’ self that can bear the label of ‘murderer’, and protecting his normative self from shouldering the responsibility for his crime that he cannot bear — or survive — confronting

conclusion / tl;dr:

mikoto is a highly adaptable, socially conscious character, who comes from a culture that values functioning, social cohesion, and conformity. due to how he has developed in his environment, mikoto finds himself prone to repressing and disowning parts of himself, including his anger, his socially unacceptable acts, his overwhelming internalised shame, the fact that he struggles with his mental health, and the fact that, under the pressure of his life and expectations, he commit mass murder, amongst other things. this leads him to display dissociative tendencies, such as feeling like he is 'not himself' at times, or that his acts were not perpetrated by 'him'.

upon being taken to Milgram, his normative reality-illusion that is phobic of all intolerable acts and parts of himself is challenged violently, and after being triggered very severely and voted unforgiven in the first trial, mikoto finds himself in a very vulnerable social and mental spot, and is unable to maintain a sense for himself that he is normal and okay. this leads him to feel 'not like himself' a lot more often.

towards the end of the first trial, due to kotoko's suggested diagnosis in attempting to explain his strange behaviour, figures of authority around him (es and the audience) begin to apply the label and model of DID onto him. with this came the characters' and audience's stigmas, preconceptions, and preestablished narratives around DID, which, due to always reading the room and hearing the audience's voices, mikoto becomes attuned to, which influences his character development, self-image, and way in which he begins to understand and frame his crime to himself and others.

mikoto, as a socially vulnerable person with a weak sense of self, begins to introject narratives around himself, his suffering from mental illness, and his having DID, which impacts how he engages with the other prisoners (mainly by self-isolating and assuming they will be or should be scared of him), and relates to himself (wherein he begins to internalise a belief that he has other, uncontrollable selves that are dangerous and wrong, and shames and abuses them for being that way).

mikoto also, having internalised this, acts according to this way of understanding himself during his Neoplasm interrogation, and performs himself according to conventional understandings of overt personality shifts to distinguish his 'other' selves (that are defined by their distance from his normative demeanour, and their conformity to Milgram’s expectations around his identity), and uses his high social consciousness, responsiveness, and the expectations es demonstrates according to their understanding of how he as a 'person with DID' functions, to get them on board with the assertion that the normative 'mikoto' should not be held responsible for his crimes, and securing for himself a forgiven verdict without challenging the warden’s assertion that he commit murders, allowing himself to protect himself from further abuse and interrogation.

this strategy has the added benefit of reinforcing to mikoto his own desirable belief that the ‘him’ that considers 'himself' is guilty of nothing that could warrant criticism or scrutiny, and that everything intolerable he has done and is that he been forced to face is 'not actually him', and will imminently vanish from his life, reassuring him that he may have a chance to escape Milgram physically and relatively psychologically unscathed, to continue self-destructing in repression and overwork, like he is expected to, in peace.

in this way, mikoto's DID label, although abusively established and used to dehumanise him, becomes a valuable tool for getting himself out of a murder charge that he would otherwise not be able to bear confronting, or make a compelling argument to excuse himself for. by conforming to rudimentary understandings of DID and manners in which people with DID have been dehumanised, mikoto is able to present and see himself as a binary of selves, which becomes vital not only for protecting himself psychologically, and allowing himself to act in the ways Milgram requires him to without entirely shattering his normative identity, but also for convincing others that his psychological and coercively-applied-to-him binary is practical and 'real', allowing him to physically escape punishment for his acts, and assure himself and others that his other 'self' that he hates and blames for all his flaws and humanity, can be separated from him and 'vanished' for good.

epilogue / reflection

real ones know how much this essay made me want to die. i seriously didn't expect it to be so long i promise. i don't know what happened. it regularly brought me into fits of despair. but it's done. i'm glad i wrote it but i'm also so glad it's over.

i'm never writing on this dipshit again. sayonara you weeaboo shits.

(^ this is a joke. but i don't think i have anything else to say about him at the moment! i think this and my other essays really might be the vast majority of my views on his presentation. i'll probably have more to say come T3 but, for now, shrug.)

as always, please let me know if any of this is incomprehensible (whether thats grammar, my word choice, or my trains of logic). i am very happy to clarify and reword bits, it is important to me that my essays can be understood by anybody!

and, congratulations for finishing, you have read very almost 10k of non-stop mikoto analysis. go drink some water and take an eye break. please. for me. thank you!

[ssscatola]

task force 141 headcanons pt. 2 (+ a bit of ghoap)

Simon has absolutely never lost at arm wrestling

Johnny cannot wait to retire so he can adopt 150 dogs, 70 cats and 36 bunnies (he'd probably get a snake or two and a gecko or turtle as well)

Gaz really likes photography. I know this man has a shelf full of vintage analog cameras. ALSO he definitely has a collection of at least 250 polaroid photos stashed under his bed of his family and friends

Gaz also know so much shit about art and art supplies. Every medium, brand, the name of every color, every paper weight and is a master when it comes to color theory

Price is such . . . a fish guy. He loves fishing. He loves sending pictures to the force's groupchat every time he catches a huge fish and gets an ego boost when the boys reply with "nice catch, cap" along with a thumbs-up emoji from Simon

Speaking of . . . they 100% have a group chat. It's called 'Ghost's Therapists' or 'Price and the Lads' or just 'The Council'. Johnny and Gaz are the ones who spam with pics and videos and memes

Their nicknames in the chat? I'm glad you asked. Johnny: either 'SCOTLAND FOREVER' or 'Soup'. Gaz: 'Gazpacho'. Price: Mutton Chops Final Boss. Simon: Skull Boi (spelling done by Johnny)

Simon and Price prefer vanilla. Gaz and Johnny will always pick chocolate

Gaz goes to sleep by putting on ambient sounds of rain

When at the beach, Johnny and Gaz LOVE tanning. Price goes for a long swim, eats three nectarines and takes a two hour nap on his towel. Simon walks along the shore, drenched in SPF and collects tiny iridescent seashells and gives them to Johnny later

Simon Riley who likes pottery and does it as a hobby when he retires……he makes new plates and mugs for Johnny (let me have this) (i’ll write a separate post about this i have so much to say)

Not really a headcanon but Johnny and Simon at the zoo. or at a botanical garden. or having a picnic (i’m very normal about all of these ideas)

Price is a sleepy drunk. Johnny is horny/aggressive drunk. Simon is sappy drunk but hides it as much as he can. Gaz is everything is hilarious drunk

Simon WORKS a grill

Every single handyman is terrified of Gaz because he just know EVERYTHING about fixing ANYTHING

Price’s favorite fruits are strawberries and peaches. Gaz’s is passion fruit and cherries. Johnny would kill for kiwis and figs and Simon would be on a diet consisting only of oranges and raspberries if he could

ALL of them have a sweet tooth but Price and Simon are the worst

Did I mention Simon not knowing who Shrek is? No? Well, he doesn’t. Johnny remembers this and next time they’re all on a mission together, he starts quoting the dialogue (mimicking the voices, of course) from the “Muffin Man” scene into his comms and Simon is yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Gaz and Price are crying laughing

[theannoyingurge]

I love how Gortash complains that Orin is insane and wants to kill everything in sight, yet seems to think The Dark Urge was different?

Supposing he isn't just saying this to manipulate you out of ripping his face off (a theory I enjoy quite a bit), he commends you for being calculated and controlled and knowing when to pick a fight. He says things like "Orin only cares for blood" and "I want to lead this city to glory, not scorch its earth" like he's selling you something.

Gort, do you even realize your former partner dreams of a blood red sky with not a single cockroach left alive to witness it? I feel like you don't.

From Orin's perspective, Durge was a mindless, bloodthirsty animal who literally wanted to kill everything indiscriminately. Sarevok also alludes to your "primal" urges.

So... what gives? Did Durge hide their true nature around Gortash because they wanted to impress him? Because it worked.

Was it all manipulation to gain his trust? Or were they so knotted in his chords that they forged a new self image, separate from Bhaal? Is that why they prayed for their father's forgiveness, promising that one day, they would finally stop resisting and win the game / end the world for Him?

Was that new, troublesome ego the one that they woke up with on the nautiloid after everything else had been lost?

Was the Dark Urge learning to resist Bhaal the result of a crush gone horribly right?

Poor Orin is just trying to live up to Durge's expectations and fill their shoes. But no matter how skillfully she kills, Gortash doesn't treat her with the same respect as her predecessor. Because he remembers a very different person than she does. One who changed for him.

It's no wonder she wants Gortash gone lol.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

so i just found out about the isagi isolation/dehumanization theory, and as his #1 defender and as bllk’s #1 theorist, im not feeling too good rn.

to start, when isagi declares that he will lead the u20 japan team to victory, he doesn’t use the term “i will”, he just says “isagi yoichi will”, addressing himself by name and in the third person. from this, we can deduce an important thing: he views himself as a character. he sees himself as a part of the story that he is the narrator of. this alone says enough about his dehumanization of himself, but there’s more.

in the exact panel that he states he will lead japan to victory in chapter 303, many have pointed out that compared to his previous statement in chapter 148, his eyes are much emptier. though many have defended this accusation saying that the art style changed, i have to oppose. we’ve seen from the nagireo 2nd edition breakup chapters (299-302) that nomura can still draw detailed eyes extremely well, and there’s no way nomura wouldn’t pick up the pen for isagi considering that isagi’s the main character, unless the “bad” art is intentional.

i’d also like to point out that we haven’t seen isagi smile in the past few chapters. we can justify the nagireo centric chapters that isagi barely had any screen time in those chapters. but in chapter 301 and 303, where isagi is heavily involved, he just has a blank face. in every single chill blue lock chapter we’ve had in the manga, isagi always either has a smile or an emotional expression. but he’s not smiling. in chapter 301, when thousands of fans are chanting his name and he does a fist pump, he doesn’t smile.

i also want to make the acknowledgment that blue lock has seemingly tried to emphasize the parallels between isagi and kaiser. kaiser is a character who never believed that he was human due to the abuse that he father had inflicted upon him as a child, and kaiser always believed that he was shit and that he was a loser species of human. meanwhile, isagi grew up in a kind and loving household. but in recent chapters, isagi has almost begun to view himself as an inhuman being while ness is making an effort to heal kaiser from his trauma. while isagi is “evolving” and going to a level of human to a higher being, kaiser is going from a piece of shit to human.

and one last thing. in chapter 303, ego calls himself “the god of the [blue lock] project”. we all know isagi and ego’s parallels, and i hope we all know that a god is a deity or higher divine being. one that isn’t human. take that evidence as you will.

so i 100% agree with this theory. im gonna be real here: this theory genuinely just made isagi my favorite character. rin is now a close second.

[wolvietxt]

𝓻oom 𝓯or 𝓶ore ??

pairing : dean winchester x female!reader warnings : food mentions, forced proximity, frenemies to lovers, crying, hurt / comfort, offhand comments, fluff, kiss wc : 3.3k a/n : hello supernatural fandom🙋‍♀️ i’m only on season two yet sorry if anything seems off, also taglist form here (i’ve finally added dean + sam)

the diner was loud, the clatter of plates and hum of conversation filling the space as dean leaned back in the booth, looking way too pleased with himself. he’d already finished his burger, one arm slung casually over the back of the seat while his other hand nursed a cup of coffee. sam, as usual, was glued to his laptop, scrolling through case notes like his life depended on it.  

you stabbed a fry into a pool of ketchup on your plate, glancing between the two brothers. "so, what’s the deal with this case? anything concrete yet, or are we still chasing theories?"  

sam didn’t look up, too focused on the screen. dean, on the other hand, smirked and tapped the edge of his mug. "chasing theories, sweetheart. that’s the fun part."  

"yeah, nothing screams fun like getting blindsided by a vetala or a skinwalker because someone didn’t do their homework," you shot back, arching a brow.  

dean grinned, the kind that always made you want to smack it right off his face. "don’t worry, i’ll save your ass. again."  

"oh, please," you scoffed, shaking your head. "the only thing you save is your own ego."  

sam finally chimed in, his voice calm as he flipped his laptop around to show the two of you a map. "four victims, all found in their homes, all with the same m.o. blood drained, no signs of forced entry. we’re looking at a vetala, but the pattern doesn’t quite fit. usually, they target travelers, not locals."  

"so, what’s the plan?" you asked, leaning forward.  

"we’ll hit the victims’ homes tomorrow," sam said, shutting the laptop. "for tonight, there’s a motel nearby. we can regroup there."  

"works for me," dean said, already sliding out of the booth.  

the drive to the motel was tense but quiet, aside from dean insisting on blasting some alice in chains track while you stared out the window, trying to ignore the knot of exhaustion twisting in your chest. by the time you pulled into the parking lot, all you wanted was a shower and some peace.  

"i’ll grab the rooms," sam offered, heading toward the front desk.  

dean stretched as he got out of the impala, giving you a sideways glance. "bet the rooms are gonna be just as glamorous as last time."  

"as long as they’re clean, i don’t care," you muttered, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  

a few minutes later, sam returned, holding two keys. his expression was almost apologetic as he handed one to dean.  

"is there a problem?" you asked as you approached him.

sam glanced back at you, looking sheepish. "there are only two rooms left."

"that’s fine," dean said easily. "i’ll take one, and you two can share."

"not happening," you and sam said in unison.

dean held up his hands, grinning. "okay, okay, relax. i’ll bunk with sam."

"actually," sam said, cutting in, "i already grabbed a key. figured i’d get first pick since i’m the one doing all the work."

your jaw dropped. "are you kidding me?"

"sorry," sam said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "but hey, at least you’re stuck with dean and not some random stranger, right?"

you glared at him, but he just flashed you a smug grin and gave a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into his room, a soft chuckle coming from his direction.

"great," you muttered.

dean jingled the remaining key in his hand, smirking. "c’mon, sweetheart, don’t look too excited. i don’t bite. unless you’re into that." he muttered, winking at you. 

"don’t call me sweetheart," you muttered, snatching the key from him and stomping toward the room.  

"aw, come on," dean said, following behind. "it’s not that bad. i’m great company."  

you didn’t dignify that with a response, shoving the door open and flicking on the light. the room was standard cheap motel fare: scratchy carpet, ugly wallpaper, and one double bed smack in the middle.  

"of course," you muttered under your breath.  

"well," dean said, tossing his duffel onto the bed, "this’ll be cozy."  

