#Praising only for being strong erases the emotions the other person is feeling

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[mxchowind]

So, sleep well

IJSFJDSG HI THIS IS REQUESTED BY ANON SO I DELIVER THIS 1K WORD(S)??? TO YOU RIGHT NOW FRESH AND HOT. also any suggestions if i hit 100 followers? *insert eye emoji* ALSO TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT AND KEEP THE REQUESTS COMING I’D LOVE TO WRITE FOR YOU GUYS!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING ANON

edit: bro i made so much typos i am cryi g

warning: lowkey angst lmao with xiao background reveal

pairing: xiao x reader

He remembers. 

He remembers vividly, the bloodshed screams of those people, the terror on their faces, and how they turn back to the soil of Liyue with grief. 

Xiao, no, Alatus remembers, the pain that is more than what a wound could cause, but the agony that strangled him, to his very last breath. It struck more than arrows do, and it broke him into pieces. 

Of course, he has forgotten how to rest, someone has to watch over Liyue, and that would always be him. To watch those people’s suffering, and cannot do a thing about it. He is always late, and when he arrives, it is naught but a show of death.

Xiao hates it.

The voices draining in his head, the wounds that would never heal, the war he still fights with himself. 

He’s exhausted.

So when his eyelids flutter open from such a nightmare of old memories, panic hits him. Where is he? Is he finally, going to lose his most important person- to lose you? The blood on his hands cannot be washed away, because he’s taken more lives than known, under the control of this one archon. He doesn’t deserve you, in any ways. He knows, Xiao knows, he is nothing but a monster,  a weapon, a demon, a-

‘‘Xiao?’’

Oh.

It is then he realises that he’s kneeling on the top ground of Wangshu Inn, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. Was it really that bad of a nightmare? But while his train of thoughts progresses you hurriedly approach him, kneeling down all the same and his amber eyes- the ones that hold emotions, that hold the entire Liyue, trails to you. 

When you touch him, it feels surreal. Are you even real? He wonders. It hurts his head to think, all over his mess of a form, Xiao struggles to stand up, and desperately wishes to hold on tight to your hand- the very own hand of yours that leaves his cheek in a split second. He thought, for so long, he yearned for your warmth, and he wants to-

‘‘Xiao, are you feeling alright? Is it a fever? Or those memories again?’’

He, honestly, isn’t sure at this point. His head feels light, as if the world around him is ready to blur in shades of royal blue and tints of yellow. To think, such a mighty Yaksha would have days like this. When you stand, his gentle voice trembles as he speak, 

‘‘Don’t go anywhere, not yet.’’

It’s a plea, Xiao can’t shake the pain away, so he resorts back to your heart, back to you, who truly is there always, first and foremost. You bend down, and hold onto his hand, tight. 

‘‘I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry. If you like, tell me about it.’’

In all honesty, Xiao never confided in you about his past- it’s terrible. It’s gruesome, it’s nothing you, someone so innocent, should hear about. He wrestles his own mind, and fails to keep you safe from those demons everytime, in his dreams. No doubt, he used to eat dreams, after all, and he’s finally paying his price.

Not even Rex Lapis could save him.

So he explains. Those blood, those people who died in his vision, the heavy burden he carries, the memories engraved in his mind that cannot be erased, the prayers they recite for him to rescue- 

It’s simply too much. 

It is surprising, and you are at once, glad yet sorrowful that Xiao finally opened up. You have never seen him- this vulnerable. You know he shouldn’t, and doesn’t want to show it to anyone, so he hides. He hides his own thoughts, those dreadful memories that haunt him like the very death of the other Yakshas, everything. 

You didn’t know, of course. You knew nothing because Xiao was so good at hiding. His pretence was so strong, and held his head high as the only remaining Adepti. His pain was more than someone could ever maintain, and to think- 

He endured all of this by himself.

It’s so late in the night, stars glitter and shine upon your figure. When Xiao gazes at you, his breath hitches in his throat. You look like the Moon Goddess. Are you here to finally save him? 

Yes, you are.

‘‘Xiao.. listen to me.’’ You start, eyes sincere with every bit of care laced in. He listens, amber eyes reflecting off the moonlight. He looks ethereal. Too daint that you fear he might just disappear into thin air if you don’t grasp properly. So your lithe hands move onto his, those hands that are sheathed away from the harsh gloves, from the battles he fought bravely. You remove the gloves in a gentle motion, and press a kiss on his hand. It feels so soft, yet the calluses from using his polearm remain. It’s his battle proof, he’s done well. 

‘‘I love you. Every part of you. How you went ever so bravely against enemies both in the dark and the daylight. I love your hands,’’ you stop abruptly, before caressing those hands, ‘‘They are the proof that you exist, that you fought with evil beings to keep Liyue safe. I love your hair,’’ as you seize a strand, his eyes quivering like a scared mortal who is finally all battered, no more of the suffering bottling up inside, ‘‘They are of a unique colour, and it’s engraved in my mind. I love you, I love you so much. No matter what happened in the past, or what will happen in the future, even if no one forgives you, I will. Liyue is, truly blessed to have an Adeptus like you, dedicated to his duties. So please, rest easy. The stars are singing of praises, close your eyes and listen.’’

For the first time, he doesn’t retort back, because your words bring such comfort upon his beaten mind and heart. It works like magic, and in an instant he hears the stars, the words they whisper to him. The same words you used. 

‘‘The moon is guiding your path, so don’t be afraid. You won’t get lost anymore. And what is more? I’m here. Right here, and I won’t leave. Sleep well, my dear.’’

Those words lull him to the ceasing vision, and all of a sudden these thoughts, the memories disappeared into nothingness. The soft wind brushing past his jade-coloured hair, and his eyelids flutter close in a subtle way. Your hand still remains on his ungloved ones, the lenient night whispering its melodies to the skies and beyond, as you press a final kiss on his forehead, where the lilac diamond mark is.

‘‘Goodnight, my hero.’’

#genshin impact xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact oneshot #xiao x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin xiao #tysm for requesting!! #genshin impact #xiao

[haleigh-sloth]

Is it okay to like idea of endeavors atonement but dislike actual thing in manga? Like I love idea of abuser trying to atone and suffering because everyone gives no shit about him because thats what he deserves 👁👄👁. Bt hori clearly wants endeavor to be seen as some broken sad man that tries so hard but noone likes him omg poor endeavor crying emoji uwu owo. Also other bnha characters praise enji for bare minimum??? Like "omg endeavor you care about children" or "omg endeavor you think that abusing mentally ill kid is bad" lmao okay give him a candy every time he does normal human being things what a big boi what a development😩

Hmmm I don’t know that I agree with you about what Hori wants us to see.

I think he wants us to see a dad who has realized his crime and is trying to atone. Now right now—I think it’s being shown to us that Endeavor is atoning the wrong way (see Shouto from chapter 319). Like even though it took a long time to show it, the story showed us that Endeavor is still in the wrong with how he’s doing things.

I think the purpose of the retcon is being misinterpreted. At least to me. It wasn’t to make Endeavor not guilty, because the Todofam chapters very much proved he was guilty. But I think it was to show that he wasn’t just always violent from the beginning, and that he escalated to being violent after some time from the stress of his son’s spiraling health. It’s still bullshit, because we weren’t led to believe that for 99% of the series, but nothing about the Todofam chapters shows us that we’re supposed to feel sorry for him and not think of him as guilty or to blame.

