#re: psychological benefits

[quicktimeeventfull]

i feel like tisanes are one of those things that often get dismissed as kind of new agey and fluffy but they do actually fr have medicinal effects & i truly think everyone should give them a shot.

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Good evening, fellow adhd-haver here! there's... a lot of shoulds and should nots and ideas in here that dont align with your actual reality really, and just because your ideas and notions around what you want your life to look like and what you want to be doing and what you want to enjoy (or dont) come from yourself, supposedly, rather than societal frameworks around "what is the correct way to live", doesn't make your mental structure and your internal emotional landscape any less ineffective or sabotaging to you.

What you wrote has an undercurrent of frustration and hurt and it really doesn't matter whether you chose your ideas yourself or if they're social hand-downs; the things is, your mentality simply isn't lining up with your limitations and capabilities at the moment and you dont have effective methods in place yet to harness your specific strengths and weaknesses, so you just feel awful about it, which is okay. But it's not necessarily how you have to go about it.

My dishes pile up and i sometimes get moldy pans in the fridge for months on end that i forget about, and i have a hard time focusing on many things i love sometimes, and it does bring up a lot of sadness for me, but i dont see ADHD as an illness or a deficiency, it is a different set of gifts, gifts that society at large isn't generally structured to accomodate or make good use of. But they're gifts nonetheless, just misplaced. If you bring a $20k handmade japanese kitchen knife to a mechanic's shop it's gonna feel like an absolutely incoherent and useless and possibly frustrating addition to the space because the tool is not suited to the tasks and skills carried out in there and it can even get in the way and become troublesome, the japanese knife doesn't belong here. That doesn't make it any less valuable and worthy a tool, it just means it's brought to the wrong context.

I dont feel guilt or shame about my dishes piling up and i dont feel bad about the dust on my desk or the fact that i can't focus on my favourite stuff, even though i want to, because i know that while i might feel shitty about these things sometimes, i also have gifts that fit perfectly in their right contexts and i can enjoy them there, and the frustration means i gotta switch, even if it's just for 10 minutes. Bring the japanese kitchen knife to kitchen and you feel fucking good about how well it works and how much it makes cooking easier and more efficient and how much the whole endeavor brings you joy.

It's absolutely alright if you havent found a kitchen where your knife fits yet, it takes time, and you need contexts where the knife fits. It makes the sadness you experience over not being able to attend to your other wants and shoulds and should nots easier. And yep, there's sadness and anger and grief in it. But that doesn't mean that all you have is an illness or deficiency. You're not a problem, you're severely misplaced in your environment, and it brings up so much frustration and it's okay to feel sad about it. Keep what you want to do, but you can also find where your gifs do belong and enjoy applying them there. It's not a this OR that situation, it's this AND that. You're gonna feel bad about sometimes not being able to focus on stuff you love, AND you're gonna apply your strengths in other situations where they're needed and appreciated and where it brings you joy.

I don't strictly "like" taking ADHD meds, the comedown is awful and they play havoc on my appetite. But I kinda need them. I write software for a living. Software requires a great deal of focus that I simply cannot muster up off my meds. If I didn't have my meds, I would lose my job.

Part of this can be blamed on the cruelties of our modern capitalistic system. If the world understood my condition better, maybe I would not need to take stimulants to survive. I read an article once that really went all in on the idea that ADHD's negative perception is a symptom of perception, not an objective truth. Maybe people with ADHD are just as capable, but they do things in a different way to neurotypicals. Maybe all we need is better support, and social solutions, and more understanding of the different way that ADHDers think.

Which is all very compelling. Except.

I often find myself procrastinating activities that I want to do. My apartment has been accumulating dust because I keep forgetting to vacuum. One time I let the dishes in my sink stack too high and it was months before I could get myself to clean the mould off them. The demands of capitalism mean I need to software to pay rent, but sometimes I just want to do software, and no amount of narrative reframing or social support will clear the noise in my head long enough to let me focus on the code.

The notion that ADHD isn't a deficiency, just a different way of thinking, is something I find condescending. The implication here is I shouldn't have to write software, I should be given a different job, and I shouldn't have to maintain my own apartment, I should have the support of my community coming into my room and cleaning my things. But what if I want to do those things? What if I like software, or the privacy of an atomised existence? Maybe society has no right to decide what the correct way to live my life is, but surely I do!

The reason it sucks that it's hard for me to keep my dishes clean is not because the world says so, it is because I say so. It is because sometimes I want to be able to remember to do things and it sucks that I cannot live my life in the way that I want.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

The Hero's Journey (Christopher Vogler)

Heroes are introduced in the ORDINARY WORLD, where

they receive the CALL TO ADVENTURE.

They are RELUCTANT at first or REFUSE THE CALL, but

are encouraged by a MENTOR to

CROSS THE FIRST THRESHOLD and enter the Special World, where

they encounter TESTS, ALLIES, AND ENEMIES.

They APPROACH THE INMOST CAVE, crossing a second threshold

where they endure the ORDEAL.

They take possession of their REWARD and

are pursued on THE ROAD BACK to the Ordinary World.

They cross the third threshold, experience a RESURRECTION, and are transformed by the experience.

They RETURN WITH THE ELIXIR, a boon or treasure to benefit the Ordinary World

The Hero's Journey Model:

In psychological terms this stage represents the resolve of the hero to return to the Ordinary World and implement the lessons learned in the Special World.

This can be far from easy. The hero has reason to fear that the wisdom and magic of the Ordeal may evaporate in the harsh light of common day.

No one may believe the hero's miraculous escape from death.

The adventures may be rationalized away by skeptics.

But most heroes determine to try.

The stages of the Hero's Journey are a good guide to the steps needed to create a realistic character arc:

CHARACTER ARC — HERO'S JOURNEY

limited awareness of a problem — Ordinary World

increased awareness — Call to Adventure

reluctance to change — Refusal

overcoming reluctance — Meeting with the Mentor

committing to change — Crossing the Threshold

experimenting with first change — Tests, Allies, Enemies

preparing for big change — Approach to Inmost Cave

attempting big change — Ordeal

consequences of the attempt — Reward (Seizing the Sword) (improvements and setbacks)

re-dedication to change — The Road Back

final attempt at big change — Resurrection

final mastery of the problem — Return with the Elixir

Source: Christopher Vogler's The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers (3rd Edition)

Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[cranberrymoons]

i feel like a true shannon reading suffers from the fact that we basically only see her from eddie's pov which up until her death was pretty objective and honest, but as soon as she died became unreliable in the Extreme. and people forget that he is an unreliable narrator of his own life and is also trying to keep a positive memory of her alive for chris's sake. when what chris would actually benefit from at this point would be an honest adult conversation about her and her loss and her death and what her leaving did to him psychologically. and also eddie blaming himself for what happened with her, because if she had lived the truth is they would have gotten a divorce and it would have been messy and i do not think she would have fought very hard for custody. and she would have justified it by saying chris was happy with eddie but it would have really been more about her wanting that "time to figure out how to be a mom" which is vague but sounded like she was planning to leave again. (this is also why i don't really buy into Buck And Shannon Would Have Been Friends because buck is the exact kind of partner who would be open and honest and loud about his haterism re eddie's ex wife)

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Astarions Agonies

Why WOULD you want to love someone after everything has been taken from you? Everything but your name. Everything but your name

Your sense of taste, the warmth of your skin, your own heartbeat. Your reflection in the mirror. Your home, your clothes, your friends, your family. Your history, memories, your life.

Stripped of all of this, left with only the ability to feel. Mentally. Physically. And then that, too, is broken. Because it cannot be taken, so it must be controlled.

Anyone you care for, murdered. And not just murdered, but you have to do it. You have to bring them to their death. Maybe you have to watch. So you protect yourself, you protect them- whoever they nay be, whoever they could have been. You cannot care. You cannot. The consequences are too high.

Your body, every touch you delight in is perverted by the same solemn end. How can you enjoy this, even as a distraction from the more violent touches you are forced to endure, when you are still being forced? You cannot choose the sweet, the kind, the gentle, for they meet the same fate as the cruel, the evil, the fools. Picking soft touches over harsh ones fades to picking at random, to grabbing whoever you can get. Because it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It all ends the same way.

And then there is the pain. The Punishments. At first, tastes of who you are- who you can be, are traded out; exchanged for physical torment and 'correction' of your behavior. But the punishments so hea ily outweigh the benefits of a snide remark, a night out too late, a prank, a room visited after being informed it is off limits. A victim you refused to hand over.

This life- no, this Un-death allows for a greater torment than any living person could survive. Hunger, thirst, pain, psychological abuse, sexual abuse. Never, ever ending. There is not a second in the day for two hundred years that you are not watched, used, handled, beaten, starved. Even in your rest there is no relief, for you cannot sleep but only enter reverie- a skill wherein your mind re-lives what you have been through, over and over.

So why would you choose to try to love someone? Why try to trust? Why, when you know what happens when you do?

Perhaps you've been allowed to believe you made it out before, only to have been captured and dragged back. Perhaps you've been allowed to believe a friend or a lover has escaped before, only to be called into a room and advised to clean up their corpse.

The only difference now is the sun on your skin.

The distance between you and that place.

The days, and days, and days that begin to pass with no retribution for your insolence, for your escape.

And these people, these idiots keep... not trying to kill you. Even when they find out what you are. One of them keeps looking at you like they might really care. You can use that, can't you?

Why would you love, when you could use their love to get your revenge?

But... in the wee hours of the morning, in the arms of a living, breathing person who has bedded you more than once and still is not gone forever, you think... maybe, maybe He didn't take it All from you.

Maybe even if he did, you could get it back.

Maybe you could love.

Maybe you could... try living, again.

[corinescorner]

Why is fakeclaiming harmful?