"you’re sleeping on the floor," you said flatly, dropping your bag onto the chair.  

he scoffed, already kicking off his boots. "yeah, that’s not happening. bad for my back."  

"your back?" you repeated, turning to glare at him. "what about my back?"  

he grinned, flopping onto the bed like he owned it. "you’ll survive."  

"you’re unbelievable," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.  

"relax, sweetheart," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "it’s just one night. unless you’re worried about me stealing the covers."  

"i’m worried about strangling you in your sleep," you muttered, grabbing your toiletries and heading for the bathroom.  

his laughter followed you, low and smug.  

when you returned, showered and slightly less irritated, dean was still sprawled across the bed, flipping through channels on the ancient tv.  

"move," you said, gesturing for him to scoot over.  

he rolled onto his side, patting the spot next to him. "plenty of room, baby. don’t be shy."  

you froze at the word, heat creeping up your neck. "don’t call me that."  

"what? you don’t like pet names?" he asked, smirking.  

"not from you," you snapped, climbing into bed as far from him as possible.  

he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "suit yourself, princess."  

you turned your back to him, willing yourself to sleep. but after a few minutes of silence, dean spoke again, his tone lighter now.  

"you know, for someone who acts so tough, you sure get wound up over the little things."  

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you asked, not turning around.  

"just saying," he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "you’re always trying so hard to prove something. it’s like you’re afraid if you’re not perfect, you’ll just... fade into the background or something."  

the words hit harder than you expected, and you felt your chest tighten.  

"wow," you said quietly, your voice colder now. "thanks for the psychoanalysis, dr. winchester."  

"hey, i didn’t mean - " he started, his voice accompanied by a hint of amusement.

"forget it," you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.  

dean didn’t say anything else, and after a while, you heard the tv click off. but sleep didn’t come easily, the sting of his words lingering long after the room went dark.  

the room was too quiet. the kind of quiet that made every little sound seem deafening: the creak of the mattress springs when dean shifted, the low hum of the heater kicking on, the rustle of the thin motel sheets.  

you lay on your side, staring at the wall. the pillow beneath your head felt stiff and lumpy, but that wasn’t what was keeping you awake. it was his words - flippant, thoughtless, but sharp enough to slice through you like a blade.  

"you’re always trying so hard to prove something... like you’re afraid if you’re not perfect, you’ll just fade into the background or something."

dean didn’t get it. he never did. it wasn’t just about proving something. it was about survival. you couldn’t afford to screw up - not in your line of work, not with the stakes so high. the constant pressure to be sharp, to be reliable, to be good enough - it wasn’t a choice. it was a necessity.  

and then dean had to come along and throw it in your face like some stupid joke.  

you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. the tears prickling at your eyes were unwelcome, hot and stubborn. you didn’t cry often - not over things like this. but tonight, with exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders and his words still echoing in your head, it was harder to hold back.  

on the other side of the bed, dean was still awake. you could hear his steady breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.  

"you asleep?" he muttered, voice low in the dark.  

you didn’t answer.  

"look, i didn’t mean anything by what i said earlier," he added after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "i was just messing around."  

still, you said nothing.  

he sighed, and you could picture him scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "fine. be mad. whatever."  

you turned back onto your side, curling into yourself as quietly as you could. you just wanted him to stop talking, stop prying at the wound he’d opened.  

a tear slipped free despite your best efforts, quickly followed by another. you pressed your face into the pillow, hoping the darkness would swallow your silent crying.  

but then dean spoke again, and his words hit you like a brick.  

"are you hugging the damn pillow?"  

your breath hitched. you weren’t hugging the pillow exactly, but you had one arm curled around it for some semblance of comfort. you stiffened, waiting for him to make another joke.  

and he did.  

"what, you need a cuddle buddy?" his voice was teasing, laced with that stupid humor he always used to deflect.  

"shut up, dean," you said, your voice cracking in a way that made you wince.  

the laughter in his voice faded immediately. "wait... are you - "  

"don’t," you snapped, your throat tight. "just don’t."  

the room went dead silent. for a moment, you thought maybe he’d dropped it, that he’d roll over and go to sleep. but then the bed shifted, and you felt him sit up.  

"hey," he said softly. "what’s going on?"  

you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.  

"come on, talk to me," he pressed, his voice gentle now. "did i say something? because if i did..." he trailed off, exhaling a long breath. "damn it. i’m sorry, okay? i’m an idiot. we both know that."  

you let out a shaky breath, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your shirt. "it’s fine. just forget it."  

"yeah, no," he said, moving closer. "you don’t get to say ‘it’s fine’ when you’re over there crying into the pillow."  

"i’m not crying into the pillow," you muttered, your voice muffled.  

"baby," he said, the word soft and warm and startlingly tender. "you can’t lie to me. i can hear it."  

your breath hitched at the nickname. it wasn’t one he used often, and when he did, it wasn’t like this - low and soothing, like he was trying to piece you back together.  

"just drop it," you said, curling tighter into yourself.  

"not happening," he said firmly. you felt the bed dip as he leaned closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. "look at me."  

"no."  

"please," he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.  

you hesitated before slowly rolling onto your back, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. his face was close, the dim light from the streetlamp outside casting soft shadows over his features.  

"what did i say?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.  

you bit your lip, the words sticking in your throat, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. but the way he was looking at you - like he actually cared - made it harder to hold them back.  

"you said..." you started, then stopped, your chest tightening. "you said i’m trying too hard. like... like i’m afraid i’m not good enough."  

his face fell, and you saw the exact moment he realized how much his words had hurt. "oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his hand finding yours. "i didn’t mean that. i swear. i was just being a jackass, like always."  

you shook your head, blinking back fresh tears. "it’s not just that, dean. it’s... everything. the way you always joke around, like nothing’s serious. like none of this matters. but it does. it matters to me."  

he didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles. "you’re right," he said finally. "it does matter. and i should’ve thought about that before running my mouth."  

his honesty caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him, your defenses wavering.  

"you’re good at what you do," he said, his voice steady. "better than good. you’re smart and tough and... and hell, i don’t even know how you put up with me half the time. but you do. and i..." he hesitated, his green eyes searching yours. "i don’t want you to think i don’t see that. or that i don’t appreciate you. because i do."  

your breath caught, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the heater.  

"dean," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.  

he leaned closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "i mean it, baby," he said softly. "you mean a lot to me."  

the words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. before you could second-guess yourself, you tilted your head slightly, and his lips brushed against yours - tentative, testing.  

when he felt you kiss him back, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. he was solid and warm, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that made your heart pound. his fingers traced the curve of your back, dipping under the hem of your shirt just enough to make your skin tingle.  

you felt the roughness of his fingertips, the callouses from years of hunting and fighting. they were a stark contrast to the softness of his touch, a reminder of how layered he was - how carefully he’d built this facade that now felt like it was falling away. he moaned low into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you responded with a shiver, your hands finding their way to the hard lines of his chest.  

you couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch as you pressed your palms against him, as if the simple contact spoke volumes. his mouth moved against yours, claiming, exploring, every stroke of his tongue leaving a heat behind that was making it hard to think straight. his hands shifted, one moving up to cradle your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheek, the other slipping under the edge of your shirt again, skimming just above the curve of your hip.  

he pulled you tighter, until you were pressed fully against him, the soft fabric of his shirt brushing your skin. you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the way he seemed to anchor you to the moment, making sure you were there, right with him. it was dizzying, intoxicating, a heady mix of familiarity and newfound wonder that made you feel like you were on the edge of falling.

his mouth traveled to the corner of your jaw, down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made your skin burn. you gasped, a soft, involuntary sound that sent a surge of pride through him, made him growl low in his throat as he pulled you back into another kiss. his hands moved, now tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, making sure you felt every ounce of him, every single unspoken word he hadn’t said yet.  

when you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns along your jaw.

"you okay?" he almost cooed at you.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yeah. i think i am."  

"good," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "because i’m not going anywhere. not tonight. not ever."  

you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just leaned into him, letting his warmth and steady presence chase away the lingering ache in your chest.   

you woke to warmth. a heavy arm draped over your waist, the quiet rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. for a moment, you didn’t move. you let yourself sink into the comfort of it - the weight of his arm, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint smell of his aftershave still clinging to the air.  

then reality crept in, and your eyes blinked open. the events of the night before played on a loop in your mind: the fight, his apology, the kiss.  

you turned slightly, just enough to see him. dean was still asleep, his face softer in the early morning light. his lips, which had been pressed to yours just hours ago, were parted slightly, and his hair was sticking up in a way that would’ve made you laugh if your heart wasn’t pounding so hard.  

you were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice his eyes fluttering open until it was too late.  

"morning," he said, his voice low and gruff with sleep.  

"morning," you murmured, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were.  

he didn’t move his arm, didn’t pull away. instead, he tightened it slightly, drawing you closer.  

"you okay?" he asked, his tone soft but cautious, like he wasn’t sure where you stood after everything.  

you nodded, your cheeks warming. "yeah. i’m okay."  

his lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that always seemed to disarm you. "good."  

for a while, neither of you said anything. the quiet was comfortable this time, filled with the unspoken understanding that something between you had shifted.  

eventually, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "so, uh... about last night."  

his smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "yeah. look, if you’re having second thoughts, or if - "  

"i’m not," you said quickly, cutting him off.  

his brow furrowed. "you’re not?"  

you shook your head, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. "no. i’m not."  

relief washed over his features, and he let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. "good. because, uh... i meant what i said. all of it."  

"even the part where you called me baby?" you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

he chuckled, the sound low and warm. "especially that part."  

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in your chest easing. "you’re such a sap."  

"yeah, well, don’t get used to it," he said, but the teasing edge in his voice didn’t quite mask the affection in his eyes.  

before you could respond, there was a knock at the door.  

"you two decent?" sam’s voice called from the other side.  

you froze, your eyes widening as you looked at dean. he just smirked, clearly amused by your panic.  

"yeah, come on in," he called back, his tone casual.  

"dean!" you hissed, scrambling to sit up and tugging the blanket higher over yourself, even though you were fully dressed.  

the door opened, and sam stepped in, his eyes immediately darting between the two of you. his brows raised slightly, but he didn’t say anything.  

"breakfast?" he offered, holding up a brown paper bag.  

"thanks, sammy," dean said, sitting up and stretching like he hadn’t just been caught in bed with you.  

sam set the bag on the table, his expression carefully neutral. "we should hit the road soon. got another lead a few towns over."  

"got it," dean said, already reaching for the bag.  

as sam left, you turned to dean, your eyes narrowing. "you’re impossible, you know that?"  

"what? it’s not like we were doing anything wrong," he said, unbothered.  

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. "you’re lucky i like you."  

"damn right i am," he said, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your temple.  

and just like that, the tension was gone, replaced by the easy banter that had always defined your relationship - only now, there was something softer beneath it. something real.  

as you packed up and got ready to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope. the road ahead was uncertain, as it always was, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.  

you glanced at dean as he loaded the bags into the impala, the sunlight catching in his hair. he looked over his shoulder, catching you watching him, and smirked.  

"you coming, baby?"  

you rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. "yeah, i’m coming."  

and as you slid into the passenger seat, the familiar rumble of his impala’s engine beneath you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe - just maybe - this was the start of something good.  

🌀 dean winchester : @person-005

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[aninipanin1]

I love your manager reader fics 💕💖💕

I'm curious about adult manager reader first interaction with the world 5 tho 👀 you only write them a bit in passing but I love to read more about em

MISS RIGHT

Notes: I am so glad you asked for this AHAHAHAH and thank you so much for the support

"You all will be staying here until the matches start, which is scheduled until the end of the second selection. You will be alerted of when this is, so as of now, you all can do whatever it is you wish, even heading out of the facility if ever."

Anri nodded her head at the five players from all over the world, trying her best to make sure her English was atleast understandable. The players did not seem to pay attention to her words all that much, just nodding off at the brief explanation. After all, they were just after the check and well, a few of their own personal agendas. Not anything serious. And well, Anri did not mind at all, leaving them the moment all was said and done.

The facility was rather big, well it was big from the outside but on the inside, it was definitely bigger. Especially since they heard it housed more than 200 teenagers, who all lived here. Well, surely it has to be really big to be comfortable, or it's not and its conditions are inhumane which would definitely get the authorities involved, especially since most of the participants were minors. So that means it was the former.

And with that, each of the 5 foreign players headed somewhere to quell their boredom.

LEONARDO LUNA

The Spanish player found himself resting in one of the lounge areas of the separated stratum for the staffs to work on to avoid any of the players seeing him and finding out the second plan for their second selection.

He scrolled through his phone mindlessly, finding it a tad bit boring since there was really nothing new about the topics that he liked in general. And he would have continued to be bored until he heard a minor 'thud' hit the floor near him. He admitted, it made his heart jump, and his head whipped in the direction immediately.

Thankfully, it was not as bad as he thought it was, seeing the thud was of a huge pile of papers instead of the person themself slipping on the floor. Like the supposed gentleman he was, he walked to yoh and helped with gathering the scattered paperwork.

"Thank you so much! Sorry for the bother!"

You said, continuously bowing her head while scampering to pick up the paper. It was in Japan's native language, so Luna had no way of understanding what the words were. However, understanding the apologetic tone and the many bows that he knows are respect of some sort in the culture of Japan, he had a vague idea at least.

'Must be something like thank you in Japanese...?'

"It's nothing, Miss-"

He cut himself off, though, when he looked down at the contents of the papers in his hands. It was printed with different japanese texts, all he could not understand, but there are drawings and sketches about some sort of strategy for a real 11 vs 11 match, probably for practice sessions.

But, the placements of the positions were definitely... interesting and even unconventional, to say the least. But, it peeked his interest enough for him to ask you about it.

"Hmm, may I ask Miss. Did you make these?"

Realizing that you were talking to THE Leonardo Luna made you nervous. Clearing your throat, you nodded and spoke in English to try and hopefully cross the language barrier.

"Yes, I did, Sir. Um, I'm the manager and a helper of Ego-san when it comes to training the players."

"Hmm."

He hummed, and that only made the nerves worse. You knew he was judging the positions of the practice sheets you made, which were all just theories you made and have yet to test out. But, here it was, being looked at by a world class player.

'Out of all my work, why this one?!' You panicked in your mind.

However, instead of the scrutiny you thought it would face, he looked to be impressed. Eyes moving about the paper and his mind seeming to run about how each scenario may work, and needless to say, he was impressed with how you formed such a creative way of arranging players with differing talents and skills.