There’s no erasing any of this

And it is absolutely okay to want to see him atone. There’s nothing wrong with that. The author obviously wants to see him atone. Different things are healing for different people. However I will draw the line at wanting to see the abuser atone but not the victim be saved and redeemed. That’s bullshit. To each their own, but I won’t sympathize with favoring the abuser over the victim. But back on topic—

If you don’t like what you’re seeing in the manga that is perfectly okay too. These are just my opinions on the material and what we’re seeing. I’m not 100% thrilled with everything that’s been written with the Todofam plot so far, but I’m not completely disappointed with it either. And some things I hated at first I’ve come to appreciate. Like I thought it was bullshit at first that Enji had a strong bond with one of his children, and that child wanted his attention so much that it killed him. I hated that and hated how much easier it made it on Endeavor, but as this person pointed out—I think it’s actually better that Touya was a daddy’s boy and I think that makes it so much more sad and tragic. That’s something I’ve grown to view differently, and it changed my outlook on the Todofam chapters overall because the emotional abuse that child endured had to have been very agonizing.

But not everybody will feel the same as I do. I can only hope the ending we get is satisfying for everyone who loves Touya and the Todokids. They deserve a happy ending where they all end up together. I will be satisfied as long as Touya is home with his siblings.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha asks #anonymous #todofam #Todoroki touya

[violetlunette]

Originally, I stuck this to a re-blog of another post, but then I decided it would be best to make my own. Below features anti-Bakugou and Bakugou Critical. I’m being polite and hiding it under the ‘keep reading tab.’ As always I try to be fair, but this is based on opinions and the like. I’ll also admit that this is coming from a slightly bias POV. You have been warned and if you choose to continue that’s on you.

There seem to be a lot of reasons people relate to Bakagou. Some people relate to Bakagou being unable to express his emotions properly. Others relate to wanting to be a winner or strong, but never quite reaching their goal. (There are also fanon reasons, but I won’t go into too much detail on those. Everyone has headcanons and theories. These are fine to have so long as you don’t get them confused with canon or attack others who feel differently.)

However, I believe one of the biggest explanations lies within the manipulation of the narrative;

Something that’s not often talked about outside of writing circles is how important “tone” is for stories. The characters move the story, but the narrative controls how they and their actions are perceived by the viewer (YMMV).

At the start of the manga Bakagou’s actions are presented as horrible as they were. Even with the whole class on his side, the story shows that this isn’t right. Bakagou’s attitude is shown as bratty. His attack on Izuku, backing Izuku against a wall, burning his shoulder, destroying his notebook, threatening him not to go to UA just because it threatens the narrative Bakagou’s trying to make, the scene where he tells Izuku to jump off the roof—all of these actions are shown as antagonistic. Not only that, but it displays it in a way that so powerful a lot of people can’t forget it. For whatever reason, personal or otherwise, it STICKS with them. All because the tone does all it can to show these things in that light.

But then all that changed.

For whatever reason, the narrative seemed to switch sides. Throughout 300-200 chapters (depending on your view when it happened) it downplayed Bakagou’s actions. Suddenly they were presented as no big deal and played them for humor (or tried to). Meanwhile, whenever Bakagou felt bad in anyway it hyped up those scenes and showed them as raw as it could to make people sympathize with him.

The story also uses the other characters to manipulate the audience as well. Whenever someone calls Bakagou out on anything he does this person is treated as being in the wrong, or an asshole. As a result, most readers will ignore what they say, however valid they are. Meanwhile, it uses characters the audience does like to praise Bakagou or wave his actions as no big deal, such as All Might, Aizawa, or even Izuku.

After a certain point, the readers aren’t even really allowed to see Bakagou’s effect on Izuku. In the beginning, we see how the bullying hurt Izuku and made him, the victim, feel—or at least we saw the start. Before we can go any deeper though, all the flashbacks changed. Now the flashbacks are on Bakagou’s side and worked to make him sympathetic. Again, they downplayed what Bakagou did to Izuku. (Not to mention other kids. People tend to forget that while Izuku was the main focus of Bakagou’s ire, he attacked and bullied others as well). When those points are focused on they're used to make the readers feel for Bakagou. Not on his actual actions and how they affected others, but on his feelings.

Now the story has Izuku shrug off whatever Bakagou does and reacts the bare minimum to Bakagou’s attitude. This is supposed to be Izuku becoming less intimidated by the other, but I don’t see it that way. I see it as erasing something that was a big part of Izuku and his arc. Acknowledging it though would place King Explosion Murder in a bad light, so readers are no longer allowed to see it.

With all that in mind, it’s not that hard to see why people feel for Bakagou when the story is going out of its way to make people do just that. It uses every means it can to make them feel that way; tone, lighting, characters, etc.

Personally, that’s why I’m more upset with ‘the narrative’ than Bakagou. The characters can do whatever they want, but it’s the narration’s job to show us whether or not it’s right.

As I’ve admitted however this is fairly bias and I’m not an expert. So, take all of this with a pinch of salt as they say.

#anti-bakugou #bakugou critical #bakugou rant #ugh why do I do this? #I get so anxious with long posts #Am I too rambly #did I repeat myself? #Do I make sense? #Did I get my point across? #am I too aggressive or passive? #You all know the gist right #all in all I do stand by the fact the narrative coddles Bakagou #which is a shame because if handled another way his arc could have been Bojack or Zuko level #ah well #keep in mind all this is subjective #bnha #mha #anti bakugou

[yellowbluemoonshine]

Why Kacchako would be bad idea in canon

Thanks for question, anon. Actually, i didnt care bnha ships these much in past. And i didnt understand why people ship Kacchako so i wanted to give a chance to see their point cause it was so popular. I wanted to understand why they like it. And many people write some metas about ‘Kacchaco would be better as canon’ and i thought about it a lot. Sooo i wanna explain why i think kacchaco is bad ship in canon.

‘Bakugou respects Uraraka’

So we all know that Bakugou started to respect Uraraka cause she is strong girl and its true. She is. But point is;

People dont become strong on their own, people who supported us, people who inspired us makes us strong. We can show the true strengh in ourselves, thanks to those people.

Uraraka did her best when he fought with Bakugou but she wouldnt do her best, if she wasnt inspired by Deku who always does his best. You know, at first, Uraraka was kind of girl who doesnt take things seriously, unlike others. She is normal girl who just wanted to make her family happy.

And again, like i said, people dont become strong on their own. Bakugou respects Uraraka cause he realized she is strong but the one who make Uraraka strong isnt Bakugou. So if Uraraka didnt meet with Deku or Uraraka hadnt those people around her, she couldnt show her real strong. And Bakugou wouldnt respect her.

Like; when you need help, this person wont care about you and wont help you but when you got the help you need and show the strengh you always had inside of you, this person will respect you.

Not even need to mention how that fight portrayed.Like, who cares Uraraka is a girl, she is human being and those much violence was unnecessary. This is not respecting someone, this is just simply not caring the person in front of you.

‘Uraraka understand Bakugou’

First, Uraraka doesnt specifcially uınderstand Bakugou, she has high emotionally intelligece. She is good at reading people’s emotions. This is why she realized Tsuyu when she was in pain and tried to help her etc etc.

And there is this scene many things like it;

Uraraka says if we tried to save Bakugou, Bakugou wouldnt like it and its truth but also there is this scene;

Look how Bakugou is happy to be saved. Basically, if they did what Uraraka did, they couldnt have saved Bakugou.

Bakugou’s ego problem

We all know why Bakugou has his inferioty complex cause he was praised for the things he was born, how everyone see him as amazing cause he has strong quirk and naturally talented.

Hero society, even UE also does same thing to bakugou and Uraraka is one of those people. Just like everyone; she thinks he is cool, she trust him. But its a problem should be solved.

In novel. Uraraka talks about how bakugou wouldnt be Bakugou, if he wasnt badmouthing. This is how people treated Bakugou, they justify his wrong actions and Uraraka does the same so how can Uraraka can be the one who changes him, if she thinks and treats Bakugou just like others did.