First, what is fakeclaiming? It means: accusing someone of faking their experience as a system.

One of the most immediate dangers is psychological harm. Accusations of faking can invalidate a system’s sense of identity and exacerbate struggles with self-doubt or imposter syndrome. For trauma-based systems, fakeclaiming can be particularly damaging, as it may re-trigger feelings of shame or guilt tied to their past experiences. It can also worsen mental health conditions, most likely increasing symptoms like anxiety, dissociation, or depression, and pushing systems further into isolation.

The harm can extend beyond individuals and affects the entire community. Fakeclaing ensures division and gatekeeping. Which creates an atmosphere of distrust and judgement within the plural community.

Systems could feel unsafe about sharing their experiences, which could lead to disconnection and alienation. Furthermore, accusations of faking could reinforce social stigma, adding to skeptism and ridicule that systems already face.

This harm is significant for endogenic systems, self-originating or non-trauma related systems, whose experience are often dismissed due to lack of mainstream understanding.

Fakeclaiming also stems from, and reinforces, ableism. It upholds the idea that people with mental health conditions, neurodivergent experiences, or systems, must constantly "prove" their legitimacy to others. This attitude discourages people with DID/OSDD from seeking diagnosis or therpay from fear of being displeased. Which could delay access to validation and care.

Marginalized groups, such as impacted by race, class, or gender, are even more likely to be fakeclaimed. This ableist mindset oversimplifies the complexity of plurality, and disregards how varied and nuanced system experiences can be.

On a social level; fakeclaiming can isolate people from their support systems. Accusations, especially public ones online, can lead to harassment, ridicule, and bullying, keaving systems without emotional or practical support they need.

The fear of being disbelieved may cause systems to hide their experiences entirely, even from therapists and trusted friends. Which prevents them from receiving validation or accessing professional help. For trauma-based systems, this is extremely damaging, as support and understanding are vital for healing.

All in all, fakeclaiming harms everyone, both endogenic and trauma-based systems, as well as the extended plural community. It invalidates real systems, reinforces harmful stigma, and causes emotional and psychological damage.

Instead of accusing others, we should have open mindnessness and supportive words that create a safer space for systems to exist without fear. If there's ever uncertainty for their system, we should focus on listening and harm reduction. No one can fully know another's reality, and invalidation rarely helps anyone.

A culture of compassion, understanding, and love, benefits everyone involved.

[creature-wizard]

Quick rundown on my actual positions re: the Law of Assumption & reality shifting right now:

I think the practices associated with the Law of Assumption can provide a very real psychological benefit, and I think many practitioners have successfully used it to overcome problems stemming from anxiety, poor self-image, etc.

I am broadly in favor of people using these practices, insofar as they don't exacerbate other mental issues and insecurities, or create other problems. (Needing other people to feel jealous of you to feel good about yourself is inherently unhealthy. Revision is just lying to yourself or others. Everyone Is You Pushed Out is both dehumanizing and victim-blaming.)

I don't think "reality shifting" actually moves people into parallel universes or whatever. I think the manifestation type version works the same way I think the Law of Assumption works. I think the "travel to my favorite fictional world and meet my blorbos" version essentially works by inducing a kind of deep, intense dream state.

I also think confirmation bias leads people to interpret random coincidences and things that probably would've happened anyway as cases of successful manifestation.

I think many cases of successful manifestation can also be explained by the frequency illusion in action. I think they technically count as successes from a psychological standpoint, since it would mean practitioners have successfully trained their brains to hone in on things they want.

I genuinely don't care if you believe that a metaphysical element might be involved. That's fine with me. I draw the line at telling people that they can absolutely, 100% manifest anything at all if they just Do It Right, and at telling people that they are 100% responsible for literally everything that happens to them. There is no context in which claims like these do not lead to psychological and physical harm.

Maybe there are individual cases where Law of Assumption practitioners experienced an extraordinary healing of some kind. I have my own reasons to think that in some rare instances, these things actually do happen. But I also know that there is no reason to think that LOA practices were specifically responsible for it, and I also know that statistically speaking, faith healing kills.

I think a lot of people in this community are lying, because that's just human nature/the nature of the Internet. There's always people who lie.

I also can't rule out psychosis for some people, either.

I have learned from researching and studying scams, cults, and hoaxes that when someone refuses to provide solid evidence to back up their extraordinary claims, it's because they're lying, and that those who play the victim or vilify people when asked for solid evidence want to take advantage of others in some way.

I have also learned that all scammers, cultists/cult leaders, and hoaxters will try to make you think they're the Very Special Exception to this rule. They are not. They never are.

I think the practice of Living In The End is a potential incentive to make false claims. If you're living as if it's already fulfilled, it would only make sense to write a "success story," right?

People who claim they changed the color of their eyes might also not be aware that your eye color can look different under different lighting.

Use the void state or don't, I don't care. I don't think it's harmful. I think it might be beneficial for some. I just don't think it's going to enable you manifest new parents overnight or resurrect the dead or whatever. Again, I think the LOA's benefits are primarily psychological.

I think Neville Goddard was a liar. His ideas didn't come from Kabbalah, they came from Phineas Quimby. They don't derive from Jewish mysticism; they're a close relative of Prosperity Gospel.

I think "Edward Art" is yet another content farm channel.

Spiritual abuse dolled up as self-empowerment is still spiritual abuse. "But we're helping people!" Cool motive, still abuse.

If you're more upset by people calling out the toxic bullshit going on in the Law of Assumption community than you are by the toxic bullshit going on in the Law of Assumption community, you need to fix your heart.

For anyone reading this: If you are leaving or questioning the Law of Assumption and need help, please see this post.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

So small

RecomLyle x HumanReader

Summary: This you

Gif source

Or Reader becomes obsessed with Lyle through old recordings and is a little disappointment when they meet him.

Corporal Lyle Wainfleet was dead, a fact you had to remind yourself everyday. It'd been one of your duties in preparation before reaching Pandora to go over the archive footage. With the Recombinants almost ready to be paired with their soul drives the lead scientist had though it prudent. More data to better smooth their transition.

You'd sifted through hours of log entries and recorded calls and felt you had a pretty good grasp on the team. Especially important seeing as you'd be their physician going forward. The job wasn't sought after, in fact they'd practically begged you to take it.

You were pretty anxious about meeting the team. Every one of them was a battle hardened soldier and you felt very meek in comparison. Though there was perhaps one soldier you were looking forward to meeting.

It was a secret shame, you held tightly to your chest. Corporal Lyle Wainfleet was the Colonel's right hand man. This was perhaps the reason he came up so often in the footage. Videos of him on na'vi attack sights, behind the Colonel during meetings and your personal favourite, the soul drive talk.

He was cheeky, smart and handsome. You couldn't get enough of his voice. Listening back to clips hundreds of times just to re-hear a joke. God you'd even been taking extra trips down to the lab. All under the guise of checking up on things of course.

He was almost ready now. His toned muscle formed using probing shocks over the journey, giving him his old build. The techs had images pulled up of his profile, fully body images that you definitely didn't spend too long ogling.

They were preparing to redo his tattoos. A technique they'd discovered with the old Avatar program. It did something to help them psychologically adjust, having those parts of themselves intact. It's why they were also shaving his head, best to give them the best start they could.

You admired his new face on the gurney. Four others had already been woken up, all separately. Each person given the full attention of the staff as it was a rather traumatic experience. Your heart already ached for him, this wasn't gonna be pleasant. Prager had had a full on panic attack and Zdog was still quaking.

You sucked in a deep breath and began the program. It took a good while for the drive to finish. You sat tapping your foot, sweating in the hazmat suit. It was for the recoms benefit, best to have their own air fill their lungs at this stage. The lights turned off the apparatus on his head, the screen reading his brain function lighting up.

Your colleague gave you a nod, it was time. The IV's were detached and you readied the final step. A needle containing the compound that'd clear the anesthetic. With a final push the months of anticipation ended.

Lyle woke slowly, his eyes barely able to stay open against the bright light. You shifted into vision to block it, watching his pupils focus on you, dilating slightly. Good response, reflexes were working!

"Lyle Wainfleet? Can you hear me?" You began, there were a few basic protocols to run through. He groaned in response, trying to turn from the bright light your colleague shone in his eyes.

They had begun the physical response tests, seemingly eager to be done with all this. You shot them a look before they pulled back their hand from his ear exasperated. However the damage had been done, Lyle had felt his ear flick.

It was chaos then. You took a few steps back as Lyle shot up. He stumbled around, staring at his hands, his legs, every inch of blue skin visible. In the heightened state his tail began to thrash behind him, causing him more distress as he noted the new limb.

"Lyle. Lyle?" You called after him. Stepping slowing into his vision as he held his tail in a fist. His panicked eyes shot to you, taking in your own guarded stance. You hand your hands raised, edging closer.

He relaxed a little, still breathing heavily as you closed the distance. You put a hand gently on his arm, smiling up at his pale expression.

"You're okay Lyle, it's all okay. Any questions you have I can answer, you'll remember soon." You squeezed his arm gently as you spoke. His breathing settled and he stood up straighter, returning you smile.

Even in this new form it sent butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"Till then please come sit, we have a few more test to run." You ushered him to follow you back to the gurney, glaring at your sheepish colleague.

The tests went by much easier after that. His demeanor settling back to the man you'd met through the screens. You felt a little guilty now, having invaded this man's privacy. Though all the videos were RDA record and he'd been aware of that whilst recording, it still made you uneasy. This new Lyle wouldn't know how much you already knew about him.

You lead him out of the medical wing, giving him an air mask before getting out of the hazmat. You were relieved it'd be tomorrow before you'd be back in it to wake the Colonel. You could feel the sweat drip down your chest, god you needed a shower.