He then looked at you. For someone who does not look like much, you exceeded his expectations. He'd give it to you, you have a creative yet logical and sound mind, a mix of opposing characteristics but meshed well in the sport.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Luna?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. Just continue being creative, Ms. I like the way your brain works."

He said, leaning close to your face with a smirk filled with mischief and a hint of amazement. Huh, looks like this place is not that bad. He thought the people in here either ranged from crazy to idiotic, but, there are still some people here that is worth the attention.

Needless to say, your first impression on him was more than good.

ADAM BLAKE

It was a few days before the end of the second selection was set, and you were as busy as ever. Stopping by a water fountain set up around the facility, you stopped for a moment to refill your water tumbler while balancing your tablet.

It did not take long before you finished the small task, but before you left the place, you felt someone behind you, his closeness apparent from the way you felt his breath touch the nape of your skin and his body slightly against your back as if your sixth sense themselves felt the pinch of the person's presence.

"Well, well...I did not know there was a beautiful manager around here."

You stopped typing on your tablet before turning around to find yourself face to face with the infamous English player. He was almost twice the size of you, having the advantage of playing a sport professionally and all.

And that fact intimidated you, gulping at the flirtatious smirk on his face as he leaned even more to you while you pulled back to try and avoid his face as much as you could.

"Um, pardon, sir-"

"Adam is fine, sweethcheeks. Damn, you're even prettier up close."

'What is even happening...'

The proximity made you even more nervous and confused. Out of all the people, it was you that he had to approach? And besides, does he not feel shame that there are cameras around the facility or the fact that someone may just pass by and walk in on you two like this? Oh, the scandal that might ensue will ruin your whole career!

And you being quite responsible, knew that the only way to avoid that was to avoid the man himself. So you did just that, calm and sweetly letting him down as best as you can without having to anger him or potentially your and his career.

"Um, I'm so sorry, Mr. Blake, but I have to go and do my work." You tried to walk to his side and escape, only for him to slide in front of you again, the smirk on his face growing wider.

"Hey now, there's no need to be scared. I don't bite, unless you want me to."

He used the fact that he was double your size, trapping you to receiving his flirtatious words and gazes. Truthfully, before he saw you, he was starting to get bored due to the lack of entertainment in the facility. So, when he heard there was a female manager walking around the facility that was his age, he wanted to see what you were about.

And well, at first he was disappointed. You looked...plain. Not bad looking, in fact, you were pretty, but very much like a plain Jane. Maybe it was because he was used to seeing the most beautiful of actors and models that he is a bit insentivized with appearances, and that was how he felt.

But, the moment you did catch his attention was when he heard Luna start to talk about you. The Spanish player would always mention you in passing conversations about football and just general topics, he seemed to genuinely love to talk about you and about how you were supposedly smart and unique in your own ways.

At first, he was annoyed at this. He just could not shut up about you, can't he? But, he wanted to look at this from another perspective. So, here he was now, trying his best to find out what was so interesting about you in the best way he knew possible. He was bored too, so why not?

"Um please, I really have to go."

"Ah-ah, not yet, sweetheart. Why not stay here for a bit? I can-"

But to his surprise, you were not taking 'no's seriously, only your job was serious in your mind and at that current moment, you really needed to continue it. So, you crouched and ran out of his hold before scurrying away like a skittish animal.

"I'm so sorry, sir! But I really needed to go. Bye."

You kept the politeness before vanishing through the many halls of the facility, leaving him starstrucked. In all his life, there had been many instances of him being rejected. Sure, most of the time the girls were more than willing to flirt with him, but that does not mean there have been a few share who immediately turned him down.

So why was this different?

It was probably the way your eyes looked. Instead of the usual flushed expression followed by an annoyed tone, instead he was met with only a distracted haze in your eyes. Like, your mind did not even set in the fact that he was flirting with you, that you were too focused in whatever you were about to do.

Like you were close to clueless about his intentions. Or maybe, you just did not care at all, finding your job much more fulfilling and important to pay attention to.

And this ignited something in him. He always did love a bit of a challenge in everything, especially women. He'll take on the challenge of making you start to pay attention to him, to the point that you will be distracted by him.

'Hm, let's see how much you interest me even more as time passes, Miss Y/n.'

PABLO CAVAZOS

"You mean, I don't look good in green?"

The Argentinian frowned at the advice, not in a malicious way that he disregarded your opinion, but in a disappointed way that one of his main favourite colors to wear clashed with his bright hair.

"That doesn't mean you can't wear it anymore though. I think a muted green would look really good, just not neon green."

You added with a smile. Out of all the players in World 5, you became the closest with Cavazos a lot (with a few exceptions), and this was due to how in some strange way, you two had a lot in common. From your likes in food and entertainment to the love of cute things and even some of your habits.

And that all started with this certain conversation when the player walked out of his room wearing a neon green sweater, and you being you, started to talk about possible combinations of color that may fit him as well as color theory for some reason.

"But, I think monochrome fits you the best. So your eyes and hair can pop even more!"

Now, Pablo was a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and he did not care for what other people usually told him. Due to his eccentric looks, he was always the point of attention, someone people would pay attention to immediately in a large room whether it was for good or not.

He has been told most of his life how to present himself. What are the best ways to suit his features with something. To wear something that would get the attention off of his hair and eyes and instead have it mix in with the rest of his outfit, or to even cut his hair so he won't be as distracting. But, one moment, it's as if he had some sort of epiphany.

He realized that those people, were not looking out for him as he thought they initially. Instead, they wanted him to stop shining because of who he really is. They wanted to take his star quality and shine away, the things that made him unique out of everyone in the world.

So he stopped listening to what everyone said, and instead, he tried to try and stand out more, to take more space in the eyes of the people, strangers or not. To reject any type of rejection towards his true self.

Atleast, that's what he should do with you. To tell you to stop giving him opinions that just take away to who he truly is. But, instead he listens intently, nodding and even sparing a smile at some lighthearted jokes you'd mix in.

Why? He doesn't know why, either. Maybe it was the tone of your voice. One filled with happiness and genuineness, not that of condescension. You just gave genuine advice, not force them unto him, the shine in your eyes telling him there was no malice or want to suppress him, but instead a longing to find him succeed in even something so small like clothing choices.

So, he listens to you ramble about color theory and takes into mind what you were telling him, even at the expense of changing his fashion choices.

And you continued your mindless chatter, until you realized that you did not have any position to tell a man of his fame and standing what to do, when everything he currently did seemed to work.

On reflex, you tried covering your mouth, gasping a bit at the realization.

"I'm so sorry for babbling too much! I-"

But, he only cut you off. Taking your wrist in his hand, his face remaining emotionless and cool as he just shook his head.

"No, no. I like all your advice. Please continue."

DADA SILVA

"How am I even going to carry all of these?"

You mumbled as you looked at the large boxes that were in the storage room, all stacked upon each other. You can already feel the strain on your back and bones at the prospect of carrying the heavy boxes and transferring them to another room.

The current storage room was deemed a bit big to just be a storage room, so to make use of the space, everything in it will be transferred in a different and smaller room. Unfortunately for you, you were the only one currently available to make the move.

Not complaining anymore, you used your brain to make the move a bit easier. Using carts and other contraptions to move the heavy boxes. But of course, even with this, moving dozens of heavy boxes was not an easy feat for one woman.

"Ugh, just a few more...and then maybe, I can get some rest."

But to your surprise, the box in your hand that was a point of struggle for you was taken out of your hands gently. Blinking at the sudden predicament, you looked up to find a familiar figure standing tall, his arms carrying the boxes with ease as if they did not have any significant weight to them.

"Pardon for the sudden intrusion, but I can't just let a lady continue struggling."

"Oh, Sir Silva, you didn't have to-"

"It's nothing. It's only a few boxes."

He shrugged and continued the walk, you led the way, hand still pushing the rest of the boxes on the cart now that your hands were free. If you were not gonna lie, you definitely felt somewhat nervous.

Why would you not be? You let someone like THE Dada Silva help you out in something so miniscule. Sure, he offered, but he was legit being paid millions by the facility and the JFU, and you were letting him do peasant work? Oh, how the heads will kill you if they find out the stunt you pulled.

Nevertheless, you gave a bright smile filled with gratitude.

"Thank you so much for the help, Mr. Silva...I am REALLY sorry for inconveniencing you."

The man could not help the soft smile that pulled on his face. The look in your eyes, even the fidgety look in your figure, definitely showed how genuine you were about the gratitude and apology. Not that he wanted one. It was just common sense for a man to help a lady that he could see was in need.

But, it did feel a little lighter and more fun when you gave him the sweetest thank you and smile he was ever given by anyone.

You had been the talk between the rest of his fellow players. From Luna's neverending praise for your intelligence and creativity, to Cavazos' rain of appreciation and mentions of your open and kind personality, and even Blake's nonstop plans of wanting to impress you himself, and supposedly redeem himself in your eyes, whatever that meant.

So, naturally, he got curious, too. All the words they threw about you were all a jumbled mess, different perspectives of different people towards one individual. And so, due to this, he cannot really make out who you really were or what type of person you were.

So, he went to investigate himself, not wanting to rely on hearsay. He approached you, finding it a good moment to see you struggling with the boxes. It can be less awkward when he has another reason to talk with you other than his own curiousity!

And, he can safely say he can definitely see what each of them talked about. Your words carried hidden intelligence to them, your words being softly spoken yet had a sharpness to them that only someone with a deep understanding of the topic can ever hold.

He can also see that you were sweet to the core. Just your aura alone exuded that same kindness your voice did, making him ease to you. When was the last time he had a very innocent interaction with someone, especially a woman, like this again?

Now, it was not that he villainized everybody around him. No, he knew some people who were genuinely good. But most of them were only good to him due to some sort of agenda that hid deep in their hearts. Whether it is a professional relation filled with nothing but serious countenance and formal conversations, or a more give and take relationship, one that was a bit more intimate, but not something genuine. Instead, it was all about what to receive off of pretending to be in a more personal relationship, either supposed friendship or romantic relations.

But with this, it feels so much more freeing. So much more chill and flowy, like the careless waves of the ocean. One that was there just because of mutual respect towards each other as human beings who have complex emotions and feelings.

"Thank you for the small conversation, Mr. Silva! It definitely cured my boredom in moving these boxes."

"Like I said, it's nothing, Ms. Y/n. I had fun too."

For now, there was nothing much to it. Just two people having fun talking to the other, finding the difference and similarities between the other entertaining enough for the genuine laughter.

But, who's to say this moment filled with a barrage of kaleidoscope colors is a one-off thing that can never repeat in this supposed monotonous facility?

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Y/n: *Accidentally rizzing the four World 5 members.*

Meanwhile, Y/n with Loki: You're really cute. I can adopt you too like the other 300 under boys I already adopted-

Loki: ...pardon?

I hate school so much, but your girl has to keep her honour student shebang cause why not?

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[elliesbabygirl]

ch. 007 ⇄ ch. 008; I Caught Myself - Paramore

"You're pushin' and pullin' me down to you"

my masterlist.

word count: 4.3k words

series synopsis: friends with benefits, that's what ellie wanted. yet, she can't let you go, even after the messy 'breakup' between the two of you.

warnings: swearing, kissing, emotional talking(?), lesbians not knowing how to properly communicate with each other about their relationship, and me still not proof reading this (or any ch) for that matter.

Author's note: hi my cuties!! Welcome to ch. 008 🔥🔥 I know, it's been a crazy ride and I want to thank you guys so much for reading my silly story about a hot lesbian. I've been feeling much better, hence ch. 008 being here, but I also want to thank you guys for the condolences you guys left me, it means the world to me, and I really am coping in a good(?) way, so thank you guys for your kind words🩷 now who's ready for ch. 008??

You sat slouched in the back of the psych lecture hall, barely pretending to take notes. The screen of your laptop was open, but the blinking cursor on a blank document said enough. The professor’s words passed through you like static. None of it stuck.

Your eyes had drifted forward long ago, to her.

Ellie.

She was sitting at the front of the hall, as far away as she could be without leaving the room entirely. You caught the way she tugged at the ends of her sleeves, the anxious twist of her fingers over the worn fabric of her hoodie. That small, familiar movement tugged something inside you, a chord that hadn’t stopped vibrating since the day everything fell apart.

It had been a month.

A month since that fight. Since the accusations and sharp-edged words. Since you said things you didn’t fully mean and meant things you never got to say. A month without seeing her—really seeing her. And yet here she was, just rows ahead, and it felt like you could feel her even if you closed your eyes.

Your phone was warm in your pocket from how many times you’d unlocked it and slid into your text messages.

Ellie’s name stared back at you in bold letters. You’d hovered there too many times, your thumb typing things out only to delete them, again and again.

“Hey.”

“I miss you.”

“Are you okay?”

Pathetic.

You told yourself not to care. You’d made your choice, and so had she. But no matter how much time passed, you still found yourself scanning crowds, wondering if she was somewhere near.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. What would she say if you did reach out? Would she respond? Would she even want to?

Your chest ached with a longing you didn’t know what to do with. Torn between missing her and reminding yourself why you shouldn’t.

And still—your eyes didn’t leave her.

Not for a second.

The lecture dragged on, the professor’s voice echoing through the hall as he launched into a breakdown of psychodynamic theory. Terms like “ego defense mechanisms” and “unconscious drives” bounced off the walls, but you weren’t really listening.

Your eyes were fixed on the back of Ellie’s head—her auburn hair messier than usual, curling slightly at the ends like she’d ran her fingers through it too many times. She was hunched over, hands fidgeting in her lap, and even from your spot in the last row, you could tell she wasn’t taking notes.

You hadn’t spoken in a month. No texts, no accidental run-ins. Just silence.

And yet here she was, barely a few rows away, and you could still pick up on every small tick of hers like you’d memorized her.

Because you had.

You caught yourself again, thumb hovering over her name in your messages. You’d opened the chat at least ten times this morning alone—typed a few words, deleted them, stared at the blinking cursor. You wanted to say something. Anything. But the guilt still weighed heavy in your chest.

Suddenly, your name was called.

The professor, arms crossed, looked directly at you from the front. “Tell me—what does the psychodynamic approach say about repressed emotions in relation to adult behavior?”

You blinked yourself back into your body, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Ellie was turned in her seat, staring back at you with wide, red-rimmed eyes, like seeing you—hearing your name out loud—had cracked something in her.

You swallowed, your voice steadier than you expected when it finally came out.