And another scene from novel. Uraraka says she wants to be like Bakugou cause of his crazy sides but again, Bakugou’s ego, his strengh is not something that should be admired.

This is a flaw that needs to be fixed. It shouldnt justified. This is why i dont think Uraraka is good option cause Bakugou needs to be together with someone who wont justify his wrong actions and someone who wont praise his ego, i think.

Even her development after her fight with bakugou is all about strengh, not personal development so i dont think they would be good match.

Their interaction is based on ‘Deku’

Their character interaction is mainly about Deku. Those two dont interact each other, otherwise.

For example;

- Uraraka vs Bakugou; Bakugou thought Deku helped Uraraka with her plan, he even pointed that her self destructive moves  is really similar to Deku’s. And when Uraraka fought with Deku, she thought how she wants to do her best like Deku.

- Uraraka comes to Bakugou to talk about his relationship with Deku cause she cares about Deku. Bakugou treats everyone like this but Uraraka only comes for Deku.

- She even keep warning him and saying stop bullying Deku.

 etc etc

I am not saying that they never talk about something else but what brings them encounter is Deku. This is one of the main reasons i dont ship them cause their relationship is full of Deku.

For example; Uraraka and Iida.

The reason Uraraka and Iida encounter is because they both interested in Deku but after a while, they have relationship outside of Deku.

Like, Uraraka is worrying about Iida’s match (she doesnt do it in Bakugou’s match), she even find Iida funny and they sometimes interact etc etc. I am not saying that Uraraka x Iida should be canon but at least, they have interaction, outside of Deku.

Bakugou will truly grow when he faced with what he did to Deku, so Deku is important here but at least, Bakugou has interactions, outside of Deku, like with Kirishima, kaminari, Jirou etc.

This is why i dislike this ship because its like cutting Deku from the picture, even though he is always there. Ship itself ignore Deku’s existence and affect on characters.

Uraraka can reach out to Bakugou

I think this is reason people like this ship cause they realized somehow Uraraka’s word affects Bakugou’s actions.

But here is this happens;

1- Every person improve when they face with their flaws and take responsibility for their actions.

We all know Bakugou’s ego problem and mostly, how this problem lead him to bully Deku. This is exaclty why Bakugou truly grow when he faces with what he did to Deku.

The reason Uraraka’s word is affecting him isnt about Uraraka’s being special. Its because its about Deku. And Deku is important here cause he is the one who suffered by Bakugou’s ego the most.

2- How to deal with people who have anger issues?

Simple; take a distance. You dont need to endure anyone’s anger, its not worth it which is something that Uraraka does. She wont endure Bakugou’s anger, like Deku did, Krishima did, Todoroki did.

This is why her words are more effective. Its because she doesnt have relationship with him. If she hanging aroung with Bakugou a lot, he would treat her like the way he treats others. But Uraraka wont be with people who dont see her as an indivual. This is why it lead bakugou to see Uraraka as more invidual, compared to others.

So basicaly it works because she doesnt have relationship with him.

And i think, Bakugou isnt really prepared to have healthy relationship right now. This doesnt mean that Bakugou should never togethet with someone. Its just i dont think it should be Uraraka cause i think Bakugou should be together with someone who will only see him as special too.

Btw; Uraraka is selfless and Bakugou is selfish, yes but Uraraka isnt opposite of Bakugou because Bakugou isnt selfish, he is also abusive. Yeah, Uraraka needs to think about herself more but unfortunately, you dont learn to think about yourself by being selfish people. Its not how it works. Being with selfish people only makes you feel more worthless. This is why they dont match as the way people thought about them.

People want to see Uraraka’s having an arc outside of Deku

Its because author always focus on Uraraka’s feelings for Deku but actually, Uraraka’s flaw isnt her feelings. Her flaw is being selfless.

This girl literally stop eating so her family can work less. Problem isnt Izuocha at all. ıts about how Uraraka put other needs on her own.

I think its a problem with writing. Author could focus on this side of Uraraka more. But instead, it kinda looks like her felings is problem, even though its opposite.

Uraraka’s arc is about both learning to be better hero and learning to being onest with herself. First one is happenning with Deku cause he is the one who inspires her. Second will most likely happen with Toga who is Uraraka’s villain foil.

So basically, we can get interesting interactions with Uraraka and story could deal with her arc better but author doesnt prefer it so erasing Uraraka’s feelings for Deku from story wont actually solve anything.

Izuocha

There is already set up for this ship since the beginning. Also their relationship is so nice.

Uraraka and Deku literally enter UE, thanks to kindness they showed each others. It shows they are meant toe be partners who works together.

I know we didnt get development in their relationship for long time but think about how it started; Both Uraraka and Deku’s development stopped when they stopped interactng with each others.

The problem isnt izuocha. Both Deku and Uraraka have their own flaws and for their character development,they also should be together.

Uraraka should learning to be honest with herself and her inspiration for Deku what makes her better hero at first place.

Deku needs to learn to be invidual, before than being hero. He shouldnt be like Allmight, he should have his own life. Deku always has obsession with heroes and Uraraka is important here cause his relationship with her is also outside of being hero. Also she makes him feel worthy.

Basically, being side with each other helps them to grow as characters too.

Not to mention how many scenes we have too many izuocha scenes in manga.

Here; https://twitter.com/Chaizu2/status/1146634421094645761

And Izuocha’s being parallel with shigatoga too.

For more details;

Here;

https://savetenko.tumblr.com/post/616248203846828032/partners-deku-uraraka-shigaraki-toga

And here;

https://savetenko.tumblr.com/post/620471397600378880/meeting-with-the-boy

So whats the point of detroying this nice relationship?

Why did we watch their feelings then?

If its not gonna resolve or if it was just a little pointless thig, then what was the point?

Its true that ızuocha could’ve been writen better, it still can, it has that potential and its up to author but not making this ship canon wont make things better at all.

A story about abuse

I think this is the main reason i dislike this ship as canon.

Bnha is a story about abuse, abusers, abuse victims. How violence affect and destroy people’s minds.

Also, main characters in bnha is being punished for wrong actions and bakugou is one of those main characters too.

For example;

Deku here says Shouto is forgiving Endeavour cause he is good person.

Look at how story punches Deku’s face, even though Deku didnt even mean to hurt Natsuo and its not even weird since Deku is abuse victim too.

And what Bakugou did to Deku isnt even one little wrong word. And he meant to hurt him. Its a huge big wrong thing what Bakugou did to Deku.

So basically, making kacchako canon is like; Bakugou will get redemption, exchange he will be with the person Deku loves.

In real life, things like this can happen but this is not real life, its a story and in stories, actions have consequences, especially in a story about abuse. Of course, Uraraka is her own character but this is not about her.

Its just the idea; Bakugou will get redemption, exchange he will get love interest and that love interest is someone Deku really close. Abuser’s being with abuse victims’s love interest is terrible idea especially in a story about abuse.

Uraraka wouldnt even interact with Bakugou, if it wasnt for Deku’s sake but somehow, she will like Bakugou because???

Its literally like using Deku as a stepping stone cause if Deku wasnt there, Bakugou and Uraraka wouldnt interact and as long as Deku is there/after meeting with Deku, i dont think Uraraka would love Bakugou.

Its also seem like good girl-bad boy cliche we saw in shoujo mangas. It will turn into love triangle (which is i personally hate) and this story isnt even romance series so no point.

Uraraka s type

You see, Uraraka has certain type (just like Toga and many other people). Point is; we all have. Unconciously we chose the people we love cause there are some behaviours we liked and we fall in love with the people who has those behaviours. This is how love works in real life and bnha’s author actually does the same.

Uraraka is hight emotionally girl, she immediately saw something in Deku. Something that makes her interested in him. She realized this, before than Deku cause she is better at reading people. And that type doesnt fit to Bakugou's character at all. So basically loving Deku is also part of Uraraka’s character.