You looked up at Lyle, who in turn was staring down at you. You flushed, you must look a mess. His eyes trailed over your form before something seemed to distract him.

"Where's everyone else?" He asked, his head turning to look down the corridor.

"Oh um, follow me!" You lead him to those who'd already been awoken. You'd felt a little disappointed, having hoped you'd be able to spend a little more time with him. You'd have plenty you reassured yourself, being the teams doctor. Still you wished he'd joke with you, chat like he did with the others in the videos. He'd seemed uninterested in you.

The other Recoms were delighted to see Lyle. Jostling around him to welcome him back. Fike shifted round to clap his shoulder, nudging you with his leg and tail.

"Hey! hey!" Lyle scolded, suddenly scooping you up by the underarms. You flush as you dangle in the air for a second before Lyle sets you down out the way. "Careful of the little doctor." He nodded to you before returning his attention to the others.

"Shoot my bad." Fike sighed, his ears tipping as he glances over to you. You smiled up at him, he'd had a real hard time when he woke. The physical tests went great until he got the spacial ones. The much larger form and tail were gonna take a lot of getting used to.

"Where's the Colonel?" Lyle questioned, looking across the familiar faces. Zdog had her hand on his shoulder. You recognized her from the videos. She seemed to be pretty close to Lyle, the thought twisting in your gut.

She was pretty. No she was gorgeous. Long toned legs, beautiful, strong and her tattoos? Who could compare. You swallowed, hard, Lyle's stern expression turning to you.

"Oh he's still asleep. We're waking him tomorrow, first thing." You added, Lyle's frown still fixed on you. He looked annoyed at you before grumbling and stalking to his locker.

You floundered a little. Looking around at the recoms backs before turning to leave. Your fantasy of being friends fizzling away. It was stupid, these were soldiers. They didn't want a little doctor buddy. They didn't need your friendship. The job ahead of your looking grim now, you went to your own quarters in a slump.

You were called upon the next day. The unit were antsy and wanted to be there when you woke the Colonel. It wasn't against any of the protocols and if you were honest you would like the back up.

They seemed in much higher spirits at least. Though this was only really shared between themselves. You only got a glance from Lyle, who had smiled at least. Maybe just glad you'd allowed them to be here, even shifted the procedure to be earlier than scheduled.

You'd been dreading waking Colonel Quaritch up since you were added to the project. With his background and temperament he was going to be trouble, you just knew it.

Still you went through the protocol, ushering the unit to stand back out of view for the moment. Given the Colonel's background with na'vi, their faces wouldn't be best to wake up to.

You read out his pulse as he came too, eyes twitching open. You leaned over his form as your colleague, brought out his pen light again. You grumbled, he was technically in charge and your boss until you landed. You still would've liked to give Quaritch a moment before shining a light right in his face.

"Your fine, lie still stay calm" You spoke, smiling gently at his shifting form. Hoping your words could make up for the rude awaking.

"Pupillary reflex good" Your colleague spoke. Behind him you spied Lyle approaching quickly, frowning deeply. You wanted to tell him to stay back but he was there too quick.

"Get that out of his face." He grumbled, pulling the other doctor back by his shoulder. Lyle leaned into Quaritch's face.

"Colonel. you hear me? Colonel?" He shook Quaritch's shoulder gently. Suddenly Quaritch swung at him, fist connecting with his cheek.

You flinched back at the sudden movement, watching as Lyle caught himself on the parallel gurney. You backed up again as Quaritch flung himself off the bed, catching himself on the IV poll.

"You need to lie back down Sir!" You yelled, panic tinging your voice. Lyle approached him again, raising his hands to try calm him. Quaritch growled at him before lunging forward, grabbing the over head light and flinging it at him

You shrieked, backing up more as Quaritch grabbed your tray of medical tools and threw it too. The sharp implements flung wildly in the air. You swung your hands up to protect your face from the hail of equipment.

Lyle moved forward past you again. He went to grab Quaritch's shoulder but was pushed off harshly again, Quaritch hissing.

"Sedate him, sedate him!" You called over to your stunned colleague. The man seemed frozen across the room, shifting back further into the corner.

Fike snuck up behind Quaritch to grab him but you saw his ears flick back, hearing his approach. He spun and struck him, sending Fike sprawling against the wall.

Lyle rushed to you now. "Go get out of here" He fretted, hand coming gently to your shoulder. You were still, hesitating, worried you were still needed here.

"You get out of here, go!" He shouted more firmly now, ushering you to the exit with speed. He pushed you more urgently to it before turning back to the team.

You stumbled through the door, calling down the hall for security before turning back to the window.

The team had him now, pinned between them with Lyle grabbing his torso.

"Colonel calm down. Colonel it's me. Corporal Wainfleet!" He shifts around staying in Quaritch's line of sight. Even from your distance you catch the recognition, breathing a sigh of relief when Quaritch's body stills.

A security officer approached, gun drawn. You wave him off, giving him the all clear before re-entering the room. Quaritch stalked over to the mirror to investigate his reflection. You spied your colleague more put together again, itching to escape but caught on the other side of giant bodies.

Lyle glanced back over to you, his hand shot up to stop your approach as he eyed his boss. Lyle's nose is still bleeding from where he was hit, blood trickling down onto his shirt.

When Quaritch moved to your colleague to be examined you approach Lyle.

"Let me take a look at that." You say as you get closer. Lyle looks down to you, hand coming up to his nose. He seems surprised when it comes away bloody but dismisses it.

"It's fine." He waves you off. You sigh, at his dismissal, you should probably check Fike out too.

"Just let me see if its broken." You say firmly. Lyle pauses looking back to you a moment, he hesitates but relents. You expect him to move to the gurney but instead he takes a knee in front of you.

You step closer, to the side of his leg, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks at the proximity. You let your hands touch his face gently, keeping your focus on his nose, rather than his watching eyes. You press lightly on the bridge.

"Ow!" Lyle yelps, you pull your hands away suddenly.

"Oh god I sorry!" You feel your face heat further but he just laughs, grinning at you.

"Just playin' buttercup" He smirks. Your face falls into a scowl that only makes him laugh more.

"You're fine." You grumble. He smiles widely at you before getting back up. Your heart flutters as he taps your shoulder gently before going back over to Quartich.

Fike is okay too, these guys too tough for a little punch to do any harm. He smiles broadly at you before jumping down to rejoin the group. Still Lyle cannot help but watch over his shoulder at you both. Sweet little thing worrying about these big soldiers.

He'd done some digging last night, too anxious to sleep. You were gonna be stationed with them. There own personal doctor, trained to deal with their new biology. He was glad for it, nice to have you stuck with them. He wanted desperately to get to know you better.

He'd really though he was dead when he saw you hovering over him, his own angel. Feeling a little too shell shocked to flirt but there was room to now. He'd really enjoyed your cute little frown at his joke, maybe a little ill timed. Still he had all week to charm you before you landed and he intended to.

[ckret2]

I love your writing so much oh my gosh! :D It does make me sad that there will be no karaoke night flashbacks do to the fact this was written pre TBOB however. :( Also If I may ask, could Bill have called Kyptos back or...? Would he have needed to re-do the entire summoning and run out of time before Ford would come in? If so, could he not just do the summoning again at night when everyone is asleep? I am sure Kyptos would eventually pic up phone if he had been bothered enough. Also,

vivian-za-determined-luna-moth asked: -Could Bill break any windows? Perhaps Bill was simply bluffing when he asked if Stan wanted a broken window? I understand not breaking that one considering the long fall and fragile nature of human leg bones however, there should be a handful of windows on the second floor. If he made the statement about the window, then he probably knew how easily they shatter. Did he forget how to break one? Apologies If I sound rude, I simply love your work and am really invested. Toodaloo!

Hey, that doesn't rule out the possibility there could be a future flashback to karaoke night. I don't currently have plans to but it wouldn't be surprising for it to come up eventually.

Yes, Bill would have had to do the whole ritual again to call Kyrptos back; and nah, if Bill had called back, Kryptos would have taken one look at the weird human lady and gone "oh YOU again" and hung up, and probably just stopped answering if he kept getting calls. I'm sure there's some way to turn on a psychic "do not disturb" setting or block a particular caller or something. Bill was right not to try calling Kryptos again without a way to ensure he'd listen.

(This is a subtle hint that Bill is going to find a way to ensure he listens.)

Bill is physically and mentally capable of breaking a glass pane. Under the terms of the no doors no windows curse on him, he's magically prevented from realizing breaking the glass could help him get out the window. If he threatens to break a window, it's like threatening to break a mirror, a chair, or a TV: he doesn't think it would help him escape, it's just a threat of property destruction he thinks the Pines would want to avoid. Because of that, he probably wouldn't actually do it unless he thinks the potential benefit outweighs the potential punishment.

If he did break a window, he'd be surprised and confused to see that the window's now "open" and he can get through it. It would be like if he kicked a football and a fruitcake materialized in his hands. Absolutely no logical connection between the action and the result.

He would be incapable of deliberately repeating the "if I break the glass, somehow it opens the window" feat; the curse would prevent him from making any "X opens the window/door" connections. If he broke another window, he'd be surprised again to discover that opens the window. But as long as he consciously recalls that breaking the glass opens the window, he'd be unable to break the glass again even if opening the window wasn't his actual goal. He'd have to momentarily forget about that side effect.

As long as he's cursed, he's not getting through a closed door/window unless he can completely psychologically divorce his current action from any resemblance to the idea of opening a door/window.

But hey, that's not impossible. You read chapter 6. You know Bill can find ways through unopenable doors.

(And if you haven't reached the chapter where he figures it out—you will soon.)

[thefrenchydude]

Murderous Lust - Chapter 1 : (Re-)Acquaintanced.