“The psychodynamic approach suggests that repressed emotions, especially from childhood, influence unconscious behaviors and patterns in adulthood. It’s the idea that what we don’t face ends up controlling us.”

There was a pause. The professor gave a nod, turning to address the rest of the class. “Exactly. Freud believed unresolved conflict leads to internal tension that manifests in adult life, sometimes through defense mechanisms like repression or projection.”

You barely heard the rest of his explanation. Ellie hadn’t turned back around.

She was still looking at you, something soft and wrecked written across her face.

And for the first time in weeks, something unspoken passed between the two of you—something heavier than guilt, deeper than anger. Something like longing. Like maybe she was remembering the way your voice used to sound when it wasn’t being used to answer a question about repression.

You looked down, pretending to refocus on your notes, even though your hand was trembling.

You knew the answer. You’d known it before the professor even finished the question.

But it hit differently now—especially with Ellie looking at you like that.

What we don’t face ends up controlling us.

The door had barely clicked shut behind you when Ellie surged forward, pulling you into her with a kind of desperation that made it hard to breathe. Her lips found yours fast, mouths clashing with urgency, teeth clicking, breath heavy between kisses. You should’ve stopped her—should’ve said something, anything—but the words were tangled in your throat and drowned under the pounding of your pulse.

Her hands were everywhere; at your waist, in your hair, gripping the back of your shirt like she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go. Your own fingers betrayed you, sliding beneath the hem of her hoodie, tracing up the bare skin of her back, relearning what you’d sworn to forget.

“We should talk,” you whispered, somewhere between gasps, somewhere between her kisses.

Ellie nodded, forehead against yours, breath shaky. “Yeah. We should.”

But neither of you stopped.

Your mouths found each other again, like magnets. Like muscle memory. Her kisses were all desperate and filled with heartbreak, soft groans caught in her throat when your hands splayed across her ribs. You knew this was dangerous—knew where it could lead—but it was too easy to get lost in her. Too easy to ignore the words you owed each other.

Later, you’d talk later.

What we don’t face ends up controlling us.

Right now, the silence between you said enough.

The room was still, save for the soft creak of the fan above and the quiet sounds of your breathing settling after everything. The comforter was half-off the bed, tangled at your feet. Ellie was next to you, her hand loosely resting near yours, eyes trained on the ceiling like it might give her the words she was struggling to find.

Neither of you had spoken since the last kiss, the one that tasted more like grief than desire.

“I know this sounds stupid,” Ellie said finally, voice small, barely above a whisper, “but I kept feeling like I was still fighting for you. Even after you… picked me.”

You turned your head slowly to look at her. She didn’t meet your gaze. Her jaw was tight, her brows pinched like she hated herself for even saying it.

“I didn’t feel like yours,” she added, breath shaky. “I felt like Abby still had some piece of you that I couldn’t reach.”

“That’s not fair,” you said, gentle but honest.

“I know,” she breathed out, eyes fluttering shut. “It’s not. I just—every time we were together, I kept wondering if you’d leave again. If you’d realize she was safer, or easier, or less of a mess than me.”

You sat up slightly, wrapping the sheet around your bare chest. “Els, I left her for a reason.”

“But did you really leave her,” she said, finally turning to face you, “or did you just… fall into me because I showed up first?”

The question hit you square in the chest.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, quietly. “I thought I did. I wanted to, but it got messy. You know it did.”

Ellie’s throat worked around her next words. “I didn’t want to be the second choice, even when I was the one you came back to.”

Your fingers reached for hers again, hesitant. “You weren’t second, els. You were the one I couldn’t let go of. That’s what made it all so fucking confusing.”

She let you hold her hand, didn't pull away.

“I just want to feel like I’m enough for you,” Ellie whispered, her voice cracking. “Not someone you’re with in spite of everything, but someone you want. Fully. Without the guilt, or the shame, or the—”

“I do want you,” you interrupted, voice shaking. “Even when I hated myself for it, even when I was lying. Even when I didn’t know how to love you right.”

Ellie looked at you like she was trying to believe it.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to hers, your breaths tangled. “I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

Her voice trembled against your cheek. “Then don’t leave, not again. Not ever, please”

“I won’t,” you whispered. “But you have to stay, too. You can’t shut me out when it’s hard, els”

Ellie nodded, slow and silent, her lashes wet. “Okay.”

The two of you stayed like that—tethered by your foreheads, hands laced together between you, grief and longing pressing into your ribs like waves. Nothing was perfect. Nothing was healed. But maybe—just maybe—you were finally starting to talk.

The morning crept in slow through the blinds, casting pale slits of light across the sheets tangled around your legs. The air in the room was still, hushed in that fragile way that mornings sometimes were, like the whole world was holding its breath.

You were already half-awake, eyes heavy, face turned towards Ellie before you even fully realized it. She was still sleeping, chest rising and falling in that steady, familiar rhythm you’d memorized a long time ago. Her brow was relaxed, lips slightly parted, the smallest smudge of sleep still clinging to her expression.

It felt strange—peaceful, but like standing at the edge of something uncertain.

A moment later, her eyelids fluttered open slowly, as if sensing your gaze. She blinked once. Then again. Her green eyes met yours.

“Hi,” she murmured, voice hoarse from her sleep.

You smiled faintly, your cheek still pressed into the pillow. “Hi.”

Neither of you moved. You just stayed there, watching each other like you weren’t sure what was safe to say yet.

Ellie gave a tiny, barely-there smile. The kind that was more in her eyes than her mouth. She shifted a little under the blanket but didn’t reach for you, not yet.

“You sleep okay?” she asked after a moment, quiet.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yeah. You?”

She shrugged gently. “Better than I thought I would.”

Another beat of silence. Then you exhaled slowly and reached across the narrow space between you two, brushing your fingers against her hand, unsure if it was too much, but Ellie didn’t pull away. She let your hand rest there, her thumb lightly grazing yours.

The light was warmer now, the silence less heavy. Still cautious. Still unspoken things hovering between you. But for now, this was enough.

You eventually peeled yourself out of bed, limbs a little stiff from how long you’d been lying there. Ellie followed suit, slower, rubbing at her eyes like she wasn’t ready to leave the safety of the covers. She looked at you again, expression unreadable.

“I, uh…” She scratched the back of her neck, voice low and a bit unsure. “Was gonna make breakfast. If you’re hungry.”

Your first instinct was to shake your head. “Ellie, you don’t have to—”

“You should eat,” she said, a bit too fast, a bit too soft. She avoided your eyes as she crossed the room, grabbing the wrinkled sweatshirt that had landed on the back of a chair. “You didn’t eat last night.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but something about the way she tugged the sleeves over her hands shut you up. There was a nervous energy in her movements, like she needed to do something, anything, to fill the silence.

She looked back at you briefly. “Toast, maybe? Or eggs?” Her voice cracked a little on the last word. “Just—just something simple.”

You nodded slowly, watching her retreat to the kitchen. She wasn’t pushing because she thought you were helpless. She was doing it because she didn’t know what else to do. Because her hands still didn’t know how to stay idle around you. Because maybe this was her way of saying; I still care.

You followed her into the kitchen after a few minutes. She had already pulled a pan out and was fumbling with the stovetop, mumbling something under her breath about the burner not lighting properly.

She looked up at you as you leaned in the doorway. “You can sit, y’know. I’ll handle it.”

You sat and watched her try to act casual as she moved around the tiny kitchen, mumbling about whether or not she had any clean plates left. Her hands were shaking slightly when she cracked the eggs.

And despite everything—despite the silence, the months of pain, the uncertainty in the air—you found yourself smiling, just a little. Because this was Ellie. Still trying. Still showing up. Even if she didn’t know how to say the right things yet.

The eggs weren’t great. A little too much salt. The toast was uneven—one slice burned on one side, the other barely golden. Ellie muttered a quiet “shit” under her breath when she noticed, but you didn’t say anything. You just took the plate she offered, sitting with her at the small table by the window that filtered in the gentle morning light.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, the only sound being your forks clinking against mismatched plates. But it wasn’t the kind of silence that demanded to be filled. It was something softer. Careful. Like the both of you were afraid to breathe too hard in case the spell of tentative peace cracked apart.

Ellie glanced up once, caught your eyes, then quickly looked away, cheeks flushed. “It’s not, like, good, but…”

“It’s fine,” you said, offering a small, real smile. “Thanks for making it.”

She nodded, a little awkward and took a sip of her lukewarm coffee.

After breakfast, she lingered in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes even though you offered to help. You leaned against the counter besides her anyway, elbows brushing every so often as she worked, and neither of you moved away.

“What… what do you wanna do today?” she finally asked. Her voice was quiet, testing the waters.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Something small.”

Ellie dried her hands on a towel. “We could….take a walk? There’s that spot near the skate park—you liked it last time.”

You gave her a look. “Where you almost broke your ankle trying to show off?”

She cracked the tiniest grin, looking down. “Okay, yeah, that's fair.”

But you nodded. “Let’s go.”

The day passed in slow, gentle pieces. You walked without any real destination, ending up near a bench by the water. Ellie sat close, knees brushing, arms folded as she stared out at the rippling lake. Every so often, she’d look over at you, like she was waiting for the right moment to say something, but it never quite came.

You shared ice cream later, passing the cup back and forth between bites. Ellie got a little bit on her lip, and before you could stop yourself, your thumb reached up and wiped it away. She blinked at you, stunned still for a second, before giving you that rare look—the one where her whole face softened, like you’d just made the world stop spinning for a second.

“I missed this,” she mumbled.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

By the time you both made it back to her place, it was dsrk. The light in her room was dim, the window cracked to let in some breeze. She handed you a hoodie—clean this time—and you changed quietly, moving around each other with a strange comfort that hadn’t quite left, even after everything.

You sat on the couch. She sat besides you, a little too close. Her arm brushed yours again.

Neither of you moved away.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” Ellie admitted, staring at her hands.

You looked at her. “At what?”

She met your eyes, voice small. “Us. Like… after everything. I don’t know if I can fix it. I don’t even know if I should try.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know either. But I’m here. I’m still here, Ellie.”

The silence between you two stretched out, but it didn’t feel cold. If anything, it pulsed—like something waiting to be named.

You sat side by side on the couch, your knees pulled up loosely, Ellie’s leg pressing against yours in the space between you. The TV flickered some background noise neither of you were watching. You could feel her breathing—could feel her staring, even when you weren’t looking back.

“I keep thinking about that night,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You knew which one she meant.

You shifted slightly, not pulling away, not leaning in—just breathing through the weight of her words.

“I wanted to talk to you after,” she went on. “I just— I panicked. It felt like if I said the wrong thing, you’d be gone again.”

You turned your head and met her eyes, saw how raw she still was. And maybe you were too.

“I was already gone, Ellie. That’s the part you didn’t want to admit.”

Her lips parted like she was going to argue, then closed again. “I know.”

There was a long pause before you said, “But I’m here now.”

Something shifted in her. Her shoulders slumped, the tension falling from her jaw, her throat moving as she swallowed hard. You reached for her hand without really thinking—and she let you.

Her fingers laced through yours like it was muscle memory.

She looked at you like she didn’t believe you were real. Then, slowly, she leaned in. Her mouth brushed against yours like it was asking a question.

It was softer than it had been the last time. More hesitant. You could feel her breath shaking as it hit your cheek.

You kissed her back.

Gently, first. The kind of kiss that was a statement; I’m still here, too.

Then again, her hand came up to cup your jaw, the warmth of her palm grounding you. She pulled back just an inch, her forehead pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t wanna hurt you again,” she murmured.

“You already did,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I still don't want you.”

Your hands met under her hoodie, your palm resting flat against her ribcage, feeling the subtle tremble there. She leaned into your touch like it steadied her. Like she’d been waiting for it. For you.

“I missed you,” she said again, like repetition made it more true.

You nodded, your breath catching. “Then don’t stop.”

Her lips found yours again, and this time, there was more heat to it. A little more desperation. The way her hand threaded into your hair, slow but firm. The way you guided her back so she lay against the cushions, and you hovered just above, her gaze locked to yours like she was terrified it would all fall apart if she even blinked.

There was a quiet reverence in the way she touched you now—like this time, it couldn’t be rushed. Like she needed to memorize you all over again. And you let her.

Because even if everything was still tender and unresolved, you both wanted this.

Wanted each other.

You lay tangled on the couch, legs brushed together, her hoodie bunched at your waist, her lips ghosting over your neck like she didn’t know if she was allowed to stay there. Neither of you said much—just exchanged soft breaths and tentative touches, relearning the shape of each other slowly. Ellie looked up at you once, eyes rimmed red, voice low as she murmured, “Still feels like I’m dreaming.” You didn’t know what to say to that, so you kissed her again, quietly, like an answer.

© elliesbabygirl - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

author's note: ch.008 is something, that's for sure 🔥🔥🔥There's still ch. 009; the finale but thank you so much you guys for reading, 'run your mouth', it's been such an incredible time with you guys, and i really do appreciate all of you guys for commenting on my series with each update i posted🩷. Ch. 009 is going to be a very happy (spoiler alert) and fluffy ending to this series so stay tuned!!!

TAGLIST: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @sleepingwasp @morticeras @violetszn @eriiwaii @elliesactualgirlfriend @mikellie @lovely-wisteria @idletyouruinme @losing-it-lately @robinphobia @sexlus @lez-zuha @liztreez @linabellaox @piscesfairyyy @sturniluvr @piercedome

[actuallyberriesarebananas]

Just My Type

Anime/Manga: Blue Lock by Muneyuki Kaneshiro

Itoshi Rin x GN!Reader (they/them)

Word Count: 2k+399

Summary: During an approaching winter in Shibuya, the Blue Lock boys went to fetch Nagi at the arcade to enjoy their week deserved break. However, they have stumbled to see BL's manager waiting in the cold and these teenage boys had come up with some interesting theories on your type of lover.

A/N: Reader is referred as manager here. It felt odd seeing Y/N xD I can't take it seriously after the whole AOT Y/N thing.

Also, I'm not a Rin fan but I like his character and thought the plot idea suits him hehe

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Isagi thought the day at Shibuya would go by smoothly, in contrast with the incoming traffic flowing beside their walking lane.

What he didn't expect though is having a rowdy group of boys (himself included) hiding concernigly and inconspicuously behind almost transparent bushes and two tall vending machines which unfortunately didn't conceal much since Bachira and Otoya kept unintentionally nudging their heads against each other to peek at the victim who had caused this predicament.