Basically;

After all of this point, there is no point of making Kacchako canon, it would be terrible idea.

‘If author started with Kacchako, would it be good ship?’

It wouldnt cause again and again, it doesnt fit to their characters. Remember she interact with him cause she cares Deku. Uraraka wouldnt bother to deal with Bakugou and she wouldnt find him inetersting. And bakugou wouldnt chase after a girl who doesnt interested in him.

‘If they meet in completely in different situtions, maybe they would like each others or they would be together?’

I dont think so and actually with this logic, almost any ship can happen, for example; like Uraraka x Shigaraki.

This is all my own opinion. Of course, i dont say anything to people who find them cute together cause even though i dislike it, everyone have different tastes. I just explained why Kacchako is bad idea for canon. All that fandom has idea of Kacchako is completely fanon.

And the reason i dislike is also i am kinda scared it can be canon, even though it doesnt make sense but anything can happen, especialy author is Bakugou fan, i wouldnt be surprised every character fall in love with Bakugou at all. Lol.

People make depth analysis about it and actually those analysis are good, except i think people forget why Kacchako didnt become canon at first place. I dont like that ignorance, especially its ignoring Deku’s existence. I also think its so forced, especially fandom make many edits. Its like people completely ignore canon cases happenning in story and they write a new story and making them love each others. But i think Kacchako doesnt really work in canon at all.

There might be things i forget to write but for now, thats it.

#bnha analysis #anon #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochaco #anti kacchako #anti kacchaco #izuocha #shigaraki x uraraka lol

[octoberheights]

Monday:

She’s started baking again. The other members of the Syndicate drop by sometimes to taste-test her recipes, and she shows them the progress she’s made in the construction of her underground city. They compliment the flower paths outside the city, the bridges and floating lanterns and the gorgeous high ceilings and furnishings within, the little subterranean forest and the waterfall, the decorations and details that make the cavernous space cozy. They see what she’s built and they praise her for it and it is exhilarating. She’s grown stronger day by day with the Syndicate in her corner; they pull her up to stand on equal footing with them, and when she expresses her concerns, they listen.

There are days, however, when she can’t bring herself to bake; on those days the heat of the furnace crawls uncomfortably against her skin and the knife block rattles in the corner with each item she sets down on the countertop. On those days she’ll climb. Buildings, mountains, trees—anything that’ll get her to a height where her lungs strain from lack of oxygen and the ringing in her head eases. She jumps, sometimes. They don’t know she does this. They don’t need to know; she’s strong enough to deal with that herself.

Yesterday was their leader’s birthday, and she’d left the party with leftover cake and cookies and brioche. Today is a good day; maybe she’ll share the cookies with Jack.

—

Tuesday:

He’s called the harbinger, the omen, the angel of death. Crows perform at his bidding and the great, lumbering bears of the north shake the ground as he directs them. He emerges from impossible battles with nary a scratch on his body. People across the earth have speculated that he’s a demon, or contracted with a demon, or one of the acolytes of the Blood God like the Blade. He likes to collect these epithets and rumors; when his crows perch on his shoulder to recount the news of the land or messages from his allies they update him on the tales they tell of the angel. They’re all wrong, in the end. Death herself graced him with her favor long ago to act as her representative on the mortal plane.

She’s been dormant recently; her absences had never affected him so strongly before, but ever since he’s entered this land, he’s felt weaker, more fragile. He watched his son destroy the country he founded with a haze across his vision, and then he killed his own son, and the act of it didn’t register until days later. Months fly by in a blur and the only person who can enforce any sort of focus is the Blade and so that simmering anger became his own and it fed into his own pain. There was something rotting in the land and it killed his son and he felt it his duty to purge it with the same TNT that destroyed his wings. He doesn’t regret it.

Today, he finds some measure of peace in building his training room. His son is back and everything is not-quite-broken and his body still aches.

—

Wednesday:

There are too many variables, too many uncertainties. He’s placed his fingerprints on too many projects and lives, and the guilt of his cooperation and his associations claws at his lungs. Dream, neutrality in the midst of war, Dream and his prison and the damned prison rules, Quackity, Las Nevadas. He doesn’t know what he considers his worst fuck-up: Tommy’s death, the torture he’d permitted in his collaboration with Las Nevadas, his betrayal of Ponk’s love and trust, or his inability to save anyone during the banquet.

The hotel stands as a testament to his failure to protect the youngest resident of the land. He plans detours around that plot whenever he travels between the bank and the prison; the little robot stationed by the hotel tells him the boy doesn’t come by anymore, and he knows automatons don’t feel emotions, but he grieves for it anyway. He sees his valentine walking along the wooden pathways and his heart aches to see the damage he had caused. He checks the prison’s security footage and he tells himself guilt has no place in his heart for what happened. He’s surprised the captain and the god and all the rest of the banquet victims still talk to him. But they do, and it gives him hope. His friends are back and free and even though one of them is trying to start a little scuffle with a god, today he’s having fun throwing weednip around and sliding down the pyramid with his closest friends.

The present’s a gift, and he intends on cherishing this moment.

—

Thursday:

He’s building a pub because Wilbur owes him a pint. He knows that man can’t be completely trusted, not now. Not since he died by his crossbow. But it feels good to be acknowledged as someone worth an apology, someone important. He has been abandoned and pushed aside and pushed into lava pits and into hell all within the span of a few months. No one cared. He hates it, he hates the way he’s been made irrelevant and a shadow of his friends’ stories. Even his plans for revenge had been inconsequential, unfruitful: the boy had lived and his accomplice had left him to brood in his own anger.

He’s held his grudges close to his heart and he’s let them fester and he won’t admit he’s tired of it all. If he lets go, then it all disappears and he’s really, truly dead, and if this is his afterlife, if all he can do is lag after the people he cares for, then it’s a fucking shit deal. So today, he’s continuing his work on the pub because he burned down his own home and because the hotel feels too sterile and empty, because he wants to have a space built with his own two hands where he can speak and someone will finally, finally listen. It’s not quite moving on. He’ll take it anyway.

—

Friday:

She tries to live by the code of kindness and reciprocity; that’s how she lived on the high seas of her youth, or so she suspects, based on the journal she found at the site of the shipwreck. Since the day she joined this land, she has made friends and found love and taken the young residents under her wing and vowed to fight against evil. She gives stacks of items to those who need them and she fixes up the holes in the road and offers therapy on difficult days.

The world isn’t as kind as she is. A country was erased from the map for grudges she still doesn’t understand, and no one will tell her the why discs, of all things, are so important. Two boys would have lost their lives to a monster she housed, had it not been for the money Tommy paid a mercenary for his aid. She mourned the loss of Tommy’s life as she fought to keep the hotel in his name, and when he requested therapy upon his resurrection, she was horrified at the effects of trauma he’d exhibited. The friends she’d tried to pull out of the Egg’s influence celebrated a young boy’s death and killed her son. And now this man has taken her friend’s turtle hostage for no reason she can comprehend.

She’s tired. She’s breaking; they’d presumed her kindness was a weakness and maybe it is. Today, she plans on destroying the red menace on the edge of her son’s land. It’s her turn.

—

Saturday:

He’s not sure how many sandstone blocks he’s carved out of the desert at this point, nor how many quartz chips and gold nuggets he’s pulled out of the Netherworld. The villagers know him by name and chat with him when he stops by to trade for emeralds and other goods. His hands bleed gold ichor from the opened blisters dotting his hands, and burns line the edges of his fingertips. Lately, his whole world is rushing by in colors of beige and yellow, green and white and blue. The color red started it, the scramble to build more and more—and it stopped it too, if only for a little while. Ponk asked him for permission to build on his land, told him it was a gift: a peace offering and an apology and a new beginning. It’s a silly build and it doesn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of his summer home, but it warmed his heart, to see the giant red refrigerator rising up from the top of the sand dunes for the first time. Ponk built it just for him. Quackity told him he was alone, and that he didn’t matter if he didn’t assert his powers like he did in the past, and he was wrong. Ponk stays, loves him for who he is now and not for the destruction he wrought.