(Here is the first chapter of the new version of Murderous Lust written by @nocturneeros. I loved it, hope y'all do too.)

The stars are so pretty tonight. The air on this balcony is so fresh… And yet…

He still can’t help but feel as though something will go wrong at any moment. Or, more accurately, that something is missing from his life. Something that watches him, lurking in the dark, waiting for the chance to reveal itself and force him to acknowledge it. And only then will he begin to remember the tormentor provoking these feelings.

[Name] can’t find it in him to bring this situation up to his husband. How is he supposed to describe an invisible — potentially entirely unreal — danger? The nightmares he has of two creatures encompassed by shadow holding him prisoner. Two silhouettes that don’t stay in the shape of anything he can make out.

He would surely be treated as a madman.. There’s nobody he can say from his past that has given him this fear. Even with all of the things he’s done, everything that haunts him now…

That’s right. It’s more likely to be some sort of subconscious torment. He must be doing this to himself. But it’s not like he knows psychology well enough to put any words to what these nightmares might be coming from. That’s far beyond him.

It would make sense, though, given the other half of his nightmares. They’re all far more explicit in replaying the horrors of the life he left behind. The innocent faces he killed that blur in his memories, as though they’re still as inconsequential to him as he forced himself to believe while doling out their untimely demise. 

He can still feel the weight of a knife in his hand, the way the handle would start slipping once his victim was covered in blood. When he was more inexperienced, he would never know how to grasp it right. That left many a scar on his dominant hand, where the blade would cut him, allowing their blood to mix with his own.

If it wasn’t a knife, it was his hands around their neck. He’s glad he can’t remember any of their faces. Not how they looked when he was squeezing the life from them, cutting off their airflow. He’s grateful for the fact that he can’t remember the light leaving their eyes.

But he had to. He had to do it so that he could live to see another day. Even in that life, where he slept in the cold filth, body covered in bruises. He had to do what he could. Anything to survive. Death was not an option. Not a more favorable one, at least.

Lex was his way out. [Name] tried again and again to claw his way out of the pit he was unfortunate enough to be in. Every single attempt failed, sometimes sending him back further than where he had initially started.

[Name] can still remember meeting him when he was at his worst so many years ago. Lex was charming, well-dressed, and a rather influential man in Auroria. Still is. And he has given [Name] everything. A new chance at life, a huge house to live in, a comfortable bed to sleep in, strong arms to fall into. At some point, [Name] was able to see past his money and looks, falling for his husband’s compassion and tender behavior.

Those are traits he can’t remember seeing from many. Especially not the rich and elite.

Maybe they can change that, though.

If they can change others’ lives the same way Lex changed his…

It’s also because of that man, after all, that [Name] has managed to rise to the top of society. He’s met the city’s most influential people through his husband. What type of cretin would he be, with all of the damage he’s done, if he didn’t use this new chance for the benefit of his city? He has to fight the inequality and poverty he’s personally witnessed running rampant. He has to keep more young kids who would have otherwise had bright futures from falling into the same pits he did.

“[Name]? Are you up here?” Lex’s voice rings out from behind him, and [Name] turns, met with the sight of his lover’s concerned face.

“I am. Sorry. What’s wrong?” He stands, Lex’s small smile sending his heart fluttering. The relief in his eyes is flattering. He’s still not used to being fretted over. He’s not sure if he ever will be.

“Just looking for you. Wanted to see if you’re all set for the party?”

“Oh, I am. Don’t worry.” It was just going to be another stuffy party. One for celebration and schmoozing. [Name] shrugs, not really looking forward to rubbing elbows with the other rich folk, but he can make do if it’s for a better future.

Lex’s hand comes up to his cheek, and it seems as though he’s searching [Name]’s eyes for something. Trying to tell if he’s bluffing, perhaps? Whatever signs he’s seeking, however, he doesn’t find it, and sighs before kissing the other man on the forehead. “Good. Let’s go get dinner, yeah?” His voice is soft, soothing, and [Name] is quick to agree, eager to get any food in his stomach.

***

The evening of the party rolls around. The manor they’re hosting in has been decorated to the nines, all glammed up to celebrate the city’s 500th Anniversary.

Truthfully, [Name] can’t find it in himself to love this city. The bitterness of what he experienced living here weighs on him. Getting to this position didn’t cure him of the trauma wrought onto him, nor did it bring back the lives he took away just to survive.

But that’s what he’s trying to change. So even if he has to rub elbows with the prissy little aristocrats who are convinced there’s nothing that needs fixing…

Not ready to talk with the other influential members of society quite yet, [Name]’s eyes dart around the room, locking onto his husband. He is quick to make his way over to Lex, waiting until he finishes speaking before pulling him over to the side. Despite this, Lex is the first to speak, keeping his voice low. “Hey. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Debatable. [Name] has always hated these gatherings. He much prefers getting his hands dirty with busywork. All of this conversation is never good for him. It wears him out far too fast. “You?”

“You know I’m okay.” Very true. Lex was born into this. Accustomed to it. Way better at handling people than [Name] ever would be. “But why did you pull me over?” It was normal for [Name] to ask for Lex’s attention if he got overwhelmed (which he did quite frequently during these things). Or even to regroup and discuss something serious so that they knew how to tackle it — like convincing someone more influential than them to help push some plan or other. But given that the party has just started…

“Do you think they’ll come?”

“No. They never do.”

Right.

Still, though… [Name] can’t help the dark, wriggling sensation in his chest when he thinks about them. Perhaps it’s just the rumors, but he’s never been one to be this nervous about someone he’s not likely to ever meet. Even if they’re demons, the persistent anxiety is rather excessive and terribly draining on his psyche.

Lex is more sensible than he, however. He should probably trust his judgment on this.

“You’re right. I’ll go talk with some of the guests.”

Lex smiles at him, leaning over to brush a small kiss on his cheek before pulling back. “I’ll be upstairs, then. You cover down here.”

[Name] nods, watching his husband leave before turning to the crowd.

Steeling himself, he heads into the heart of the party, working his way through each group and their issues one by one.

The first is a huffy nobleman thoroughly upset by the rampant crime running through the city. A common take.

“We really need to do something about these criminals. They’re getting far too bold!”

[Name] purses his lips, mind flashing to a… specific group he really, really needs to get out of this city. He feels as though this guy just means the poor, though. “We do…” Test the limits. Vaguely agree. The typical way to get around these people without stepping on any toes and control his own temper. “What do you propose we do about them?”

Of course, this man uses that time to spout things [Name] knows is entirely unrealistic and can’t be proposed to anyone higher-up on a serious level. Not responsibly, at least. There’s so much that goes into these things… Funds, regulations, majority agreement. The idea of it all makes his head spin. Just taking it one step at a time feels overwhelming at times.

If it were that easy, this city would already be thriving. Lex and [Name] have their own ideas on how to get there, regardless of what these prissy little peacocks dressed as men say.

When he escapes that conversation, it’s right into the figurative arms of a noblewoman flooded with anxiety and fretting over the potential arrival of those esteemed guests.

“I heard they’re actually coming today. Is that true?”

[Name] has a good idea of who she’s talking about, yet he furrows his brow anyway and cocks his head, not wanting to assume. It’d be embarrassing to make a fool of himself around these people… And damage his reputation. Such are the flights of fancy of those higher up. “Who?”

“The founders.”

Ah. [Name] had thought there was a chance for them to arrive, too… This is the 500th year, after all. That’s a pretty big milestone… Truthfully, he thinks there can still be a chance, however small. “Perhaps. I guess we’ll see, huh?” He forces a smile he hopes feels cheeky and mysterious, his own mind wandering…

After listening to her vent out her fears, he’s met with something far less infuriating to deal with. Simple, boring, mundane chatter. But welcome simple, boring, mundane chatter.

“I’ve been thinking of expanding Mark’s Grove.”

“That little park off by the river?”

The noble [Name] speaks to nods emphatically, almost bursting at the seams to talk about this little passion project of theirs. “Yes! It’s so cute, isn’t it? But the kids around there complain about how little room there is to play. It’d definitely be perfect if it was larger. We could even add a playground and a sports field!”

That’s true… Right now, it just felt like the typical random park people went to for picnics. A nice spot to go to if you had some downtime for relaxing. Maybe even for a midnight stroll. But nothing quite that exciting. Especially not for kids.

“That sounds amazing. We really do need more places for kids to have fun. Keeps them out of trouble.”

The noble practically glows, grinning when [Name] agrees with them. “Right! My house is going to host a fundraising event for it next month. Will we see you there?”

“I’ll have to talk with my husband, but it’s very likely. It’s a wonderful venture. I’ll make sure to spread the word, at the very least, even if we can’t make it ourselves.”

“Oh, you’re so gracious!”

That noble lavishes him with praises that he quite enjoys, and then [Name] is off to the next. And the next. And the next… One after another…

After much verbal dancing around, [Name] manages to find the time to sit down. Close to being overwhelmed, he takes a glass of wine and sips from it, eyes roaming the crowd. And as he drinks, he thinks about those invited guests who aren’t likely to arrive despite being much anticipated.

Demons who stayed on everyone’s mind. Warlords who defeated another powerful demon that destroyed the village on which Auroria was built. Their beloved had been sacrificed in the process. Everyone knew the tragedy of their story.

It was worth the admiration. However, there were rumors that the demon had murdered the couples’ lover. And that the aforementioned lover had initially been abducted by the two, held captive. There was a chance that the demon monkeys had destroyed the town themselves in revenge for the fall of their lover.

Who knows? Only the ones who were alive 500 years ago. They were the ones who wrote this city’s history.

[Name] takes another sip of his wine just as something catches his eye…

It would seem as though Lex was wrong this time. They had come. Two silhouettes that feel… far more familiar than they should have, move through the party.