The others did not offer much help at the situation either when Isagi dejected at the side, seeing the tallest members of the group hiding behind small bushes. "Forgive us" he muttered your name in pity.

It did not feel right to be hiding like this from Blue Lock's resident assistant manager, who is by the looks of it enjoying their time off work considering the slight smile etched on their tired face.

Heavy eye-bags evident that must be—Isagi hypothesize—the results of being assigned to handle 300 lively, troubling, and passionate strikers. As intense as he is when it comes to soccer, he commends their manager for their unwavering dedication.

"I thought we were picking up Nagi?" Isagi questioned to no one in particular as originally they were supposed to pick up their friend at an arcade.

Otoya gave a quick glance at Isagi and back at their target, "No can do! We must unravel this mystery."

"What mystery?" Isagi dropped a cold sweat.

"The person our manager is waiting for." A hand rested on his shoulder and red hair swayed softly as Chigiri's face came to Isagi's view that drew closer over his shoulder now, seemingly trying to get a better view.

"Wa-wait- you don't mean?" Isagi hitched a quick breath at the revelation.

Now everything clicked. The small and rare smiles he'd see back at Blue Lock as you tapped your phone. Sudden gifts like chocolates, flowers, and other trinkets that had now became questioningly downright romantic he'd see you hold around the base. A freshly prepared warm meal of ochazuke within your hands, a dish not commonly seen inside quarters.

When Isagi and Bachira approached you to ask about it, you simply dismissed it with a proud smirk "It's for a silly guy who overworked to sickness." You walked away after. Isagi dumbfounded at the shocking news of possible favoritism inside this establishment, and who—since the beginning—claimed to treat everyone fairly whether in the good or bad way.

Isagi wondered if Ego is even aware of this and already readied a number of complaints to be—not that he will—filed against his unfair daily natto treatment. Bachira's words came off from deaf ears as he said something of sort praying for—a name, Isagi didn't catch—full recovery.

Coming back from memory lane, his eyes landed back at you. Standing in front of a bus stop, and from his guess before you weren't finding a ride instead your behavior appeared to be waiting for someone.

Your lips pressed. A jittered hand fixing your hair from time to time even though it looked fine the way it was a second ago. A paper bag tightly held between you fingers and palm, your nails digging in to exude the cold from this upcoming winter weather.

Whoever is making you wait, Isagi assured in his mind with no offense, is kind of a douche for leaving you waiting during a time of low temp.

But it might not be a big problem for you when you still have that adoring grin that even seemed to twinkle at the wait partnered with a soft blush. Isagi is not sure if it was from the cold or a person in your mind.

Reo hummed with keen interest with the bush people "It's hasty to assume a lover." He rubbed his chin in contemplation "What if it's a friend?"

Karasu gave an abrupt laugh "Oh please, you are the last person I'd ask input about lovers and friends."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Reo incredulously looked at the crouched boy with full unidentified offense, but a gentle pat on his back from Yukimiya stopped his troubles who only exchanged a smile.

Tokimitsu at his other side added nervously, "Y-you'll get it soon, I'm s-sure."

"What-"

Yukimiya intercepted, "I truly wonder what he's like."

"Someone of superb glam if they had captured the heart of our oh so reserved manager!" Aryu theatrically posed.

"Someone shy and quiet like them?" Isagi contributed.

Reo interjected in front of Isagi, "No, no! Same attributes don't go well. It's gotta be an opposites attract thing." Isagi drooped down at his rejected assumption. Guess his puzzle piece didn't fit right.

"Of course you're into the opposites attract shit." Karasu rolled his eyes in mock, then smirked.

"I don't know what you are trying to insinuate here, but if you keep that up I'll—"

"I heard from others back at Blue Lock that manager likes short guys. Take it with a grain of salt though." Yukimiya added to Reo's claim which the violet head huffed at the support.

Reo glanced complacent at Karasu who replied in an expression of disagreeance.

"Oooh, I do see them chatting with Kurona often." Bachira tapped a finger on his chin, but a smirk crossed his face, "But actually, I know full well of their height preference. Manager is a tall guy enjoyer!" The dual haired boy exclaimed proudly with his finger raised up in confidence.

Isagi jumped at the sudden raise of volume, he bended a bit near Bachira to whisper "Bachira! Tone it down, they'll hear us." He sighed at his usual energetic friend, "What makes you sure of that anyway?"

"Huh? I told you before Isagi! Manager likes—" a smooth hand interrupted Bachira.

"Well, I think he has good personality. I asked manager about it one time and they said, they admire a guy who's patient and understanding through the highs and lows in a relationship." Chigiri gave a lopsided smile with his answer backed up from the original source. Bachira mumbled against his palm to retaliate.

Tokimitsu slumped his shoulders at this, "How did you get that info out of them?"

This instance made everyone turn their heads toward Blue Lock's princess, his hand on his hip standing as proudly as he would feel kicking a skilled goal, "With the power of hair products."

Aryu stretched out his long skinny fingers, "So manager is interested in the opposites attract trope, has a preference for someone taller than them, prefers open-communication, and patience in a lover." He pushed his index finger on his opposite as he finished enumerating all their jumbled guesses into one, "Good taste, I say."

"Oops, you caught me guys. My bad." Otoya huffed out a smug, patting his chest with both hands as if he won something, "Sorry for not letting you guys know sooner. Bae, wanted to keep it on the down low—"

Otoya shrieked when an unexpected fist hit his head "And did I forget they also said they value loyalty!" Chigiri tsked.

As hushed commotion started to incur, Isagi heard a heightened squeak of wheels. He averted his eyes towards the bus stop and his body came to a stop catching their manager's eyes widened in anticipation. Their body straightened and their hold on the bag gripped harder. Their face blooming with longing and oh no this only meant...

"Sshhh! Quiet." Isagi whispered but loud enough for everyone to hear. "He's coming."

Hearing this, the ensemble of strikers scrambled back behind their cover. Swears and complaints muttered at each other, trying to squeeze in as much invisibility they can create. Emphasize on can.

The coverage proved to be pointless anyway, when everyone poked their heads a little to observe the awaited scene. Their hearts beated expectantly. Their breaths moved in and out readying theirselves. Just who is the man that had caught a captivating grasp around the reverent heart of their reliable and caring manager. What allure did he have for you to fall deep on the flowerbed of blossoming passion of pure gentle admiration that is too complex to explain with only those words they call—love.

With beated silence, the man in mystery had came out. They assume to be the man in mystery when he stepped out of the bus and your face turned bright and jumped slightly towards him. You carefully touched his arm and your lips moved to greet.

Isagi discerned the moment in front of him quickly, similar to how he would in a match. Black slacks. Matching black leather jacket which shined from the enveloping glow of the setting sun. The guy's posture showed strong resolve that towered the other passengers exiting the bus. Striped turtle neck of white and cyan that he concluded to be quite tacky if not for the jacket. As his gaze landed to identify his identity, his eyes opened widely like saucers.

Thick bottom lashes.

Teal eyes. The same color that would pierce his soul everytime.

Dark cyan hair.

That indifferent expression.

No fucking way.

How could someone who looks so sweet end up with someone so, so—

BITTER.

Wait no, not bitter. Because the face he had now was not familiar at all.

Itoshi Rin. The Itoshi Rin is—smiling.

To what counts as a smile from him anyway. His lips was still in a thin line with only a few centimeters curved upwards. If you really paid close attention, and Isagi means close attention, it looks kinda like a smile.

In honor of Karasu, he provided the ice breaker "I'm seeing what I'm seeing right?" His confirmation only made Isagi's observation positive.

"You know. I'm actually not really surprised." Yukimiya still in kneeling position, had his arm on his chest and his other perched up by the elbow. His hand against his chin.

"They suit each other." He further said, while Rin slided a quick cheek rub then moved to push back strands of hair at the side of your head.

Otoya whistled, "Didn't know Mr. Top One had game in and out of the field."

Bachira pumped his fist in the air, "Hell yeah! See? I was right!" then inched beside Reo punching his bicep "Reo! Reo! You owe me five mil'!"

"I didn't bet you shit!"

"Aahh, my prochecy prevailed! They are absolutely the glam couple."

"I th-think they look great!"

"Hmm, not bad." Chigiri hummed your name seeming content with the reveal (Isagi corrects reveal to eavesdropping, but Chigiri only swatted him away). "However, seeing that smile unnerves me. I didn't think it'd be possible."

"This makes me feel that if our manager can make Rin smile like that. We can win World Cup." Isagi sighed with a smile of his own and Chigiri laughed as he nudged his shoulder to agree.

"Anything is possible, eh, isn't that right Nagi? Haha, wait—huh? Nagi!?" Chigiri shook his head baffled, a loud scream erupted from him at the sudden appearance causing another man crouching in front of him to trip on his hand as a bright flash dawned.

The bedhead lad grumbled in between words as he munched on some chips "Reo texted y'all were picking me up." He hung his head low as if standing was already taxing work, "It's been an hour. I got worried."

"Um, guys..." Otoya sweatdropped his phone in hand while looking dead straight in front of him.

All the boys changed their view back at the whole reason of why they were hiding behind dirty bushes and supposed discreet vending machines.

Their manager only sighed exasperatingly which funnily enough, sounded like a laugh. They patted Rin's arm to soothe the other. Unfortunately, it wasn't helping.

A cold, deep, dead stare returned at them. The embodiment of if looks can kill.

"Who took that?"

And if actions can kill then the stance Rin was giving obviously indicated that they should probably run now. (Hiding is definitely out of the options, Isagi accepted.)

A rush of wind breezed beside Isagi as Otoya leaped away first, phone clutched like it's pearls. "Ninja escape!"

"Otoya, you traitor!" Karasu screamed in betrayal, but hypocritically followed.

On instinct, Isagi grabbed a hold of Bachira and Chigiri. Determined to make a run for it. The latter two got the message, grinned, and started sprinting ahead.

"Congrats! Rin-chan!" Bachira yelled back with a wave.

"Goodness." Yukimiya could only exhale at the expected as he ran after.

Aryu jumped twirling and finger guns at the two while slowly anchoring his speed, leaving not before saying "Glam, glam!"

Tokimitsu already screeched ten steps in front of him.

As a newcomer, Nagi was about to comment to Rin and their manager when his weight shifted quickly. His steps began to walk. Reo holding him tight.

"Nagi, let's go! We can't lose to them!" Reo started to sprint pointing at their other friends way far ahead.

This unexpected hold as familiar as it can be, he never thought he'd experience it again after everything. "Okay. I'll follow you, Reo." Nagi ran.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Additional Time!

A ping ringed in your phone. Your eyes opened out of dreamland as the sound erupted you from your thoughts.

You opened the popped out message, a glint forming in your eyes. Clicking the surface you read,

—Are you there?

You body trembled from the current cold of winter breeze as if confirming, nonetheless you closed your body for warmth in order to type.

—Yeah, I'm waiting

A notification sound rose up.

—Sorry, house got busy.

You were about to type out another reply when,

—Sae just left.

Your movements paused for a second. At the mention of his brother, you didn't know what to say that might not trigger him. You instead thought to change the course.

—I understand and stay safe : )

—Ok. You too.

—But get here soon though!

You directed your eyes to the side. Only your peripheral vision needed to see what you thought before was the cold getting to you. You sillily reminded yourself that bushes can't move on its own and vending machines don't grow heads. You grinned and chuckled.

—I think our soccer team is stalking me.

A minute passed after you sent it. You were expecting a reaction, so you shrugged it off thinking he turned off his phone for the meantime. A buzzed vibrated on your fingers.

—I'll be there in a minute.

You heaved out a quiet laugh.

His house is ten minutes from here though.

[i2rizz]

Hello again! How would Isagi, Kaiser, Rin & Sae react to 'Reader that's bad at kick the ball' stealing a ball from them? Just a lucky, well-timed little kick that's too simple for their galaxy brains to calculate.

Hello love :))

I havent been active much bc life aint easy but oh well

Bad at kicking the ball!reader stealing a ball from them

Isagi Yoichi

He had the entire play mapped out. Vectors. Field awareness. Enemy positioning. Your angle was nonexistent. Statistically, you shouldn’t even be in the equation.

Yet here you are. You, who once tried to kick a stationary ball and fell backwards, just poked the ball clean from under his foot while he was mid-monologue about "optimal scoring theory"

He freezes. The simulation glitches.

"...Did you predict that?" he asks, stunned.

You're already 10 feet away, chasing the ball like a toddler in a bounce house. He’s still standing there, eyes wide.

"She... No, there’s no way. That wasn’t positioning, that wasn’t reflex—it was... was that luck?" He starts overanalyzing your clumsy shuffle like it was a divine move from a higher dimension.

You trip over your own foot, and he whispers, "Genius...?"

Lil bonus-

You: "I sneezed mid-kick"

Isagi, scribbling on a napkin: "Genius. Weaponize it."

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser is pissed. And confused. But mostly pissed.

He was dribbling at half-speed, trying to look hot while giving you a fake chance. You, in return, flailed your foot out in a desperate, noodle-armed attempt—and actually tapped the ball right between his feet and made off with it.

There’s a long silence.

He slowly turns his head, blond hair flipping dramatically.

"...What the hell was that?" he says, genuinely offended.

You grin. "I stole it. Fair and square"

"From me?"

He jogs up to you, mock-serious. "Okay, okay, okay. Let’s try that again. I’ll give you a real chance this time" He flicks the ball up. "Come on, lucky feet. I dare you"

You trip over your shoelace while trying and faceplant in front of him. He immediately takes a picture.

"You peaked today. You’ll never be this cool again"

Rin Itoshi

Rin doesn’t talk much. Especially not during drills. Especially not to you, the gremlin of the pitch, whose best soccer move so far has been "accidentally tackling the cone"

So when you randomly poke the ball from him mid-dribble and scamper off looking proud as hell—his brain shuts down.

He blinks once. Then again.

He walks after you, slowly. No words. Just silent judgment.

You stick your tongue out at him and hold the ball above your head. "I stole it~!"

He squints. "Give it back"

"No"

"...I will literally pick you up"

You giggle. He does. You flail like a cat in a bath. The ball rolls away.

He retrieves it wordlessly, drops it at your feet again, and sighs.

"You’re annoying"

You do a victory dance. He squints again.

"I'm calling Ego. You're getting drug tested"

You wink. "Scared of me, Itoshi?"