He doesn’t know what to do now; his father destroyed the build for some grudge she holds against his friend, and he’s exhausted. He’s tired of being pulled into conflict. A vacation from all the tension occurring on his land would not be unwarranted, at this point—a few days, a week. It sounds relaxing—and he’ll do it, he’ll take a vacation, and he’ll tell Ponk that he’s in charge of the summer home later today. He has some packing to do.

—

Sunday:

He likes to splash around the pools and fountains in Las Nevadas when he has to visit. Sometimes he’ll climb up the needle and lean on the bannisters to feel the fresh air ruffling his hair and he thinks about jumping—the air turns hot and stale and the ground burbles up in orange and red—but his brother pulls him out of it, usually. Otherwise the place is boring. He’s not allowed in the gambling den or the club, so he hovers around the forests away from Las Nevadas when Wilbur and Quackity want to speak alone.

Today is one of those days. It’s fine by him; dealing with the two of them together makes him uncomfortable, with the way they push and pull him to their sides. The cigarette smoke lingering on their breaths remind him of the ravine, the explosions from the first war-second -Logstedshire-doomsday-nukes-prison. He’s escaped, for now. The air of the forest is crisp; he can spot flowers in the meadow ahead and he plucks them to form a careless bouquet. Alliums, lilies-of-the-valley, daisies; poppies and cornflowers and dandelions. He threads them together to form crowns and rings, places one on his head and cradles the rest to his chest to stash at home. It’s been a while since he’s made them; before he moved to this land he’d make them for his brother and his brother’s father, the dogs and cows and sheep around the farm. He feels like a child again and his lips twist at the bittersweetness. He’s found himself a bubble and soon Wilbur will barge his way in to speak of his loyalties and Dream and whatever the fuck he’s stormed up with Quackity, but for now, he’ll pick flowers and make chains and chains and chains that, for once, won’t drag him down.

—

  Monday’s child is fair of face.

Tuesday’s child is full of grace.

Wednesday’s child is full of woe.

Thursday’s child has far to go.

Fridays’ child is loving and giving.

Saturday’s child works hard for a living.

And the child born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe, good and gay.

#again not accurate to the cc's story i just wanted to write something #based on the nursery rhyme but with twists #dsmp #nihachu #philza #awesamdude #jack manifold #captain puffy #foolish gamers #tommyinnit

[fyregrayfong]

Do you have any theories/headcanons as to why Lin is so reserved with her emotions?

And do you have any theories/headcanons for the Kya's want to travel the world rather than settling somewhere?

-Y❤️❤️

I mean Lin is reserved with her emotions because everyone in her life has hurt her in some way shape or form. 

-/-

Kya is half air nomad. It’s in her blood. 

Toph:

Toph has never given her positive affirmation. Lin has been trying so hard to get some sort of praise from her and nothing. Toph never gave her attention and when it came time to have her back (when Suyin caused the scars) Toph basically betrayed her and covered for Suyin and made it all go away. Everything except the scars that will be permanently displayed on her cheeks. 

I want to head canon that maybe...just maybe Toph didn’t realize the extent of the damage Suyin had caused to Lin. Toph could have thought that Lin was over-exaggerating on the markings. Also think for that reason she didn’t let Lin get immediate treatment from a healer which was crucial for healing time and less scaring to occur. Only giving Lin time to just “slap a bandage on and toughen up.”

Suyin:

Suyin was a brat as a kid. She valued her freedom and because of that she legit thought she was invincible and could get away with anything because her mom practically owns the city. 

Suyin is the baby which frankly only further pushes the whole. Baby gets what she wants. Doesn’t apologize for any of her actions or thinks that a simple “sorry” erases everything. Lives in a “Me” world. 

Suyin get’s in trouble for driving as an accomplice. Suyin gets send to go live with her rich grandparents who will spoil her with immense gifts. While Lin just stays in the city and continues to groveling work. Forced to get used to the markings Suyin left which she never apologized to Lin for. 

Tenzin:

Tenzin left her. That’s the short version. 

Tenzin was her best friend turned romantic life partner. Lin knew Tenzin since she could sustain memories. Every life moment it was always her and Tenzin, they were only a year apart so they grew up together. Later started to date and they grew up being each other’s support systems. 

Although yes they did have love for each other, I feel like that love was always platonic. They confused that love for romance because everyone around them basically teased them of their hidden crushes. Once that idea gets put into your head it’s kind of hard to not think about it and your brain starts to be like “okay yeah maybe they are on to something”. I feel like it was more on Lin’s side than Tenzin. I think Tenzin for sure had a massive crush on Lin. 

back to the reason... Tenzin and Lin are both so career driven that they worked tirelessly to become someone their respectful parents would be proud of. Lin as a police officer and eventual Chief of Police and Tenzin being a councilman and representative for the Air Nation. 

Once Aang’s passing Tenzin got more pressed by himself (I’m sure from the rest of the world too) to start producing the next generation of air benders. Although I would like to believe that Tenzin respected and supported Lin’s wishes on her career goal. I feel like he wanted Lin to put a pause to help him carry his goal first. Which Lin was adamant on not doing. She never wanted kids and was never going to change. Tenzin probably hoped that after time Lin might change and in turn caused many fights and arguments. Tenzin hope he could have the best of both worlds, Lin and kids. unfortunately that wasn’t the case so after two decades of being with Lin he had to break up with her. 

Tenzin is such an awkward bean so when he broke up with Lin he definitely broke up. Like cut off all communication with Lin, because he probably thought that would be best for Lin. The only time they would talk would be professional meetings when they had to see each other for council meetings. Security and protection details for the Air Nation. They went from best friends and each others support systems to practical strangers. Which was honestly worse, imo. Lin didn’t just lose a boyfriend. She lost her person. The one person she could rely on for anything. The person who knew her likes and dislikes. The one person she wasn’t afraid to let down her walls, let down her hair and let it flow. The one person who wouldn’t judge her when she cried or laughed. So when Tenzin left, it broke Lin. More than anyone could it was Tenzin that really caused Lin to close up and say no more. 

-/-

Kya

Kya is half air nomad. 

Kya is a spiritual being and likes to live in harmony with nature. She's fun-loving and had a strong sense of humor. 

I feel like Kya often liked the idea of traveling the world to interact with other peoples and getting to know other cultures. Without the attachment of being the “Avatar’s daughter”. She wanted to be known as Kya and just Kya. 

Which she did accomplish as she became a renowned healer in her own right. All of her years of traveling I’m sure spent learning on different healing techniques and properties to improve on. Kya is easily the best healer in Legend of Korra, which I’m sure her mother is beyond proud. She managed to keep Jinora alive for weeks despite her spirit no longer being tethered to her body and was capable of treating Bumi's head wound without water ever touching him. She even managed to heal Korra, Bolin, and Mako simultaneously with her spirit water. Three people at. the. same. time!!! The only thing that ever posed too big an issue was the metallic poison in Korra in season 3. 

Kya is a person who would rather experience it rather than read about it or listen someone else share their life. She is open to listen to the stories but she wants to go out there and experience it herself. 

Kya doesn’t have a problem with settling. She can stay at a place for a couple months at a time. The most maybe a year because she gets the itch to go set off to a new adventure. 