Liu’er Mihou, the Six-Eared Macaque. A tall simian with black fur and dark purple eyes. One would look at him and assume he was of the more stoic sort, and yet there was a furrow in his brow, a hand on his hip, and his tail curled around one of his legs. It would be wrong to say his attention was truthfully on the floor; it was more so that he appeared off in his own little world, pondering something [Name] figured he would never be able to fathom, seemingly completely disinterested in the party he had arrived at.

Alongside him stood his brother in arms, Sun Wukong, the more powerful of the two. This simian had orange fur that matched his eyes. This demon was far more standoffish and aware of his surroundings than his companion. His gaze cuts through the crowd, a small sneer on his face. For someone who founded and protected this city, he was awfully hostile to the partygoers at this celebration. That alone is enough to scare the majority of the crowd off from even attempting to speak with him.

Both of them are stunningly well-dressed. They wear corsets matching their colorful irises, the stylish pants covering their bottom halves helping bring attention to the way the tops accentuate their figures. With a bit of unease, [Name] notes the war paint they have not bothered to wash off their faces before arriving.

However, there’s a high chance he’s just overthinking it. The demons were sure to have customs separate from the ones humans upheld. He can’t fathom what their society must be like. The world they live in.

Unfortunately, the aristocrats also had to extend an invitation to the monkeys’ descendants. A common formality, regardless of the distress they caused and their ill reputations. It doesn’t help that in numbers, they make up a whole tribe.

Unlike their parents, they’re seen way too often for anyone’s liking. They bring with them nothing but chaos, tormenting and murdering citizens with lack of care for the lives of the weak mortals. [Name] has been doing his best to find a way to banish them from the city, but given their sheer numbers, power, and who they’re descended from…

It’s easier said than done.

Feeling a headache coming on just thinking about dealing with the rowdy crowd mixing with the prissy little aristocrats, [Name] watches the duo cross the room. Something about them sends a chill through him. The sensation is like ice entering his veins, filling him up with the distinct sense of dread and danger. The urge to flee.

And yet, when he hears the orange siminian’s voice… He can’t make out the words being muttered to the darker companion, and yet his heart still clenches with that heart-wrenching familiarity he can’t understand, no matter how much he thinks about it.

Reaching his breaking point for what he can handle without becoming overwhelmed, [Name] looks around, only to find Lex busy with a small group. Not wanting to distract his husband from something important with his petty little woes, he worries his lip before standing, leaving his unfinished wine on the table before disappearing upstairs, seeking out solace only some alone time in an unoccupied bathroom can give him before he returns to tending to the guests.

When he gets there, he locks the door behind him and sits on the closed toilet seat, burying his face in his hands. Now that he’s up here without any prying eyes, he can allow himself to fall apart.

The shaking in his hands. The racing of his heart. His whole body is trembling and it’s rather difficult to breathe. He squeezes his eyes shut, doing his best to feel it out. Let it happen. It’s always better than allowing it to become pent up. The breakdowns he has when he does so aren’t worth it. He’s hurt Lex during them. He can’t bear to do it again.

He has no idea how much time passes up here. But he stays there, unmoving, until the tremors fade. Still feeling shaky and disoriented, he rises, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water into his face until he feels entirely cooled down.

Once he’s back to his senses, he pats his face dry, breathes in, and releases a heavy sigh. Count to 10.

You’ll be okay.

[Name] returns downstairs, making his way through the crowd, calming down some of the nobles who are more finicky and anxious about the arrival of the demons.

“I never knew they’d actually come…”

[Name] nods along, his agreement idle and kept purposefully vague, not wanting to cause any ire or stir up any drama that’d have long-lasting, potentially devastating consequences. “It is certainly a surprise. It looks as though they have dressed up for it, no? They may see our efforts and respect it.”

“They don’t look happy…”

“We know not their customs. Perhaps they are here on a formality.” The same reason their descendants were invited… “We asked them to come. It is important. We should not be so judgmental to the ones protecting us.” Of course, [Name] can’t help but feel rather apprehensive about them as well, but it’s his responsibility to make sure this doesn’t spiral into something terrible, right?

They shouldn’t anger them. That could undo so much progress — it could set them back and leave them worse off.

A noblewoman chimes in. “But the others…”

Ah. Yeah. It’s far more fair to be anxious about the arrival of the criminals. [Name] has to think on his response before speaking.

“We have to be courteous to those related to our founders, even if they aren’t of the best character themselves. It is important to carry yourself with-”

Before he can finish what he was saying, there’s a crash off to the right. The small group he’s in whips their heads around to see what’s going on.

There’s a human laying in the mess of a toppled table — likely thrown right into it. The offender is immediately clear. A monkey girl with a wine stain on her dress is glaring right at him. [Name] recognizes her as Da Xia; she’s one of the many constant troublemakers they deal with.

“Pardon me.” [Name] dips his head and departs from his group, quick to move between the two when he sees the girl heading over to the fallen human, likely about to beat him down even more (if not straight up kill him). He turns his attention to the simian, his hands raised palms-up to about the height of his chest. “I’m sorry for any offenses this man has done unto you.” He’s so happy he learned this fancy ass rich person speak from Lex. Helps him feel more confident about these things. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to-”

“Get out of my way!”

[Name] swallows. Alright. Potentially saving someone’s life is a tad more difficult than he thought it would be. “I’m sure there’s something I can do to-”

Evidently, this only makes Da Xia far more annoyed, if the way she looks at him like a pathetic soon-to-be smear is any indicator. Or the way she curls her hand into a fist and raises it, her fury aimed at [Name] instead. “Get out of my way, or you’re gonna end up just like him!”

[Name] fumbles over his words, but is soon saved from having to talk his way out of this situation (which he was becoming increasingly sure would have failed) when he sees a larger, black-furred hand grab the raised arm by the wrist.

With the same level of disinterest on his face as when he arrived, Macaque keeps his daughter’s arm in place, not even looking at the scene taking place. He just sighs. “Leave them alone. You should know better than to indulge in these childish antics by now.”

“But he-!”

“You let your temper get the best of you. If you stay here, I’ll make you apologize.”

Da Xia looks absolutely appalled by the mere concept of apologizing to some lower life-form. When Macaque lets go of her wrist, she just scowls and storms off, cursing on her way out of the party. [Name] is sure if she wasn’t so furry, she’d be absolutely red in the face, though he’s not sure whether it’d be from embarrassment or rage.

Probably both.

[Name] takes that opportunity to check on the victim, helping him up. “Are you alright?”

“I believe I am… Terribly sore, so I’ll be heading on home.” That, and he’s currently drenched in food and drink. “Thank you for that. I won’t forget it. I’m indebted to you.”

The excessive praise makes [Name] flush. “Oh, no, really, anyone would have-”

“No, no. You saved my life. Thank you.”

… Well. [Name] believes that. The man struggles to even stand on his own right now, his legs weak and shaky. It takes him a few more moments before [Name] can let go of him, watching him meet up with his fretting wife before they leave the party together.

Reassured by the nobleman not being seriously injured, [Name] prepares to head back into the party, but is stopped by Macaque approaching him. The human tenses, eyes darting everywhere but the monkey in his uncertainty. Does he owe him? Is he indebted?

Before he can get anything out, the simian speaks first. “I apologize for Da Xia’s behavior tonight. She is still quite young. You know how kids are. Impulsive little things.”

That brings [Name]’s eyes up to his face. Relief floods his body when he realizes it’s just an apology. “Ah, yeah, haha…” In his struggle to remain cool under the circumstances, he slips up from his more formal speech, and this causes a whole new wave of dread to run through him when the simian meets his gaze.

Oh fuck, he totally knows I’m a fraud. He’s going to take back the formalities. What if he kills me for even deining to speak to him when I’m clearly not of anywhere near close to the same social standing?

However, Macaque’s eyes widen with… recognition? [Name] is only somewhat certain it’s that emotion when the monkey gasps, but he can’t be sure why. He’s never met him before, even if his own heart rings with that persistent, nagging feeling that tells him otherwise. Maybe it’s something else. He could be projecting his own feelings onto the demon.

Seeing as how Macaque doesn’t respond, [Name] clears his throat, giving a polite incline of his head before prodding the man. “Your Lordship, Liu’er Mihou?”

The dark-furred monkey blinks, then… smiles? It’s such a tender expression that it catches [Name] off-guard. He even thinks he sees wetness in those purple eyes of his, but Macaque dips his head too quickly for [Name] to confirm this. And without another word, he rejoins Wukong. They’re too far away for [Name] to hear the conversation.

Somewhat baffled by the encounter, [Name] decides it’s just amazing for him to get away with all of his extremities intact. He’s breathing and in no pain, so that’s a total win, as far as he’s concerned. And Sun Wukong even appears delighted by whatever the Six-Eared Macaque is telling him, given the wide grin on his face and the arch in his tail, so that’s a sign of no ill will coming their way (hopefully).

All was resolved peacefully. Maybe their relationship with the magnanimous protectors of the city has even gotten better? This could lead to so much development in the future. It might make many things easier.

Just as [Name] starts to think about how to use this potential boon to their advantage, Lex appears, wrapping [Name] in his arms and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. When the blonde pulls back, his eyes are full of concern. He cups [Name]’s cheek in a broad hand, his gaze searching. “You’re okay, love?”

The worry makes [Name]’s heart melt. He smiles, leaning into his husband’s touch. “I am. It went well.” He glances over to where he last saw the simians, thinking of all the good news to tell his husband about what he witnessed. However, the sight he’s greeted with sends a jolt of pure fear straight into his heart.

Wukong had started heading over to them, but his earlier grin was gone from his face, replaced by a scowl directed straight at [Name] and his husband. Those orange eyes were full of absolute bloodlust.