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "you're an idiot"

Sae Itoshi

He's being lazy as hell-just doing light dribbles, occasionally shooting, hair tousled like he rolled out of bed. You're trying your best, and Sae's trying not to look like he was forced to be there.

You’ve got the foot-eye coordination of a baby duck. You couldn’t score if the goal begged you. So when you sneak up during a casual jog and kick the ball out from under him with all the grace of someone who’s never played a sport before… he just watches it happen in slow motion.

Then looks up at the sky like he’s asking the gods why.

"Huh," he says.

"Did I do good??" you beam.

He looks at you, unblinking. "No"

You frown. "What? I stole the ball!"

"That wasn’t skill. That was divine intervention" He bores his eyes at the ball, muttering, "I’ve trained for years for this, and you get the lucky goal. I hate this timeline"

Sae stares at the ball a lil longer, then you. Then just walks away.

You: "Wait, are you mad?"

Sae: "I'm not emotionally available enough to process that level of embarrassment"

He’s dramatic for five hours. Still makes you dinner though.

[forever-rogue]

Ok, just got an idea of tasm.

What about a first introduction with May, like reader is so anxious about meeting her and when she finally does so she realizes May is so sweet with her 🥺

Aunt May being so sweet with Peter's girl just got me ✨😭

AN | No, but May is the best! She’d absolutely adore Peter’s girl❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A million thoughts were racing through your mind; unfortunately none of them were good. You were about to meet the most important woman in Peter’s life, beside you, and all you wanted was to make a good first impression. You had no clue what you would do if she didn’t like you. You’d probably be dumped and heartbroken. 

“Stop being stupid,” you groaned at your reflection as you fixed your hair. You wanted to look perfect without looking like you were trying too hard. Ugh. You were definitely overthinking this. It was supposed to be a simple dinner, not some sort of life changing event. But…it kind of was. For you anyway.

“Hey Bug,” you hadn’t heard Peter let himself into your apartment. When you looked up, you found leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as you met his gaze in the mirror, “you look beautiful.”

You relaxed at his words, letting out a soft sigh as you turned around to face, “are you sure? It’s not too much or not enough?”

“It’s perfect,” he took a few steps closer to you, “you could wear anything and it would be perfect.”

“Shut up,” you gently pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, instead only softly laughed, “I’m nervous, Pete.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “there’s no reason to worry. May is going to love you - she might even end up loving you more than me.”

“I hope she likes me at least a little bit,” you whispered, leaning into soft touch, “what if she doesn’t for some reason?”

“That’s impossible,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you huffed at him, “trust me.”

“I do…mostly,” you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, “but you know, the whole not telling me about the fact that you were Spider-Man doesn’t help your honesty credibility.”

“To be fair, Bug, I didn’t and wasn’t going to tell you,” you raised an eyebrow at him as his cheeks flushed lightly, “I mean, I was going to eventually…but you beat me to it.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Peter Parker,” you remembered the evening you discovered his alter ego like it was yesterday, “you came into the bedroom in the suit and bleeding profusely, remember? Or did you lose too much blood and forget?”

“I remember,” he mumbled softly. It was one of the first nights you’d stayed over at his apartment but duty had called; he left in the middle of the night while you slept soundly in his bed. He’d intended to be back and next to you in bed before you even woke up. Unfortunately it hadn’t happened that way at all, “it was…not how I planned on telling you.”

“Nevertheless, you lied to me…sort,” you waved your hand around before leaning against the counter with a heavy sigh, “so what you’re doing that to me now and you just know May will hate me?”

“I…” he paused for a moment, incredulous at your little theory as you pouted at him, “do you really think I’d do that?”

“No,” you sighed softly, your shoulders sinking as he pulled you into a hug, tucking you perfectly into his frame, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I just want this to go well, Pete.”

“It will,” he rubbed your back in soothing circles as you mumbled something against his chest, “it’s just May and me. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

“Fine,” you finally gave in as Peter chuckled softly, “let’s just go and do this.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You walked up the steps to May’s house, clutching on Peter’s hand tightly; if he was superhuman you might have even broken it. In your other hand was a bouquet of flowers that you’d picked up just for May. Your heart was beating so loudly you were positive that Peter could easily hear it. Once he knocked, you listened with bated breath for the door to be answered, trying to see if you could hear May coming.

And yet, it still took you by surprise when the door was gently opened and there stood May Parker, the woman, the myth, and the legend herself. She was a smaller woman but she had a giant presence about her; you could see how much Peter loved her just from the way his lit up, “Aunt May!”

“Peter,” he gently let go of your hand and wrapped her up in a giant hug that caused her to chuckle at him, “it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before shifting her gaze over to you. You half expected to see some sort of judgment, but in reality you saw nothing of the short. If you thought she softened for Peter, she was even more gentle with you. 

“Hi Mrs. Parker,” you held out the flowers to her, hoping you didn’t appear too intimidated, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She said your name, so warm and tenderly, before taking the flowers and pulling you into a hug as well. There must have been something in the Parker family that caused all of them to give the best hugs; Peter probably learned from her, “it’s so good to finally meet you. It feels like it’s been so long and Peter never shuts up about y-”

“Alright, alright,” Peter’s cheeks pinked as you looked at him with a huge grin. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with all the affection that you had for these two people, “let’s, ugh, get inside before it gets too cold.”

“Oh Peter, don’t get all shy,” May wrapped her arm around your shoulders before leading you inside, “I think it’s wonderful that you have some to love so much.”

You flashed him a grin over your shoulder as you stepped inside the Parker home; he was a very bright red that gave you enough pause to hang back and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Peter, can you please put these beautiful flowers into some water for me,” the kitchen and the entire house smelled absolutely divine. You’d been told that she was a good cook and that almost made your mouth water in excitement, “dinner’s almost ready.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you couldn’t help as but cast curious eyes around the kitchen and dining area, looking at all the photos that were hung up and items that were displayed. A photograph of a young Peter caught your eye as you walked over to it and looked at it closer. He was super cute as a kid and you couldn’t help but wonder what your kids would like…you hoped that you’d get to find out one day, “oh my gosh, Pete! You were so precious!”

“Peter really was the cutest and sweetest boy,” May agreed as Peter looked mortified; he wished the floor would open up and swallowed him whole, “he was such a good boy.”

“Wonder what happened?” you teased as May laughed. Alright, you already liked her a lot. Your nerves were still there, but they weren’t nearly as bad as they had initially been. 

“Oh haha, you’re so funny,” he stuck his tongue out at you, before instinctively going to set the table. May had really raised him well, “one day I’ll get to see your old pictures and we’ll see how you like it.”

“It’s so fun to tease you,” you walked back into the kitchen to help May, “besides, maybe one day our kids will be that cute.”

It was no secret that Peter wanted a family one day, and you’d both agreed that you wanted at least one child together. Your comment definitely caused Peter to feel a certain type of way and his eyes grew wide as he looked at you. He was definitely going to hang onto this feeling later when it was just the two of you. May, meanwhile, made a small sound of agreement, “you two will have adorable kids, that’s a given.”

“Oh,” your entire face warmed up as you stole a glance at Peter. He looked a mixture of both excited and embarrassed, “well I guess we’ll just have to wait and see one day.”

That seemed to quell them both as your stomach exploded with butterflies. You knew that Peter would be a great father one day and were equally sure that May would be a wonderful grandmother. You felt lucky to have them in your lives; but then, you’d known that Peter would be something special to you from the day you met him.

May hummed in content as you helped her to finish dinner. She had such a warm and calming presence and you already loved being around her. It was easy to fall into a rhythm and pattern with her and before you knew it, the three of you were sitting around the table and eating dinner. She was an excellent cook and it was such a welcome thing to behold a home cooked meal. 

Afterwards when you were all stuffed, Peter helped May with a few things around the house while the two of you cleaned up. 

“You know,” her voice was tender and gentle as she dried the dishes that you had washed, “I haven’t seen Peter this happy in a long time. It makes me happy to see him doing so well. He deserves it.”

“He does,” you agreed softly, “he makes me really happy too. He’s a good man and I…I’ve never met anyone like him before. He’s special to me.”

“He’s always been a good boy,” she agreed, looking into the living room and finding him softly speaking to himself as he moved some furniture around for her, “it was hard for him, with what happened to poor Gwen, and it took a long time for him to be himself again. I was worried I’d lost my boy too, but slowly over time he got better. And then, when I noticed just how happy he seemed, he told me about you. Well, when he first met you, I should say.”

 “I met him and we were friends for a long time before we started dating,” you looked at her in confusion but she only responded with a knowing smile. You inhaled softly as you looked over at your boyfriend. He must have felt you looking at him because his gaze quickly shifted to yours and his entire face lit up, “oh. Oh.”

“Mhmm,” she put the last of the dishes away before giving your arm a small squeeze, “needless to say I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“Oh May,” you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over before hugging her. In truth Parker fashion, she hugged you tightly and rubbed your back in soothing motions, “I’ve been so nervous and excited to meet you. Peter speaks so highly of you and I understand why. Thank you for being so kind and welcoming. Peter is amazing and he always says he owes it to you. I can understand why. You’re both great.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” she promised softly, “as far as I’m concerned you’re family, sweetheart. If you ever need anything or need me to have a word with him, just let me know, alright?”

“I will,” you beamed at her, “I will.”

“Hey May?” Peter walked into the kitchen sheepishly, “did you, umm, make dessert by chance?”

“Of course I did,” she tutted at him before exchanging a look with you, “I made your favorite.”

“Yes!” he kissed her cheeks, “you’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you and Peter left May’s it was late; you hadn’t expected to be gone for so long but it was just so easy and fun to hang around with Peter and May. Peter held your hand, a knowing  little smile on his face as got into the cab to go back to your apartment. You, naturally, had a big tote full of leftovers to take with you. 

You’d fallen asleep next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He was reluctant to wake you up but he did so gently before scooping you into his arms and carrying you upstairs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly, burrowing your face into his chest. 

“That wasn’t so bad was it, Bug?” he asked as he set you down and bent over to help slip off your heels. You felt so incredibly warm and fuzzy at the sweet but simple gesture, “you lived.”

“Shut up, Parker,” you sighed gently as he pressed a kiss to your ankle before standing back and towering over you. You moved to take off his jacket and hung it up by the door, “I think you might be officially demoted to my second favorite Parker.”

“Wow,” he put his hand on his chest and sighed dramatically, “that’s hurtful baby. I should have known better than to introduce the two of you. My favorite women are ganging up against me already.”

“Never,” you reached for his hand and started to pull him towards your bedroom. You were tired and all you wanted was to cuddle up with him. He easily obliged, lacing his fingers through yours, “you’ll always be my favorite, Peter Parker.”

You quickly stripped off your clothes before tugging at Peter’s and getting him down to his boxers. You’d worry about your makeup and everything else later. Peter pulled you into his arms as soon as you were both lying down and under the covers.

“What am I your favorite of?” he whispered, causing goosebumps to raise up on your skin as he ghosted his fingers along your soft skin. 

“My favorite everything,” you replied as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, “my favorite best friend, my favorite boyfriend, my favorite superhero…all of it.”

“You’re my favorite too,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed in content, “will you stay tonight? No Spider-Man-ing?”

“Yes,” he gave you a gentle squeeze, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Unless it’s an emergency.” 

“Unless it’s an absolute emergency.”

“Good,” you horribly stifled a yawn before settling further into the pillows, “love you, spider-boy.”

“I love you too Bug.”

[creature-wizard]

How to persuade people more effectively

So my lovely Tumblr people, I think you can agree that we are facing dreadful times and that it would be wonderful if we could get out of them. As we all know, changing anything in society and politics requires changing a lot of of minds, which often feels like a Herculean task. Since I believe in trying to fight smarter rather than harder, here's my list of advice to make this work easier.

Ask yourself if you’re really up to the task.

If you’re really tired or not in a good mood, you might want to pass. If you’re looking at someone who’s really obnoxious and maybe likely to set you off in bad ways, you can pass. If OP has a username that signals an extreme viewpoint like retvrn1488, maga5ever, or wyldwombyn, consider that just blocking them may be your best choice. Also, you’re probably never going to get anywhere with someone who thinks you’re beneath them – if someone obviously holds you in contempt, just don’t bother. You are not required to try and educate or argue with everybody who’s wrong. Pick your battles.

Know your stuff.

I’ve made the mistake of trying to talk about things that I didn’t know nearly as much about as I should have a few times. Even though I wasn’t wrong, I just didn’t have enough information to demonstrate that my positions were justified. Each time I tried this, it basically blew up in my face. Please don’t repeat my mistakes.

Ask yourself: Can you explain and justify your position without repeating a soundbite like “X is a conspiracy theory” or “Y is racist”? Can you show why it’s a conspiracy theory? Can you show how it’s racist? If you can’t, you’re not ready yet. Go level up first!

Stay composed and be charismatic.

I know this is sometimes easier said than done, but coming off as calm and confident does wonders, especially in contrast with someone who just can’t hold it together. It also helps to have a big vocabulary and to be articulate, and to inject an energy into your message that makes people feel empowered and motivated.

Don't talk to people like they've been consciously choosing evil just because they want to.

People don't do that. People believe that what they've been doing is either good, neutral, or necessary to survive. Functionally telling people "you're evil and you know it" signals to most people that you're a bad faith actor. (The ones who will actually agree with you are probably deeply traumatized from abuse and/or suffering from moral OCD.)

Don’t show contempt.

Showing contempt signals that the person you’re arguing with isn’t worth taking seriously. This is can be useful for handling bad faith actors who come and try to make themselves your problem. You know you aren’t going to change their minds, but you can signal to anyone watching that this person is an utter fool, even a laughingstock while signaling to them that they aren't getting anywhere with you.

If you’re trying to actually change somebody’s mind, you do not want to show them that they aren’t worth taking seriously. You want them to feel respected, like you think they’re smart and have ideas and feelings worthy of attention. I know this can be easier said than done! But if you begin with the assumption that the person you’re talking to is capable of learning and probably has some insights, values, and opinions worthy of consideration, you’re going to give off a much better vibe for them.

Don’t attack people personally.

If you’re trying to persuade someone, don’t call them racist, sexist, bigoted, etc. Don’t call them ignorant, stupid, or whatever. This is basically just a form of showing contempt. Again, showing contempt has its uses, but persuading people isn’t one of them.