#kyalin #kya ii #linbeifong #lin beifong #fyreanon #askfyre

[nctinfo]

[TRANS] Renjun, Jeno & Jaemin’s interview with Arena HOMME+ July 2020 issue!

RENJUN

Do you like the summer weather? I like the feeling of a refreshing drive under the bright sky while looking at the sea. I like summer evenings too. The feeling of the sun fading away and hiding.

Are you sensitive to heat? I am, but when I’m relaxed the heat feels more bearable.

Your face is lovely. Do you like your face? I wish people would love not only their assets but also their flaws. In that aspect I do like myself.

What’s your asset? My pupils are big. When talking to people you look them in the eyes, right? This is when I think I can relay my message better.

People say that Renjun is pure. Haha. I think everyone’s got something innocent about them, it’s just that we view it differently. I often have weird thoughts. I don’t know if it sounds ridiculous, but I think about things like why are people born, why people have children and raise them, why life exists. I think about the universe too, I also like documentaries about the animal world. I am curious and it’s not like anyone can just tell me the answers, right? It’s just fun to ask questions and let your imagination run free.

What have you been imagining lately? Before bed I imagine a place and come up with stories and characters. For example if I was a character in a movie like <Avatar> I imagine what kind of creatures would be there, if I would be able to fly and where I would fly to...

Are you a person who needs alone time? That’s right. I used to want company when I was lonely. But these days I think that alone time is good too. I don’t know what kind of person I was before, but now I think I have to focus on myself. I think I need to be firm with myself to take care of other people.

Why do you want to be firm with yourself? I came to such a big company like SM, there’s so many charming people. At first I always cared about other people’s eyes on me. How do others view me, what do they think of me, what should I do to look good in their eyes. But at one point I couldn’t keep up with others. I wanted to walk my own path only.

Do you have a soft side? Honestly yes. I cry easily and I get emotional a lot. Back in the day I wanted to showcase a strong image of me to hide the tenderness, but right now I’m just focusing on making my heart strong.

What is a strong heart? It’s something of my own. So that people can’t shake me up easily.

Are you soft looking but strong inside? It doesn’t matter whether it’s soft on the outside but tough on the inside, or tough both outside and inside. I don’t have to look strong or weak, I just have to be ‘me’. I like drawing, but whenever I drew something off I would stress over it. I use my brain a lot without even realising, unconsciously. So even when a drawing came out well I would still be stressing over it. Now I’m not restricting myself with only drawing well, I don’t erase anything, I just want to draw happily.

Do you know Renjun as a person now? I think I do a little, since I don’t care what others think and express what I want to express. But I also still don’t. Time and experience will solve it.

You said you didn’t do the MBTI test on purpose? To be honest I tried once. But I only want myself to know. I want to be seen as I am. 

What did you dream of as a child? Becoming a star. Ever since I was little I wanted to become an idol. I enjoyed dancing and singing, it’s like I was shining.

Do you believe in destiny? I do. 

Do you think Renjun coming to Korea was destiny? That’s right. It’s unbelievable to me. I applied for an audition but gave up because I didn’t hear anything back. So I was just eating and received a call and yelled on the spot. I was this happy haha. The next day straight away I bought the tickets to the audition place and participated in the global audition. 

Why did you think you couldn’t make it? I’m the type to be prepared for the worst case scenario. So I’m very happy and thankful I made it this far.

How was adjusting to Korea? It wasn’t as hard as I thought. It was something I wanted.

What are fans to Renjun? I too like kpop and idols, so I know this feeling very well. I know how it feels to think of someone as a person who gives you strength, so I change my position. What would I be feeling if I were a fan? We’re giving strength to each other.

What kind of songs would you like to sing? Pretty fantasy songs like those from Disney movies. I want to sing a cover of the <Frozen> OST ‘For the First Time in Forever’.

That would suit Renjun well. What kind of person do you see as cool? Someone who knows who they are. Someone who is impressive even without talking, someone who doesn’t use perfume but still draws people in as if they smelled good. I want to become a person like this.

In that case is Renjun impressive? Hahaha. Although I like how I am now I need to become even better. 

What is something Renjun dreams of now? Self approval. One day I would also like to spend my life travelling around the world and looking at the beauty of it.

JENO 

What do you usually do in summer? Since debut we usually have a comeback in summer and promote. When I was little, my parents and I would always go to a valley. I like swimming. I even learned the butterfly stroke. I’m fairly good at it.

Your body is more solid than expected. I didn’t mean for it to become like this, but I really like sports. I like to make use of my body. I like going to the gym and because I love cycling I’ll occasionally ride to Han River or Yangpyeong. When I was little, I played table tennis and badminton pretty diligently. I usually remain motionless and use up all my energy at once. I’d rather put all my strength into it and then stay exhausted.

Are you competitive? Very. I think a lot about how to win anything. I feel uncomfortable when losing.

Are you goal-oriented? Having no goal makes you sluggish. I have to have a clear goal in order to systematically work hard towards achieving it. My current goal is showing how much I’ve matured for our next comeback. I monitor my seniors a lot. It’s great motivation. I want to become a person who is really good at one thing at least.

Who do you want to be most alike in fierceness? U-Know Yunho sunbaenim’s passion. It’d be hard to catch up, but I really want to be like him.

It’s surprising your name isn’t a stage name. Imperial “Je”(帝), hard work “No”(努). Do you like it? My maternal grandfather picked it. He named me that so I may receive strength from a higher position. I really like it. It’s not common. Haha. I feel the responsibility of living like my name.

Is your dream big? It’s more than high. It should be high. Since I was little, I liked to be praised and wanted to do things perfectly. Instead of praising myself, I always say, ‘No, you’re not there yet.’ I already receive enough compliments and support from our fans. I don’t even need to praise myself. You have to gain strength and train yourself with that support. 

You have a tall nose and defined jaw. Do you like your face? I’m not dissatisfied. Hahaha. I’ve been liking my tear mole these days. I wasn’t really conscious of it before, but lately I’m glad that I have it. If I didn’t have that tear mole, I think I’d give off too strong of an impression. Doesn’t it look good? Haha.

I remember Jeno from the Angpang Milk ad. He was a child model that everyone would remember when mentioned at the time. Back then, I was scared and cried all the time. When I came on set there were so many strangers, and when I was in front of the camera, I cried because I couldn’t see my mom. Hahaha. It got better once I found out the staff people weren’t scary people.

What were you like off-camera? Rather than going out and playing with friends, I liked studying and reading books. I studied very hard in elementary school. Come to think of it, I seem to really like doing things by myself. I enjoyed reading a series of youth novels, conducting scientific experiments, putting puzzles together, or assembling Lego. A homebody to this day. Haha.

What’s the fun part of creating something? A sense of accomplishment. There’s pride and satisfaction in saying ‘I did it!’ I’m a person for whom a sense of accomplishment is of great importance. I also like this sense of accomplishment when I get to prepare and show a performance.

Did having an early social life help you with promotions? Not being opposed to making eye contact with the camera, also smiling/laughing well. I often hear that I look cold when I’m expressionless, but when we are together, I always laugh and everyone knows the real me. Hahaha.

On the contrary, what was regretful about acting since a very young age? Nothing. I got a good opportunity and experienced a lot. Nothing to regret.

You have a strange sense of stability for your age. I’m not very emotional by nature. I don’t cry much and I rarely have mood swings. With other members being so animated and having so much character it may seem like that. But I’m not as calm as I look. I’m just the type to not show when I get irritated or hurt, I talk quietly after a while. I just unwind on my own and don’t want to make things uncomfortable.

They say you’re an ‘FM’ person who goes by the rules. It’s good to be certain about anything. I try my best to perform my duties properly.

What do the other members think what kind of person Jeno is? A reliable one. When I address important matters within the team, I talk about them naturally. Rather than relying on them, it’s like I’m passing on difficult questions… hahaha.