(Story re-written by @nocturneeros)

(AU inspired by @semisolidmind and @hcdragonwrites (hope you get back to writing soon, really loved your stories.))

[justheretoposttrash]

day 9 in endhawks hell (actually over a year in endhawks hell but moving on):

not one to spread apocryphal info on the internet but my very unverified source (my friend) told me that losing a right arm in anime/japanese media symbolizes shame, disgrace, some other kinda downfall, or the need to redeem oneself. to be clear i have not found an actual source on this, but it definitely would explain a LOT (tears of the kingdom, aot, fma, hunter x hunter, so many more)

and big surprise, that all 100% tracks with endeavor's loss of his arm. if we were to assume all the symbolism is true and accurately described by me (which i encourage not to assume outside of this post), it's very interesting that endeavor loses it in the afo fight protecting hawks rather than in his fight with touya.

it should be noted that him losing his temper is what indirectly places hawks (and tokoyami and jiro) in danger, bc his rage at afo opened him up to injury and being absent from part of the fight in the first place. i also appreciate that, when hawks shouts at endeavor to "keep a cool head" in the face of afo's psychological warfare and endeavor fails to do so, hawks very clearly doesn't view this as weakness, but as a natural human reaction and is mainly worried about him--whereas endeavor is furious with himself right after the fact.

he says it outright in the text--that from the beginning, the whole tragedy, even his rage at afo leading to his current injury, is all only made possible because of the wounds he inflicted on his family in the first place. it's also notable that endeavor's inability to manage his anger, rather than having anger at all, was a core aspect of his abusive outbursts in the past, and his initial fall to afo in this fight. his temper continues to be a source of problems for himself and those around him.

and while endeavor made an overt mistake, hawks made a covert one: it is confronting his own emotions, rather than shutting them away (making a "clean break", as it were), that allows endeavor to re-enter the fight in full.

in result, endeavor's struggles with his own shame create an opportunity for hawks to be killed, but in accepting his shame, he saves him. (aside: the playful echo of "keep a cool head" in the above panel is so ridiculous. non-judgmental, trusting, teasing--knowing, yet forgiving/appreciative--like hawks and his intern hadn't just nearly died, lmao. arms were lost but there's always time to squeeze in a wisecrack)

this also fits well with hawks initially thinking that it's because endeavor is in an emotionally vulnerable place that he couldn't fight touya without losing (read: dying).

hawks initially felt certain that endeavor needed his support and protection because the man wasn't shutting his emotions away--but it's after endeavor is able to resurge back with his emotionality intact that hawks reverses his decision and is the one encouraging him to be the one to confront touya. and with full confidence! (the, uh, touya fight was a hair's breadth from ~not going well~, but let's not tell hawks that right now lol)

to slightly shift back to this "clean break" moment: by contrasting himself against endeavor, who is trying to do better = still vulnerable to the past = has emotions that the enemy can exploit, hawks implies that he doesn't see himself as being the same on *any* of those counts, which is a sad thing to realize. shutting off his heart? not being a better person than he was before? this implication would have benefitted from more intentional and clear closure in the manga (i think the single tiny frame of hawks talking with tokoyami in 430 is just *fine*, ish), but at any rate, endeavor certainly sets a solid example of a person learning to open themself up to these sorts of things, and those lessons are ones hawks could very much use.

anyway, in short, thematically/symbolically/what-have-you, endeavor's work towards atoning for his family, taking more emotional accountability, and accepting emotions rather than rejecting them is connected to inspiring hawks, doing right by him, and even saving him a second time.

[ladydisharmony]

Another snippet from my bod re-imagine. chapter one will be finished SOON. This snippet is actually planned to be part of chapter 3 but I am excited to share it. this will be the final snippet until the chapter this snippet is from is published, at the very least.

What could he do to prove he was serious in his want to co-exist with pony-kind? He was only half serious. He wanted to see what he could get away with while in their good graces-as good as their graces for him could be. He just needed to show them he was as willing as his words were. He thought for a moment. How do two kingdoms show their alliance to each other? he supposed trade could work, but there was nothing they could give him that he couldn’t give himself. It would be a little uneven in who is benefitting from the barter, though he supposed he could consider it-oh.

“How about a marriage of alliance?”

It was very old fashioned, especially in Equestrian terms, but it may be the key he needs to achieve his toleration among the land. He observed the group of wide eyes and waited a few beats. Their shock was certainly worth the question, and he could only assume they were waiting for him to tease them for thinking he was serious. He only stared back.

Twilight looked to her friends on either side of her, trying to find the words to respond. She cleared her throat in the uncomfortable silence. “W-well, I suppose you being married to one of our own would show great trust. But that would be just as great a cost for us. How could we be sure you won’t subject-”

“Oh please, sparkle, I’m a sadist in the most humorous sense. I only get my kicks out of torturing others when they deserve it. if the rest of my words mean nothing to you I promise I’d only ever subject my spouse to a small dose of psychological torture, you have my word on that.” He wanted to say that he probably wouldn’t pay them any mind at all, but that didn’t sound like he was making an effort. he continued, “There is a lot of misunderstanding between your subjects and I, a lot of…tension.” It was his turn to clear his throat. “It’s tiring, even for me. One can only take so much of the same conflict. You know me, I love all different kinds! I know you’d be surprised to hear, but being incased in stone leads to a lot of thinking; that incident last year was just me getting my jitters out. I was so wound up in there it was only a matter of time before I exploded,” at his words he burst, pieces of himself scattering across the ballroom floor, before he reconstructed himself. “I’ve taken the time to collect myself and I’m ready to begin a new chapter with pony-kind. Besides, I’ve always seen myself as the anti-hero. Why not help you all out to spite my own enemies?”

“There it is,” Rainbow Dash called out.

“I’ll have you know that there really are no hard feelings on my end. Not towards the six of you, anyways. If you think I dislike you, you haven’t seen what I’ve done to those I despise. It’s nobody you’ve gone head to head with yet, anyways. Wouldn’t it be better to have me in your corner if something like that were to arise?”

There was silence, and Twilight couldn’t decide if he was helping or hurting his case. He didn’t not have a point. It would be very helpful to have an alliance with him, regardless of his reasoning. But a marriage? The only ‘subject’ in his kingdom is him. would it be right to ask the citizens of Equestria if anyone would like to marry the hopefully ex-terrorist as a form of allyship? The idea alone was completely insane.

“If ya hate em’ so much, why are they still around to pounce on us, whoever it is yer talkin’ about.” Applejack spoke up with a good question. Discord gave a Discord answer.

“It’s more fun this way.”

It was silent again. It seemed nobody knew what to say. How could they? This wasn’t exactly what anyone was expecting with Discord showing up after so long, unannounced. How annoyingly unpredictable of him; How extraordinarily in character.

[shallowseeker]

Re: the latest string of anons, I want to capture this thought before it flees, but it's not wholly formed yet. I'll try to tread carefully, and with gentleness.

Firstly, I want to invite you to grab onto this line from The Rupture:

CAS: "You used to give me the benefit of the doubt. Now, you can barely look at me."

You can take this lovely line and apply it as a challenge to the entirety of season 15, I think.

The thing with season 15 is that it challenges Dean in a way he hasn't quite been before: it's a full-on, nihilistic, Michael-coded existential crisis.

Cas has had psychological breakdowns like this on multiple occasions. So has Sam.

Throughout the series, Dean is wrong a lot, but this time, he's wrong about more things than usual, even when he's (like Cas with Raphael, and like Sam with many villains) still "a little bit right."

Everyone's a little bit wrong, a little bit right, and that's the beauty of it.

But the consequences are unfairly heavier than usual, and that chafes for Dean.

It chafes for his fans, too.

///

In season 15, at first Dean can't even say Jack's name. He sidesteps it, using coded communication, like his reference to "Bel" in 15x09 The Trap. (That's about Jack, y'all. If you tuly think he's talking about Bel in that scene, then you haven't been paying attention to Dean's character's values OR his communication style.)

I think at a lot of its core, Season 15 is asking you what happens when you're not spoon-fed a character's reactions. Do you look at their history and take the least charitable assumption, or do you work from what you know of that character's loves/morals/values and root for them to try and work through it?

Throughout the series, we see Dean cry and apologize more than most characters. For example, we are explicitly shown Dean's regret (on-screen!) for beating Cas in season 10, and so we know he feels guilty. On the flipside, we are NOT explicitly shown Cas's regrets for his beating on Dean in either seasons 5 or season 8.

But we give Cas the benefit of the doubt.

Why?

Well, truthfully, it's because Cas is a character that commands our respect, and this authority/respect extends to giving him dignity in a way some other characters aren't afforded. But mostly, it's because we trust in what we know of Cas. Again, it's those loves/morals/values that inform how we parse Cas's mistakes.

///

So, back to season 15. What are we going to do here?

Sam chooses grace. Will the audience choose it, too?

Crucially, Sam is a character who has had nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown. He sees what is happening with Dean, he understands Chuck's pressures, and he approaches Dean with (imperfect) grace.

So does Cas, for that matter, which makes a great deal of sense here. Cas is the character who has undergone the most severe existential crises regarding Chuck and Heaven. "Getting out of the game doesn't change the game," Cas says. He's grown tremendous, somewhat terrifying resilience as far as this is concerned.

But anyway. Dean's family sees that he's struggling and tries to help him through this because they too have gone through so many complicated meltdowns.

///

I think season 15 is tough, too, because it challenges you not to be spoon-fed all of Dean's grief and reactions.

Think back to Dean breaking down in the forest clearing after Mary died. Do you REALLY think there was none of that for Jack--for Rowena--for Jack's body being eradicated and ruining the hope of getting him back--for Cas leaving--for Amara--for the Jack rib-bomb?