A lot of people assume that the people they want to persuade think very highly of themselves and if they just cut their ego down to size they’ll become receptive and listen. But most people are just going to see an attack and nope out. Besides that, teaching self-hatred is how capitalism manipulates people into making themselves more profitable and marketable, and it’s also one of the ways white patriarchy manipulates people into taking on its repressive and often oppressive roles. Self-hatred is the weapon of the enemy, we don’t need it.

Don’t play the victim.

Playing the victim isn’t the same as acknowledging that you have been abused or harmed, or acknowledging that you lived a life where everything was stacked against you. Talking about ways you’ve been victimized doesn’t equal playing the victim, contrary to what some bad faith actors out there say.

Playing the victim is about the role you take on in a social interaction, where you position yourself as fragile, put-upon, and vulnerable. It’s the kind of thing a lot of white women do when things don’t go their way. It’s also a habit that’s easy to pick up if you don’t have firm boundaries. People who haven’t realized they can just go, “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to have this interaction, so I just won’t,” might start traumadumping, or try to shame the other person, or try to make a big guilt trip. “How dare you talk to me this way, you don’t know what I’ve been through! You’re so selfish, you don’t think about anyone but yourself! You’re forcing me to do all this work for you because you’re so entitled!”

I know, people can be really frustrating. Sometimes they can be incredibly upsetting. Sometimes they can send us spiraling into dangerous places. But the thing about playing the victim is that it not only doesn’t persuade people, but it’s also really unhealthy for you. It feeds a narrative that you are always disempowered, even when you’re not. On the Internet, you can usually just choose to not interact if things get overwhelming, and maybe use the block button. It can be harder to get away from people offline, but it’s important to do the best you can.

It’s also useful to recognize when you’re getting defensive and to know what you can do when that happens. Here’s a page that might help you with this.

Don't act like anyone you wouldn't listen to.

When's the last time you've listened to one of those street preachers screaming about everything they think is wrong with society and yelling at people to repent of their sins? Never, right? Don't act like the kind of people you would ignore.

Be a good listener.

Persuading people isn’t just about saying what you want them to hear, it’s also about listening to them so they feel like you’re engaging with them, rather than talking down to them. Plus, listening helps you assess what they actually know and believe, which helps you determine what you need to say to them. Here’s a page to help you improve your listening skills. (And I know stuff like maintaining eye contact and reading body language isn’t always easy or possible for people – just try to do the best you can!)

Validate people where you can.

Validation signals that you understand and care about people’s problems, which makes them more open and trusting. You don’t have to validate bigotry or anything like that, but you can validate how frustrating it is to deal with high grocery prices, politicians who don’t seem to care, and lots of everyday frustrations. This is also how you begin building solidarity, by the way – when people see how we all suffer the same way, they can begin to see that we’re all working toward a common goal.

Use anecdotes.

It would be wonderful if we could just show people scientific data and have them be persuaded by it all the time, but for many people data feels abstract and not really real. (It probably also doesn’t help that most people don’t understand how the data was collected.) However, anecdotes often feel more real to people, and have a lot more persuasion power. (Consider how many “this happened to a friend of a friend” stories get passed around like gospel!) Personal anecdotes are really great – telling someone about your awesome trans friend can do a lot do make them reconsider their prejudices about trans people.

But also, have scientific/scholarly resources.

Some people are going to be sharp enough that anecdotes won’t work on them – and good for them, honestly! Also, scientific and scholarly resources can lend further credence to anecdotes. So try to have them on hand, if you possibly can!

Give people reasons.

People don’t like doing things if they don’t feel like there’s any good reason for it. Also, be aware that different types of reasons will be more or less compelling to different people. Some people will find moral reasons compelling on their own, while some people will respond better to a “how this benefits you personally” reason. Someone might respond better to “we shouldn’t do X because it hurts the environment” than to “we shouldn’t do X because it’s cultural appropriation.” (And of course we want people to understand that cultural appropriation is bad, but that’s going to be a whole other thing you’re going to have to give reasons for!)

Adjust your rhetoric for the person you’re talking to.

Though we all share many common values, we also understand the world through many different lenses use different language to communicate what we see and feel. We also prioritize certain ideals over others.

If I were going to talk about the racism in the Republican party to a strongly Christian person or a New Agey person, I might say that all of this stuff they’re saying about immigrants is meant to stir up fear and divide people, then go on to talk about how the data just doesn’t support this idea that immigrants are as violent as they say.

If I were talking to the kind of person who strongly believes in the ideals of freedom and liberty, I might talk about how anti-queer legislation infringes on people’s freedom to live how they see fit. I might bring up that it violates their constitutional right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Offer alternatives.

The easiest way to end a bad habit or belief is to replace it with a good (or at least neutral) habit or belief. For example, if you’re trying to persuade people to stop using unsourced white sage (here's information on the problem with this, if you don't know), list alternatives such as rosemary and juniper.

Leave them with additional resources to explore.

Keeping a big list of resources on hand is the secret to activism bliss. Okay, maybe not, but it sure makes things a lot easier! If someone is really curious and engaged, they’ll often be willing to explore resources if you have them. Do try and make sure that not all of your resources are locked behind paywalls or require a deep understanding of specialized language. Curating resources accessible to any means and level of education will help you maximize your ability to persuade and educate.

[millysastroblog]

Astro Theories PT.2

☆Sun in Aquarius woman☆

tend to get along best with the opposite gender. They often fit into the role of one of the guys or bros in certain group dynamics. It's as if the opposite sex gravitates toward them because there is a resonance between the two. This could be due to their laid-back, cool, and somewhat detached personality. They also find more enjoyment hanging out with guys, claiming that they're much easier to be around and less complicated. This doesn't mean they can't befriend females, but there's a natural attraction to being around guys. They might even find themselves in situations where they need to friend-zone a male friend when one-sided feelings develop.

Another thing about Sun in Aquarius women is that they are most likely to claim the title of a pick-me since they naturally attract attention from the opposite gender. This can sometimes lead to an inflated ego, where they may see themselves as cooler, special, or different. However, this doesn't always happen in every case, and it depends on the individual.

☆ Saturn transiting your Moon sign and house☆

can make you feel depressed and lonely, especially if you're younger. The Moon represents our emotional needs, but when Saturn transits over it and places restrictions on what we need to feel fulfilled, it can cause sadness or a lack of happiness, making it difficult to navigate that area of life.

For example, with the Moon in the 11th house and Saturn transiting, you might find it harder to emotionally connect with friends. There could be periods of isolation, friends might move away, or you might have to learn how to build new connections from scratch and become your own best friend.

With the Moon in the 2nd house and Saturn transiting, you might need to cut back on impulsive purchases and realign your core values. Money could feel restricted or harder to come by, and comfort or simple pleasures might be limited. You might also face challenges with self-worth issues."

☆ Same goes for Saturn transiting over Jupiter placement or in the Solar Return chart being in the same house placement as our Jupiter ☆:

Jupiter in the 6th house / Saturn transit or SR in the 6th house :

During this transit, you may feel less motivated or enthusiastic about daily activities, and you might struggle to keep order or manage responsibilities. Your routine will require more planning, and you may feel a bit unlucky in this area of life or as if something has gone wrong. Jupiterian energy usually comes to us naturally, with less effort required to attract luck. However, with Saturn transiting, it will restrict that for a while and teach you how to develop more discipline.

☆ All mutable placements actually are THINKERS and intune with their mind and ideas ☆.

Sagittarius-> knowledge based on philosophy, education, travel, cultures

Gemini-> knowledge based on social trends, stories, surroundings, books

Virgo-> knowledge based on details, small things, day to day things, practicality, personal experiences, routines, books

Pieces-> knowledge based on Intuition, the unknown, dreams, creative insight

—-————————-♥︎—————————

Relationships & Connections

☆ Synastry and Composite can’t tell you the destiny of your relationship ☆

These astrological tools are meant to show people the potential path they might take and the direction in which their relationships could unfold. Just because a synastry chart indicates the best 'marriage placements' doesn't mean the relationship will last forever or that marriage will actually happen. Astrology can show the likelihood of certain outcomes, but it cannot predict the future with 100% certainty.

☆ There is no perfect Synastry or Composite chart it depends on two peoples natal chart and what their needs and preferences are ☆

Example: Saturnian synastry placements are highly favorable in astrology, as they indicate longevity, stability, and a strong foundation for a connection. However, if there are overly heavy Saturnian placements and one person has significant Aquarius and Uranus influences in their chart, they might feel too constricted or bored by the connection, as it won't fulfill their own needs for freedom, change, and excitement.

Another Example:

Person A: Saturnian

Person B: Venusian

Synastry/ Composite: Neptunian

Person B is very in love with Person A and loves the romantic and dreamy time they spent together.

But Person A might feel uneasy or to carried away and confused by the connection since it doesn’t provide any structure or strong foundation to built from. They are just flowing and vibing.

☆ Both easy and harsh aspects in Synastry and Composite are necessary ☆

Hard aspect -> are challenging and not easy but help for each individual to work on the connection, leaving old patterns behind, it enables change easier and glues the couple more together.

Light aspect -> are nice, comfortable, friendly but could enable each person bad habits and not take each other accountable or serious, the connection fades away more quicker.

©2025 millysastroblog All Rights Reserved

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.

if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3

/p

(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O

Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.

—————————-

Engineer:

- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.

- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.

- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.

- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.

- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.’ This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.

- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.

- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”

- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.

- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)

- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.

- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?

- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!

- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!

[mikansei]

What are your thoughts on Ratio as a teacher? I want to say that he's not as much of a demon in the classroom as some ppl interpret him as but also I'm not sure if I'm not making him too nice

i'm sure ratio's "3% pass rate" is just a number arbitrarily picked to make him sound super strict, the same way earning 8 doctorates at the age of [vague anime adult] isn't meant to make real world sense, but my favorite pastime is overthinking anime and video game logic so:

we know ratio got into university when he was still in highschool. let's just say he didn't bother with a bachelor's and went straight for doctorates from the start. doctorates normally take a long time to earn, but he's clearly not meant to be as old as welt looks; he's in his 30s at most. his character stories say he's taught 52 courses so far, and if professors teach ~5-ish per semester, he's been teaching for roughly 10 years (while earning 8 doctorates himself. veritas ratio where the fuck do u find the time).

so if he's 30 years old, he started teaching at 20 with maybe 1 or 2 doctorates under his belt - and, again, assuming he went straight from student to teacher without being a TA or anything first, because [screaming at all these hypotheticals].

if you've ever met a 20-year-old or remember being a 20-year-old yourself, you will know that they are fucking insufferable. having just endured the most trying ordeal of their lives (surviving being an 18-year-old), they think they have gained all the knowledge in the world and have uniquely uncovered all life's mysteries. so a 20yo ratio - who actually HAD gained significant knowledge and personally solved at least one interstellar crisis - had to have an ego approximately the diameter of saturn's rings. showered with more praise than he could ever process, hailed as a genius and once-in-a-lifetime visionary, setting his sights firmly on joining the genius society by earning Nous' gaze, he must've been so goddamn full of himself.

THAT is the ratio whose courses had a 3% pass rate. it probably only took him 1 or 2 semesters to realize holding everyone else to his impossibly high personal standards did not, in fact, make him a good teacher. i'm sure it was a humbling experience. i bet he got bad reviews on the starrail equivalent of ratemyprofessors.com and decided to go back and earn a whole nother doctorate about it - maybe medicine, to better understand the psychology behind learning, that he might thus become a better teacher. that sounds like an extremely ratio thing to do.

10 years on he probably doesn't teach, like, psych 101. he probably teaches shit like "applied string theory." top-level post-grad capstone courses, where anyone taking the course is most of the way thru their own PhD, and if they fail his course they just need to shift subdisciplines, not flunk out of university entirely.

i hope the hubris of his old 3% pass rate haunts him tho 😊 keeps him up at night, making him wonder how many students' curiosity and drive to learn was mercilessly snuffed out by his ego 🥰

[li-an-nie]

The origin of Isagi’s talent and a message for us (ft. Naruhaya & Kaiser)

Hi! This is something I've been thinking about for quite a while... and today I finally want to share with you my theory, or rather explanation, for Isagi Yoichi – his character, where his talent for adaptability comes from, as well as our own takeaways we can draw from Kaneshiro's characters.

This is a lot, but I think it shows how powerful the story of Blue Lock really can be!

Transformation

People often like to joke about Slursagi - how this ordinary guy with the seemingly most ordinariest of parents has so far spit out some of the wildest insults on the field haha. Well, sadly I don’t have an explanation for all of that, but I do have one for his incredibly fast and exponential progress in Blue Lock. I mean, we all know by now, as Naruhaya has said before and as was kinda picked up in the most recent chapters – it's his innate aptitude for adaptability, learning and change. Destroying yourself and then rebuilding your best version. Abandoning everything else and thinking of yourself as just a means to an end. While everyone else in Blue Lock had good enough soccer skills to manage just fine on their own so far, this is the method Isagi had to use in order to keep up with all the other players.

(see Ch. 53)

The question is just, where did this amazing talent come from? Is this a learned skill or a mutation, as Ego talked about? Is it nurture or nature?

If we look at it, the other guys in Blue Lock have all these sad backstories, traumas and toxic family relationships and whatnot. Yet Isagi has come so far, despite his ordinary background. Or rather... because of it. Or rather... only someone with a background like him could actually pull this off..! Why? Because Isagi has something that many of us don’t – unconditional love and support.

Again, this is just my own interpretation, but think about the term ‘destroying yourself’ first – what the hell does that even mean (if we ignore the edginess in that statement)?

(This is going to get super abstract, and even I don’t 100% know what I’m talking about, but hear me out first.)

It can mean so much – destroying your personality, your preconceptions of the world or a field, your prejudices, your obsessions, your pride, your fears, your regrets, basically anything that is capable of holding you back. Most people can’t simply do that. Naruhaya couldn’t. We all have inhibitions about certain things, no matter how hard we try, it often feels impossible to let go of certain thoughts and emotions. We're tethered to the past, afraid of losing our ‘self’ we’ve built in the process. There’s always a fear – if we fail, if we slip up, we might genuinely end up with nothing but our own ruin and failures, and that’s why we can never really go 100% of the way.

But Isagi can.

(see Ch. 55)

Origin

Isagi grew up in an ordinary household. But I'd say his family, his parents are actually far from ordinary.

We see it in the spin-off novel first, where Isagi’s incredible spatial awareness was apparent from a young age, making him very timid and much like a scaredy-cat in the beginning. But instead of scolding or condemning him, his parents always tried to understand and support him. And the same applied when Isagi first expressed his desire for a soccer ball.