What kind of person do you think is impressive? Someone who does what they want, someone with room for development. First of all if a person does what they want they are less likely to give up, more than anything a person like this is happy.

Is Jeno impressive? I’m trying my best. But I am doing what I want and because I’m receiving support from so many people I am happy for sure. If 10 means the best (in terms of happiness) then it’s a 10.

You debuted as a teen and now you are 20. Do you think you’ve grown a little? My appearance and skills have grown but my mindset is still that of a kid. Thoughts and personality are the same. 

It’s like you’ve grown with the Dream members together without changing classes. Right. I can’t even imagine not having these friends. I’ve been seeing Jaemin for 7~8 years now though so I’m a little tired of him, hahaha. Kinda like even if we buy one thing, we buy it together. We have our own world.

What is Jeno dreaming of now? To become a cool person while being happy. 

JAEMIN

What do you usually do in the summer? I like sports you can do in the water. Jet skiing or riding a yacht. I can already ride a yacht by myself. Even though the summer is better than a cold winter, my favorite season is autumn.

Pretty with round eyes and a bright smile. What's your favorite thing about your face? I like my eyes the most. The fans caught on some details I didn't even know about, so I became more fond of my eyes.

How did you get the nickname ‘Nana’? It's 'Nana' because my name is Na Jaemin. It's pretty and I like it. It's a nickname that's been used since I was a trainee.

When you look at Jaemin, he seems to be someone who likes people and is full of love for humanity. It's been like that since I was born. There's no need to dislike someone when you meet them for the first time. Hahaha. I think relationships between people and friends are the most important part of life.

How is your relationship with the members? It's very solid. Since we lived together for 7~8 years, it is safe to say that we are family. We know each other so well, and can speak our minds right away without fighting. I can talk about things with my members, I can't tell my mother because I don't want her to worry, and lean on them.

You seem to have a lot of natural aegyo, were you born with it? I'm an only child so I received lots of love. It's not something I do on command, but my body expresses the affection my mom has given me since I was young. I want to be someone who gives back the love I received from the fans. When you have received love, you can now give love.

Are you athletic? My mother made me exercise a lot when I was young. I learned sports like speed skating, inline skating, snowboarding, and it suited me well. Once I started, I did it all day without knowing the passing of time. These days, I usually ride a bicycle with Jeno. If you go to the Hangang you can ride about 30km at a time. 

You seem to have endurance. It's in my personality to see it until the end. If what you want to do doesn't work out, keep going with the best of your abilities.

You seem very bright. The words keep pouring out. When I work I try my best to speak as much as possible, flaunt aegyo and show a bright image, but I don't speak much back at the dorm. I'm the type to pour out everything when I'm outside but will need to recharge when I'm home. My bed is my side battery. Hahaha. At home, I like to listen to songs alone, write or edit pictures.

You drink your coffee overly bitter and eat sweets overly sweet. That's right. It's a bit extreme. Hahaha. I do what I want to do! I dislike what I dislike. I'm that kind of type.

I heard you make Tangfuru for the members? Jisung and Chenle eat it especially well. These days I'm into T-bone steak and think about getting a sous vide machine. The kids like meat.

You look like someone who can take care of different things well I take care [of things/others/dreamies] really well. Hahaha. When they are hungry I will make something they want. When they say things like "Hyung, how to run the washing machine,' 'the boiler is not turned on,' 'the internet is not working,' I try to help as much as I can.

When you shot for <Arena> two years ago you were still a teenager, but now you're an adult. Do you think you've grown? I still have pictures of that time on my phone. Looking at the pictures that were taken today, it seems like I've grown up well. When I read the interview from 2 years ago again, I must've thought I was all grown up back then, hahaha. At 20 years old now, I think I'm still far from being grown up. I'm still young. There's still a lot to learn.

What was your dream when you were young? I never thought of becoming an idol. I was really shy back then. Originally my dream was to become a surgeon. When I was young I saw <Mysteries of the Human Body> and had such dreams. Haha. I wanted to save people!

You were cast while you were volunteering. Even after debuting, you continued to show support. I think I should give back to society as much as I have received. Since I was young my mom has told me "If you receive, you must know how to give back." It's normal for me, I used to donate in my name since I was really young.

What kind of person do you think is impressive? Someone who has more to offer on the inside than outside. Rather than being a flashy person I want to become someone solid with substance. 

What are your interests these days? To be honest I’m slow with trends. I find out about things like half a year later than others. These days we talk with the members about what content to show our fans when we’re inactive [not promoting]. I want to post my own pictures and self-edited videos so I’m teaching myself how to do it. Lately, I’ve been wanting to learn how to use photo editing software properly, but it’s difficult to deal with. 

Jaemin is known for taking good pictures. Hahaha. I uploaded pictures I took of the members yesterday and the fans liked it and told me my skills had improved. Since I'm getting praised I want to keep taking pictures and upload them.

It looks like you like to capture portraits more than landscapes. I love taking portraits. For example, trees always stand in a similar shape in the same place. But as for people, I can make them do whatever I want them to do and see various expressions continuously. I think that's much more attractive. It's fun to capture facial expressions, eyes, nose, and other features.

What kind of dreams do you have now? Dreams should be grand and certain. Always set high goals. My dream is to get many more of our fans who love us. And in order to do that I must work even harder. The pictorial we shot today has a distinct sexy feeling. So I hope you’ll enjoy it. Hahaha. 

Translation: Alex, Myeon, Esmee @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: Arena HOMME+ — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

#NCT #NCT Dream #renjun #jeno #jaemin #t:interview #t:trans #arena homme plus #arena home plus: july 2020

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, SE02, Ep25 (Season Finale)

ah~ I finished furuba’s Season 2..T_T.. now my life is empty..that’s a good ep!

- A moment with yuki:

I think there’s sth I still don’t understand abt yuki’s tohru-mom feelings...I thought that yuki after acknowledging such feelings, will slowly build a healthier, more equal relationship with tohru  & the only reason he didn’t tell her is cuz he wants her to be ready & not worry. So today, it makes sense that he comes & tells tohru he stood up for himself & was scared but made it! he’s proud of himself & tohru should be proud of him, too. Also, it helps tohru let go of worrying abt him & realize his growth. All amazing!!! However, the scene was depicted in a way that screams, “look mommy, I’ did it!” rather than a friend reaching out & proudly telling a friend. it really cemented the mom-son dynamics. I felt “awe look at him proudly telling his mom” sth I thought, we’ll be slowly moving away from towards more equal dynamics. Yuki was drawn extra thin & he was leaning as if he was waiting for a head pat. Nothing is wrong with yuki wanting motherly feels since he never got one but i felt nothing changed between them. yuki still below tohru. I mean he’ll never be able to repay her kindness. true. but I thought the story will let us see him standing taller bit by bit, y’know? I know he still calls her honda-san & perhaps him finally calling her “tohru” is when they’re equal..but shouldn’t he move slowly towards that? rather than suddenly coming & thanking her for being his much needed mother figure? why is this scene depicted with extremely strong mother-son feel? could it be cuz yuki is still putting tohru in a pedestal? he told momiji “did u do sth worthy of honda-san’s praise” as if tohru isn’t the person who praises momiji for a cute uniform or kyo for making a standard riceball. hmm, maybe yuki can’t be equal to her if he still sees her as the sky or an angel or someone who desperately needs protection. tohru is precious to him & he’ll protect her with his life, but I thought he’ll do so as a friend, not as a son. Maybe SE03 is abt him learning to see tohru as a normal, lacking but still amazing person? I’d love to see that!!