I think to say yes would be dishonest. Personally, I think there's a well-argued case that Dean grieves almost everyone.

///

Season 15 is also tough because it invites to look upon some of Sam's worst moments (*cough* season 8) with renewed grace.

It even challenges you to frame the villains' struggles (John, Lucifer, and whoever the Hell else) in a stronger shade of gray.

///

Anon, I hope you find this soothing somewhat. :-)

Basically, the TLDR; is that we give our loved ones the benefit of the doubt because we've grown to know and trust their hearts over time, even when they're in the wrong.

-love from shal

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 3: breathe

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 3: breathe

In this bit, I get explicit about some of the stuff implied by Ire's behaviour, last chapter. Which I have mixed feelings about now, because it reads very blunt and tell-not-show and whatever, but... oh, well. At other times I'm maybe not obvious enough with character's internal processes, and the reader should at least understand the terms Ire uses for his own issues. This is all stuff Ire is self-aware about and he's currently reflecting on it, so fine, let's set out Iriel's psychological stall.

only distantly registering the wet ground soaking through his pants.

Wait, no, let's talk about his pants, because alexgaretti dragged me about this later, and I deserve it - why did I convert everything else about the narration into my native British English spellings, but then keep saying "pants" instead of "trousers"? I DON'T KNOW, OKAY, IT JUST FELT WRONG. Pants are how leg-things are labelled in the Morrowind game! Common pants, extravagant pants, it's all pants! People wear pants, that's just how it is. I felt weird enough spelling "bonemould" with a U, leave me alone.

Imprisonment, he knew, was part of it. Of course it had affected him, he had been foolish to expect otherwise. Ridiculous to think he could simply pick up his life where he had left off.

There are obvious reasons why Bethesda games never do anything further with their habitual gambit of starting your character as a prisoner - the player should get to decide who their character is, and how they react! The game isn't going to force you to consider that a character who has been in jail for any length of time (especially delicate, cruelly-framed prisoner characters) may have been wildly traumatised by this experience, and may have difficulty adjusting to being suddenly given their freedom.

Fanfic is the trauma-processing place, though, so naturally we all love having carte blanche to let our characters be really messed up by it.

He offended someone by staring at them? Why? How many seconds were you allowed to look at someone? Wait, not looking at them could be rude too? How could anyone figure out this stuff? If they couldn’t even explain to him how to do it right, why tell him he was doing it wrong?

This chapter is where people started asking me if Iriel has autism. Which I still don't have a concrete answer for! Partly because I'm not sure a fictional character benefits from that kind of word-of-god authorial specificity, when you could just let readers decide, and relate to him however they want to. But also because if Ire's autistic, then probably I'm autistic, and it's not like I'm against the concept, but I really don't know! When I was writing HTDC, I labelled a lot of my behaviours as social anxiety, because they primarily manifested when I was under stress. It blew my mind slightly when someone said to me, "what if it's just that being under stress removes your ability to mask?". I'm still thinking about that one, to be honest, but I'll spare you my non-conclusions, here.

Then he hit adolescence, and it turned out that everything prior had just been the warm-up act for being a queer teenager completely unequipped to conceal this fact from his incomprehending parents and conservative town.

While I'm still vaguely irritated by this chapter, at least we didn't get all this backstory as actual written chapters, right? Gotta start in media res. Gotta skip to the bits that matter for this story. 

Also, we don't need to have the boring argument about whether it's more radical/regressive to write fantasy queer utopias, or to recreate systems of oppression in fantasy worlds, right? Of course people can do either, do both, do whatever suits their purpose and is interesting.

I've read some amazing fic* set in Summerset, where homosexuality was an accepted and valued part of society. That approach is totally valid! It just didn't fit what I wanted to do, here, so my headcanons are different.

Based on what I'd inferred about Altmer values (I don't know ESO, don't talk to me about ESO), homophobia as a default in that society does seem very plausible to me. Summerset is a culture where bloodlines (and so heterosexual procreative pairings) are obsessively cultivated. Your blood is who you are, it’s fixed and unalterable, and if you’re acting (or fucking) against the overall societal interest, there must be something wrong with you and your blood.

According to a first-era emissary to the Altmer isles: "Breeding outside the pure line is a terrible, unthinkable crime, and taken as prima facia evidence of the tainted blood of the individual in question- if they were, they wouldn't have the impulse to do it. Exile to the mainland is regarded as equivalent to a death sentence, since there is no purpose in living outside their ideal society."

Now, we have to take this with a heavy pinch of salt. He goes on to write: "They have no real names of their own, only combinations of numbers that, when spoken aloud, sound to human ears as such. They feel no real tenderness for one another and have no concept of compassion." So, as with any TES text: biased source. But I think it's reasonable to assume that the Altmer do care a lot about purity of bloodlines, since this theme reoccurs elsewhere.

* Exhibit A: In Pedo Impedimenta, which is hands-down the best Summerset fic around, and in terms of wildly imaginative headcanons, one of the best TES fics, full stop. It's... a lot. It's unfinished, but you should read it anyway.

He had a plan: the Crystal Tower. Get there, he told himself, and everything will be all right. And then he did… and it wasn’t.

The fic I linked above, In Pedo Impedimenta, is set in the 4th era, and has a scene in which an Imperial tries to make a politely regretful remark about the tragic destruction of the Crystal Tower during the Oblivion Crisis. He is blindsided by how even the slightest mention sucks the air out of the room, sending half the Altmer into tearful, traumatised paroxysms of shock, while others barely restrain themselves from murdering him. The level of social faux pas is off the charts, basically. Altmer grief for the Tower is fathomless, because the Crystal Tower represented the Altmer people, was their heart, soul, ancestral memory, you name it. A symbol of Altmeri perfection.

Iriel revered the Tower from childhood, grew up struggling to prove himself worthy. Getting accepted there was a validation of his entire being, evidence that whatever anyone else thought, he was capable of touching, representing and embodying that perfection. Getting expelled, therefore, was equally personal.

Intellectually, Iriel knows there were petty, down-to-earth reasons for his expulsion, but that sort of symbolism is hard to shake.

Speaking of symbolism, according to ESO, the Crystal Tower looks like this. Yes, I know. I hate it, I had not seen this when I wrote about it, and I honestly refuse to accept it. I wanted it to be a symbol of Iriel's pure desire for knowledge and intellectual advancement, but SOME PEOPLE want to make everything he does into a sex joke. I hate it, and I don't care that it's got a nice safe flared base.

Invisibility potions require diamonds - too expensive to make a habit of. Ire began to practice invisibility cantrips obsessively. [...] Gradually, he discovered that more subtle and specialised effects were possible with illusion, allowing him to adjust his “dosage” according to the situation.

Illusion magic! Already, it's being framed as a sort of drug, with dosages and expensive dependency. Iriel makes this framing himself, and later mutters sarcastically about his addictive personality. But what is he trying to medicate away? Short answer: himself. Physically or mentally can vary. I told people from the start: the title of the fic was never metaphorical.

Depending on the alchemical properties of the bog, corpses could either remain perfectly preserved indefinitely, or decompose to skeletons in mere hours. He suspected that he was not the former.

Iriel has a terrible phobia of skeletons and bones, though I don't think I knew that yet, when I wrote this line. But this is the crux of it: bones are what's left, when everything else has been taken away, all the soft, pretty, fleshy nonsense that buffers our inmost selves from the outside world. Bones have nowhere to hide. And, to Iriel at least, they are fucking horrid.

But Iriel, we could say, what's the alternative? That corpses don't decompose? That dead people stay the same forever, and never really leave? Isn't that differently horrid? I got really obsessed with this theme, later, something Morrowind's burial customs makes easy.

Sinilakki drew Iriel being all translucent in the swamp.

Perhaps I shouldn't have said Iriel had a psychological stall. Stalls don't move, and the entire point of a character-driven narrative is to move a character, right? How are we moving them? On rails, like a train? Self-driven, or carried passenger? That has to change, too, right?

Around half-way through writing HTDC, I made a notes document, trying to clarify to myself what kind of story I was trying to tell. I did it by defining the sort of story I wasn't trying to tell, and I'm just gonna copy-paste it all here, stream-of-consciousness non-capitalisation and all:

not a coming of age story

ire knows who he is (that's kinda the problem), he's an adult now, whatever the fuck that means.

it's about what happens next, how he can fit this adult self of his into the world (can he? does he want to? what kind of world? there are many.) what does it mean to be normal, does he want that? why/why not?

if he fits in, what will that cost him? if he walks away from everything, what will that cost him? what does he value most? could he still change? should he? what would that cost? are these cost estimates of his accurate?? how is even mental accounting???

how mutable is his identity, his self-image, the image he projects? which one is real, are any of them real? is he a trick of the light, reflecting false images with nothing behind it at all? smoke and mirrors.

not a coming out story

ire's out to his family (he's never had much choice about it) and he's past all that terrified self-realisation, first love/lust bit, past the initial horror of it. the worst already happened, in terms of his family and his old life, it's dead and gone, and he survived. and he's bored now. bored and bitter. because it ought to get easier, and it doesn't. "it gets better" got him through his teens. but he's still waiting, and nothing fucking changes, or rather, it got worse. where is his community? is that a thing? and while plenty of this is beyond his control, part of it is internal. Ire maintains, on a logical, rational, principled level, that there's nothing wrong with his sexuality, and that what happened wasn't his fault, that he was badly treated, that he deserves the same right to love and be happy as anyone. HOWEVER. it's not as simple as that. he's been deeply psychologically damaged by homophobia, it has claws in his self esteem that he can't seem to shift. he worries he can't maintain a healthy relationship because of it. worries he can't have a healthy relationship with himself.