(see BL Spin-Off - Isagi Yoichi Ch.2)

It doesn't matter if he's a crybaby, as long as he grows up healthy. For the first time, their timid, only son showed them what he wanted to do with his own will. That alone was enough to satisfy them completely.

With that out the way, this scene you probably remember from the manga is more than enough to illustrate everything (Ch. 152).

"You’re still our son, whether you’re special or average. What makes me happy is that you’re doing what you want, and giving your best at it."

"Whether you win or lose, no matter what… we’ll always be there for you, Yocchan."

"So live your life as you want."

Jesus Christ. If that’s not the most loving and supportive parents in the world, then what is?

Isagi’s parents have simply no expectations of him. They love and support him so unconditionally. They encourage and adore him, and they will always think of him their precious son, no matter if he wins or loses, if he chooses to live an average person’s life or risk everything to become the best striker in the world. Isagi knows this, and he grew up like this, he grew up with a certainty that no matter what you will still be loved. That’s why he can sacrifice everything of himself – because ultimately, under that everything is something that will never leave, and this certainty is what enables him to push so far in the first place. He developed a mindset that could push itself to its limits, and it directly impacted not only his life decisions but his evolution on the soccer field as well.

(see Ch. 55)

Naruhaya, on the other hand, had the same talent for adaptability, but he wasn't able to go as far as Isagi. Because unlike Isagi, there were things he had to protect, the stakes were too high – his sisters, and their precarious financial situation. Even though a dire situation like this should enable him to push himself even further, that stake is also exactly what held him back in the end. In his case, it matters so much whether he wins or loses. When it starts to matter, you ultimately become afraid of what will happen if you do lose, and for him that meant so much more than just the end of his dreams. Isn’t it natural to feel more under stress when the stakes are higher?

Opposites

So because of this foundation that Isagi has, he is different than the rest. This would kind of speak against the assumption I had at the beginning of Blue Lock, that his ordinariness is meant to represent all of us. With basically the message that anyone can evolve and transform themselves for the better, just like Isagi. But to be honest that was already thrown out of the window through the spin-off, where you see that Isagi was already gifted as a child. And I’m not even sure if this was supposed to be Kaneshiro’s intended takeaway to begin with, but there’s another way this message can fit together. The missing piece lies in Kaiser.

Because yeah, we all saw what Isagi realized in Ch. 282 was basically following the same thing Kaiser did 20 chapters before (discard everything but your original ego).

If we take into account what we know Isagi, it becomes all the more heartbreaking and ironic when we actually see Kaiser do the same type of evolution in Ch. 262 for the first time – I quote, “past achievements, pride, everything he ever won”, literally the joy he felt about becoming human, he was willing to destroy and throw it all away, he became zero, despite knowing that if he fails that’s all there would be left – zero.

(see Ch. 262)

He’s always had zero, and the soccer ball is the first thing he ever truly ‘gains’. After his career takes off, he slowly acquired more and more, fame, money, achievements, you name it. This would be the first time he possesses so much, but he doesn’t know the pain of losing something yet, because he never had anything before to begin with. Kaiser built himself a high mountain out of things he never had, but then was willing to risk the pain of losing everything and roll back down into that pit of nothing again, all for the sake of his goal. If that's not strength, then what is?

And it’s also a direct contrast to Isagi.

Isagi and Kaiser are opposites, they are extremes that came from completely different worlds and family backgrounds. And yet they are also exactly the same, because they had the same strengths and resolves and were able to undergo the same kind of evolution. One has all the love and one lived their entire life deprived of it, one never questioned being human and one never believed themself to be one, yet they both were able to discard everything of themselves and then rebuild a better version – all for the sake of their goals.

Takeaway

So coming back to the message, how does that apply to us, the average person? Isagi and Kaiser represent a spectrum, and if you ever feel stuck somewhere in life, then remember – you are somewhere in between those two worlds. Doesn't that mean that you're capable of the same change too? I also don’t think it matters whether you’re a genius or talented learner, in real life there’s no clear line between those things anyway. Every one of us excels at something and every one of us has to learn and adapt in other areas. But what Blue Lock ultimately shows is that no matter what background, age or ambition, in the end, the things that can push us forward the most are our own dreams and ego. We are all capable of change.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk!

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

I asked a few of my favorite hazbin writers this and only one answered and it was ok but I felt like it could have been expanded on so here's my take

Vox, Val, Alastor, and Lucifer react to your love language being baking/cooking

Vox

(Starting with him because he's the one thaf inspired this).

Vox came from the 50s and even though I firmly believe he is past all the ingrained gender roles and homophobia I think he still has some internalized misogyny. He wants to be viewed as the man in the relationship, the breadwinner, the provider. He can cook for himself but it's pretty basic food (except steak. Like every other man since the invention of the grill how to bbq has been hardwired into his brain. If his partner also grills ya'll fight over whose turn to cook out it is)

(Unrelated but as a lesbian who loves to grill, and is the designated grill bro, butch lesbians or cookout lesbians are some of Vox's favorite type of gays to chill with)

I firmly believe that's why even though he's a sub, it's so hard and would take time and trust to get him to let you top and enjoy it. He's so worried people will find out and judge him, that you'll judge him. His ego can be very fragile.

Especially if we go with the Vox used to be a cult leader theory. His power, image, and success are linked to his ability to appear in control. To appear to have all the answers and take responsibility. It's going to take a lot of time and patience to unravel all that and help him seperate his personal and professional image.

That being said, a partner who uses acts of service as a love language is perfect for him. He's a busy man, so he tends to be a gift giver type. The gifts are always well thought out and expensive. He wants it to be something you need, want, can get a lot of enjoyment from, and be worth the money spent, so he puts time and effort into them. Unless he's just showing off by giving you his card and telling you to go nuts.

So you taking time to make his coffee for him the way he likes, ordering lunch from his favorite places and having it sent to his office so he remembers to eat, or just texting him reminders to drink water or eat/take breaks throughout the day makes him giddy.

If you're his assistant or something, (and I believe Vox absolutely would have his partner working for him/with him), then it's even better when you take on extra work to try and help him. Organizing his schedule, sorting emails/mail, and proofreading things. Any small act you do for him, because you want to and care about him, makes his heart rate pick up.

It'll really make him overheat, glitching slightly, literal heart eyes, if he comes home after a shitty day and you're cooking for him.

His internal monologue is absolutely raving about what a good housewife you are for him, a hard working husband.

Bonus points if you cleaned too! Either way, he adores you even more now, letting you fret and coo at him, removing his jacket and tie, pouring him a drink and telling him dinner will be ready soon and you made his favorite. He's so tempted to bend you over the counter right now, but that would ruin dinner. After you guys eat though, he's having you for dessert. Man's gonna make sure you know how much he appreciates this by turning your knees to jello, good luck walking tomorrow, doll.

If you bake treats and bring them to VoxTek he's gonna brag so much. Literally the embodiment of John Mulaney's, "That's my wife!" If you bring them just for him, he's defending his treats like they're the last ones in Hell. He has literally hit Val with a fly swatter for even asking if he could have one.

(Unrelated but like, chubby vox maybe? You're cooking is too good)

Valentino

Val wishes he could cook better. He's some kind of latino, so I feel like the fact he can't cook very well is a sore spot culturally. He can make the salsa and chips and like, help with stuff, he knows how to wrap tortillas and tomales (I picture him as like Mexican or Puerto Rican but that's just cuz the town I grew up had a large Puerto Rican group).

It doesn't help that his eyesight is even more shit in Hell. He can't see what he's doing hald the time. It ruins his art hobby too. He's overall just more easily frustrated with his bad eyesight.

I don't imagine you guys dating per se. Maybe you're his sugar baby, maybe you're someone he hired to help him do stuff like clean and organize and you just sorta start doing other things to help him. (Again I'm not saying it excuses jackshit, but as someone who worked with bipolar people and people with mood disorder I kinda see the fan theory in him, either way I think all the Vees could be sort of trained to be better people, but especially Val. We already saw Vox do it.)

After all, he's usually in a much better mood if you do and that means less outbursts. The first few times you cook him something he teases you about being his housewife, tries to make it sexual. It's not really something he clocks as being an act of love because I don't think you'd realize it yourself at first. I think the more you got to see him when he wasn't stressed, lashing out, being abusive, you'd start catching feelings. ("I can fix him", delulu asses)

He loves to be in the kitchen when you cook once it starts becoming a regular thing. He can't see clearly what you're doing but the way you move around the kitchen and get what you need, even if you're an ADHD mess and do steps out of order or at random, he can tell you know what you're doing. He likes to smell the food too while it's cooking.

He will ask you to try and make some spicier/more traditional foods he grew up with, but he doesn’t remember all of the ingredients, and it just gets him more frustrated he can't tell you. If you look them up and surprise him with it it'll probably be the most genuine, human response you get from him.

He's shocked, silent, standing frozen in the penthouse as familiar smells waft around him. You present him a plate nervously, practically shaking hoping it's good enough. The first bite nearly puts him in tears. No one's done anything this nice for him? Why would you? Lowkey thinks you want something from him. It's gonna make him paranoid for a while so don't expect a verbal compliment but he eats it all.

Eventually though, one day when you're in the kitchen cooking, humming softly and swaying your hips, one set of his arms will wrap around your waist, the other reaching around you help with the salsa, or wrap a tamale, and he'll prop his chin on your head and mumble out thanks. Some praise, maybe. Would definitely tell you stories about eating these foods growing up.

It's the first step towards having an actual relationship with him.

Alastor

This man almost always insists on cooking. He isn't much of a sweet tooth either. You tell him one night you want to try cooking for him. Tell him you understand it's an activity he enjoys and relaxes too, (especially if you know it's something that reminds him of his mother), but you want to do something for him and this is one way you show you care.

It's gonna remind him of his Mama so much that if you didn't know why he loved cooking so much before you do now. He compromises. You pick the meal and gather the ingredients and do most of the cooking and he helps prep and does dishes.

He playfully critiques you the entire time about adding some spice too it or a little southern flair. Just smack him with the wooden spoon, gently. It's gonna make him laugh because his Mama used to do that when he wouldn't keep out of the sweets, or tried to add stuff to her cooking.

Once you start it becomes habit to help each other in the kitchen every night, trading off who cooks and who preps and does dishes.

If you do find baked goods he likes that aren't too sweet and send them to him as snacks, especially to Overlord meetings, he's so fucking obnoxious about his sweet little doe (doesn't matter if you are one or not) and how they spoil him. Especially rubs it in Vox's face (not him whining to his partner so they send him with treats too so he can also brag).

Only shares with Charlie, Rosie, Niffty, and sometimes Zestiel. If he's feeling generous, Husk can have a bite.

Low-key also has a thing for his partner behaving domestically even if he isn't exactly invested in traditional marriage.

Favorite activity though is dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz while dinner cooks, holding you close, in his room usually, so he can hear the sounds of the bayou. If he closes his eyes he can pretend this is how his life went and that his Mama is in the corner or sitting in her chair, watching him, happy to see him find someone.

He will literally kiss Vox willingly before admitting that last part though.

Lucifer

It's not that he can't cook, it's just....it's easier to just snap his fingers and make food appear. He's been in a depressed slump for decades man, he's lived off of the 'want food, no cook, only eat' mindset.

When you come into his life it's a complete overhaul. Despite what issues you have yourself you can recognize someone in worse state than you and immediately categorize and prioritize. First thing first, get this man's duck collection/obsession organized, thinned out, and under control.

Second, help him work through his issues with Lillith and Charlie. Encourage therapy, be a mediator between him and Charlie (and trust me she appreciates it. She knows her dad struggles, didn't know how bad, and still feels awkward). Help him socialize more, rebuild his connection with the other sins.

Get this man a work schedule!

Then it's on to personal habits. You help him get out of bed, you're both probably a little helpless in the sleeping on time category though. Help him get a routine again to keep out of his funk. Then you start cooking for him. It just happens naturally. You enjoy cooking, you enjoy showing people you love how much you care by providing good meals.

At first he's gonna resist and tell you he can handle that, you already do so much for him. He can cook or better yet he can just make it appear and you laugh and tell him it tastes better when it's made with love. He brushes it off as a joke too, you're both just being silly and obviously you said that to get him to quit fussing. Except, unholy hell does it actually taste so much better.

Lucifer hadn’t realized how bland and unsatisfying just materializing the food was. Maybe that's because he was so depressed and uninterested in what he ate, maybe not. Either way, your cooking is so much fucking better. He actually looks forward to eating now. If he gets caught up in work or has a bad day, you make sure to always bring him something, leaving it as an offering of sorts. It almost always works and entices him to eat at least once.

You cook, he does dishes, and he will not budge on that rule. He wants to be a fair man. He occasionally boots you out to do dessert, though. Apple pie is his bitch and you've never tasted one as good as his. He also makes good pancakes and some absolutely orgasmic angel's food cake.

Ironicall, devil's food cake is one of your go to recipes. Sometimes you both make a cake and take it to events just to watch people get confused as fuck when it's revealed the literal Devil did not make the devil's food cake.

Everyime you're in the kitchen together it's a disaster, you're both to silly and chaotic. You were making noodles one time and he threw flour at you so you smacked him with the noodle you were holding, leaving a line of flour and a speck of dough against his cheek. From there it escalates. It happens every time. Making cakes together, you're smashing frosting on each other. Making cookies, you're fighting each other to stop eating cookie dough.

Once, after you get fed up with him stealing her spatula to lick the chocolate off of, hovering above you with his wings, you pout and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to please give it back. He swoops down in front of you, booping your nose to smear chocolate on it and leaning in to kiss you, letting you have a taste of the chocolate batter you were mixing for brownies. While his tongue is in your mouth, drunk off the taste of you and chocolate you smash an egg over his head and let out a triumphant cheer, snatching back your spatula.

He's so stunned his wings disappear and he drops the last few inches to the ground while you cackle. His heart is pounding, his ears are ringing, and his chest feels like it's gonna explode. His eyes are literal sparkles. He hasn't felt this much joy, wonder, and love since Charlie was born. It feels like witnessing creation all over again, of the breathlessness he felt when he first saw Lillith.

You're laughter stops when you realize he's just staring at you awestruck and you smile, asking if he's ok.

"For once...yeah..Yes. I'm ok." He responds, genuinely. You kiss his cheek and resume baking. He watches you from the counter now, dreamily, thinking about how he's gonna marry you someday.