not a romance

it's not about iriel falling in love with someone truly, madly, deeply, permanently happy ever after. it's certainly not about a relationship fixing his problems, if anything it gives him more.

it is about relationships, in particular his changing relationship with julan, and the ways it makes him examine himself and how he interacts, and what he wants from another person. What he did wrong in the past, and what he needs to stop blaming himself for. And what his partners need from him, and how he can learn to meet those needs, should he choose to do so. about that negotiation. about failing at it, about screwing things up really badly, on both sides, and where that ends up. about trying to fix things. about what you can/should forgive, what you can't, and what forgiveness means. about recognising when to hold on to someone and when to let go.

what is preventing iriel from building healthy relationships? from feeling, expressing and receiving love? how does this change? what kinds of relationships/people are good for him?

not a tragedy

ire's been through enough shit, and doesn't really believe happiness is likely. this is not about proving him right. it's not about giving him a happy ending on a plate either, his is not a journey of one step, and this story is limited in scope. but it's about managing loss & moving forward.

ok so what is it?

it is about survival and growth. how ire is paralysed by his trauma, and resists change, and the ways he struggles to get past this. to take control of himself & be more than a product of his past & his conditions. to make choices, not be swept along/reacting. to find ways of being in the world and engaging with it.

its about ire's coping mechanisms. what they are, why he has them, how they help him, how some of them damage or restrict him. whether he needs them, or can replace them, reconfigure them, drop them entirely. the things you do to survive are not the things you do to get free. how can ire move from survival to getting free?

it's about surviving, and then about surviving/outgrowing the person you had to become in order to survive.

All aboard, guarfuckers! We've got 197 miles of bad road!

next: 4: falling previous: 2: labels

[kitkatt0430]

Thoughts on Passengers (2016)? I personally loved it. Chris Pratt is problematic though.

I think I'd have liked it better if Aurora hadn't forgiven Jim. I get why she did - she accepted that she was stuck with this guy and had to make the best of it. On some level she did a cost benefit analysis for what her future was going to look like and decided that it'd suck less if she let go of her rightful anger and resentment towards him and made the best of things.

Considering who she was at the start of the film was the sort of person who abandoned her life and her loved ones for a year of colony experience and a novel that wouldn't be written for over 400 years, I do see where Aurora ends the movie as character growth. She's learned to live her life as it is instead of abandoning what she has for what might be.

Jim, though... it's hard to see him sympathetically to be honest. There's a lot of things he could have done differently and should have done differently before resorting to waking up a fellow passenger for company. And it's hard not to view his decision to wake up Aurora as particularly creepy given that he basically forms something of a para-social relationship with her before deciding to wake her up in hopes that they'd form a real relationship. He very much fits the 'predatory nice guy' trope that, having encountered enough 'nice guys' who stopped being interested in being my friend when they realized that a romantic relationship 'upgrade' was never gonna be on the table... I find that kind of character hard to enjoy.

That said, I do think he genuinely came to like Aurora for herself and not for the idea of her he built up in his head before waking her. And the situation he was in at the start of movie was genuinely unfair to him so I can understand why he made a bad decision out of desperation from his isolation - there is a reason solitary confinement is legally considered a form of psychological torture. So I don't hate that she forgives him or anything like that. I'd have just found it more interesting personally if she hadn't forgiven him.

Honestly, I do think it's well acted. It fits well into both of the main actor's wheelhouses. They're both good with science fiction plots, they had better onscreen chemistry than I expected, and the overall plot falling out the way it did made a great deal of sense to me. Most of the plot holes I've seen people complain about are down to the same kind of human hubris that led to real world events like the sinking of the Titanic and programming/mechanical errors from a very real world tendency to push code and hardware into production before they've been fully tested.

I've only watched the movie once back when it first came out on dvd (I think I rented it? or someone rented it anyway, might have watched it with my mom for a girl's day) so I don't remember it super strongly and I did wind up refreshing my memory by looking up a plot recap. I do remember that I did overall enjoy it - I'd certainly watch it again (though it's low on the re-watch priority list). But I think that's in part because it pings my love of science fiction and my enjoyment of certain flavors of psychological horror (I'd have probably enjoyed it more if it played more deliberately into that particular interpretation of the story) than because I found it to be a good romance movie. In fairness, I'm aromantic and so a lot of romance tropes are unrelatable to me; if I'm going to enjoy those tropes then I need them to hit differently than a lot of professional romance writers (of books or film) write them.

I do remember it having trailers that pushed the 'both of them woke up accidentally' angle which made me super not interested in watching it in theaters. The actual plot line turned out to be a whole lot more interesting and enjoyable for having Aurora's waking not being an accident. And Jim's arguably not being accidental either, but a case of programming errors in the ship's AI. It's one I'd likely recommend if asked and would enjoy re-watching with a friend.

As for Chris Pratt (he who lives up to his last name), he's definitely played into why I haven't re-watched the movie since what was probably 2017 (pre-pandemic years melting together effect). I've kind of reached the point where when a new movie is announced that I'd usually want to watch, him being in it is almost guaranteed to immediately kill that interest (such as the Mario movie). Which has had the unfortunate knock on effect of making me less likely to rewatch movies I have previously watched and really do enjoy... but have him in it.

[super-paper]

Manga spoilers!

I wanna give the benefit of the doubt to hori bc i know this isn't the last chapter and he could always continue and mend stuff in upcoming chapters. With that said, this chapter does feel rushed and off. And i'm not talking about action wise as most fans on twt think, but i'm refering to the conclusion(?) of shigarakis character arc. Regarding the whole afo/yoichi talk, hori could get away with it a bit, but as for shigaraki.... that's another conversation. There were moments in this chapter that i loved, i really liked izuku understanding of afo deep down, and the little ,although rushed, talk between the brothers. I loved that scene of the ofa users (minus toshinori i think, why????? He deserved to be there lol) and shigaraki punching afo, i love the idea of shigaraki also being a part of that and i find that panel of his and izukus fists connected beautiful in all ways. But then at the same time it's so rushed! I heard some fans think izukus character got ruined by ending the series quirkless, (....?.....) but what bothers me is actually izukus lack of reaction. It's valid and understandable for izuku to not forgive and be upset at shigaraki, but for the same kid that was so set in saving that crying boy for multiple arcs and through this one, and all the compassion izuku felt for tenko, for izuku to not react shigaraki crumbling into dust and disappearing feels so weird and out of character for him. Can one even count that as him saving that crying little boy?? Now, i do expect hori to bring back tomura/tenko somehow, but if not.... well then that's disappointing and i have to wonder what happened with his character arc??

Like, I'm really trying to be optimistic but 😭

Like you said it was extremely rushed and jammed what should have been 2-3 chapters worth of content into a single chapter-- it makes everything seem unfocused and flat. Like, whatever happened between Tenko and Nana getting offscreened completely neutered the emotional impact and "triumph" of Tenko's "return". AFO getting psychologically dressed down by Izuku, confronted by Yoichi and the vestiges + Tenko, and ultimately "exorcised" deserved its own focus chapter rather than being forced to share breathing room with the (equally gimped) exits of two other characters. Tenko and AFO's relationship gets zero focus/introspection-- Instead we have Tenko literally getting lumped in with the rest of the vestiges instead of getting any sort of unique dialog/interaction with AFO even though his dynamic with AFO (and their melding/untangling from one another) has been a MAJOR part of the series. Honestly, if I think about Tenko/Tomura and his treatment any more I'll probably make myself sick-- other people have already said enough on why this would be a terrible ending for him/MHA as a whole if it sticks.

It's just, such an incomprehensibly bad and cowardly chapter lmao.

(heavy criticism re: Izuku's writing under the read more)

I think my main issue is that even if it is a big fakeout, there's just.... no salvaging Izuku's character for me after this chapter. His entire arc and what was supposed to distinguish him from other heroes hinged on this. Like, you can't have your "intrinsically compassionate sees-the-heart-in-everyone" MC smash through the dying remains of a character who is literally begging for Tenko's life and expect ppl to still root for him??? Shiragiri sacrifices himself to plead on Tenko's behalf and remind everyone there that Tenko is a human who has people waiting for him-- but tonally, him getting utterly steamrolled still gets treated like a hype/heroic moment by Bkg's inexplicable arrival on the scene. It's incomprehensibly tone deaf and makes Izuku's almost complete nonreaction to pretty much everything that has happened to both Tenko and himself stand out all the worse.

As a Izuku fan it boggles my mind that other Izuku fans seem to think this was a good conclusion to his character arc. Like. There's literally no way to backtrack or put any kind of positive spin on how Izuku behaved during this fight evn if Tenko does survive, and it kills me. There's no way to spin it that doesn't boil down to Izuku thinking that Tenko was an acceptable loss if it meant erasing AFO from the world.

There was not even a smidge of internal conflict or hesitation or even a single thought spared for Tenko. Zero introspection from Izuku and zero grappling with the weight of the life he's about to take (because from his perspective, even if Tenko *does* miraculously survive, Izuku had no way of knowing he would and still made the decision to whale away on his body as it crumbled!). Like. Zero reflection on the reveal that Tenko was manipulated from birth, zero attempt to reach him or even speak to him again to see if he was still "in there." Zero attempt to minimize the damage to Tenko's body, zero attempt to engage w/ the sole other character invested in trying to save him (💀💀💀) Zero communication with his fellow heroes about Tenko's situation and his desire to save him so THEY could all make an informed choice, zero hesitation in repeatedly whaling away at Tenko's dying body, zero attempt to "go beyond" and change the ending/future. like. Everything abt Izuku's writing in this chapter is utterly ghoulish.

But hey, Izuku's final punch made the rain stop or whatever. Ugh. 🙄