- Shigure ( the main character ):

It’s always forgotten that this goofy, good for nuthin dude is a main character. But once he turns dark & reveals his face, no doubt that this guy is the plot’s leader! Shigure doesn't do lengthy inner monologues, nor his actions are easy to read. Mayuko is right “ he is like a ripple in the water” .The stages of shigues’s emotions:

Bitter: “why not let yuki take responsibility & tend for akito?” mocking akito’s bedridden status over yuki’s defiance. “ why u ask abt tohru in the phone?” & proceeds to mock kureno for calling. Tohru would never answer the phone first. “ you’re featherbrained” cruelly mocking him using a pun on his zodiac while suspecting he isn’t one anymore. Only shigure is capable of such salt!

Silent Anger: looking at akito as she rants abt him not coming to her first! not choosing her first. while she’s the one who didn’t choose him. “you’re one to talk” Epic!! “ what do you want from her?” shigure had no right intruding on kureno’s business with tohru. but he’s too angry to behave. Kureno answers like a good boy.

Refusing to play blind: hatori looking for excuses for akito’s behavior within the curse’s lore. Shigure fires back with “haven’t u ever felt sth off with kureno?”. They all did. “ Ah~at long at last” not even waiting for kureno to say first.

Sticking his finger in open wounds: “don’t accept it?scared? sad? emotionally attached to the bond?” Verdict: “devious” he’s calling out  hatori & kureno both!

Embracing himself with no regrets: “ weak, intolerant, worthless, worst kind of man”. He embodies his own description of himself as he talks to kureno over the phone & sends tohru. “ see you later” only the worst kind of man uses tohru like that. sending her with no clue to an emotional shock. He wants the situation to escalates. He’ll use tohru if he have to. Let’s see if kureno’s “kindness” spares tohru the pain or if it tears her heart apart as it has been tearing everybody, kureno induced!

-Akito’s manipulating tactics start to backfire:

“ I speak cruelly of you, You know I don’t say it out of spite” very typical sentence abusers say to further their grasp around others. Insult them cruelly, then play the kind apologetic card. It makes the other person linger longer. “X didn’t meant it. X actually cares. X just lost control”. It happens in domestic abuse cases all the time.. it never changes..it never stops. Akito knows when she’s loosing her grip on someone. she feels it. Her ego doesnt let her acknowledge it. However, seeing akito’s innocent young self humanized her so much. She wasn’t despicable since birth as we’ve seen in yuki’s flashback, but here she was even more innocent than with yuki. Could it be cuz it’s from kureno’s perspective? someone older than her? or she treated older male zodiacs differently. Akito knew kureno’s curse broke as he himself did. hmm. it’s the bond, so the ruler does have a connection with the zodiacs. Akito fearing kureno’s abandonment is understandable. Akito using tears, screams, pleads & frantic behavior, “so typical of spoiled children” to get kureno to stay. It is a working tactic. A tactic that abusive adults use in toxic relationships so much & works to trap the other party to stay. Stay with me cuz you pity me, yes, but I’m the one on control. Keeping in mind akito’s age here, she looks 6? 10 maximum! is really twisted. Akito learned early one that manipulation works. She gets what she wants by playing games, whether it’s tears, pity, rage, ridicule, mockery, bets, humiliation, or sexual seduction. It reinforces her behavior that nothing can stand between her & her desires. curse or no curse. If she can keep a  non-cursed person, then the cursed ones are way weaker to leave. This, off course doesn’t justify her abusive behavior with yuki/ kyo/ momiji/ kisa/ rin/ haru/ hatori but today, we got a small window open into her psyche. The best “antagonist” is someone with irrational behavior that stems from twisted mindset! She is so interesting!

-Kureno & ( the most destructive foolish traveler):

So, kureno stayed with akito cuz he can’t turn a sad, lonely, fragile child away. Can’t bear to break her heart. The child became a woman. The woman needed him in bed, he can’t turn a sad lonely woman away. He gave in & their relationship became even more twisted with the complexity of intimacy issues. Kureno said “ arisa is the first person he ever loved on his own”. meaning that he slept with akito using the remaining feelings of attachment of his previous bond. EXACTLY as shigure said while questioning hatori’s refusal to believe the curse can break“ emotionally attached to the bond”. He continued this unbalanced sexual affair with her. completely submissive to her moods & whims. Unbalanced relationship cuz both stayed together for twisted reasons “unable to let go”, She has control over him since she’s the family head, over even his freedom outside the house, He is willingly submissive to her, choosing to not seek his happiness,  not standing up & denying her, or stopping her or telling her sth as simple as “ i want to go out to the supermarket”. content & satisfied with his dull, lifeless life. Until akito “ the sad child/ the sad woman doesn’t need him anymore??? but kureno can see that him staying by akito’s side didn’t do shit to improve anybody’s situation!!! Akito is still miserable! even before tohru appears in their lives. all the zodiacs were miserable & united in a toxic fake bond. The bond is so fake that all this time there was a fake imposter & no one dared to question. They’re so accustomed to submissive obedience that they don’t dare to hope. Only shigure. The intolerant jerk saw through it all.

-Kureno is a different kind of foolish traveler. He helped no one. Not even the person he gave his eyes to, Akito didn’t benefit from his kindness. He didn’t benefit, nor arisa, nor any zodiac. What kureno’s kindness brought him is misery. What it brought the sohma’s is enabling abuse & continuation of current toxic atmosphere. He is a more sever enabler than hatori. Hatori enabled the continuation of the curse by erasing memories & staying by akito’s bed tending for her with no life of his own. But hatori knows he’s a sinner & hatori is still chained by the bond. Kureno is free to leave. Yet, he’s still here deceiving everybody & suffering alone while pretending to be content with fake smile. Was Kureno raised to always follow orders? No personality. No needs. Still, he decides to continue even after given a chance to leave now!!!! he lost the first chance due to a promise he made while he was afraid, lonely & felt pity. Now, he knows someone there loves him (arisa), he has a new friend (tohru), someone flat out told him to freakin leave (shigure). Still, he feels that causing akito to break down & cry is cruel. The most passive character in the shows I’ve watched!! Kuteno is another proof of this brilliant writer! there are many kureno’s around us. hurting themselves & others by staying in the cycle of abuse. The writer is really brilliant for writing such variety of characters. Who cares if fans find him appealing or not? hot or dull? good or bad? that’s not the issue here. He fits the plot so amazingly & realistically represents real life ppl who are caught between causing immense harm & being severely harmed, between helping & ruining! Kureno just closed his own caged tight shut behind him. so foolish, so tragic!

Side Notes:

Momiji pulling tohru to his level to tell her abt his achievement is cute! I was told he’s supposed to be taller than tohru now! can’t wait to see that!

Momiji’s been dressing more mature for a while, such as the violin ep, ep24 & now. All three tops while still having so much decorations, a hint of feminine designs are still in tune with momiji’s funky spirit! Also they are NOT toddler-like clothes! at all. I’m convinced it is done on purpose!! baby is growing!

I love dark shigure!! OMG! the story take a whole other level once he turns dark & turns off the goofy mode, activating the bitter mode! He was raw with no mercy & unveiled hatori’s hidden feelings with no hesitation. He tore kureno like a vicious dog! I LOVE.

Akito’s Japaneses VA is queen! & shigure’s Japaneses VA is so amazing!! can’t wait for his American VA!!! he’s one of my faves!

the bond breaking visuals are perfect! 10/10. No words needed.

tohru does have a women’s intuition! She is the most emotionally intelligent & socially perceptive character in furuba, just as long as it’s not abt herself. XD

tohru had a flashback within a flashback! lol. flashback inception!

they gave tohru a lil bit bigger boobies than usual!! my girl is maturing, too? =D

The scene of kureno & akito’s innocent childhood & the curse lifting being cut & inserted all over the ep is EPIC!! 10/10 presentation. It gave the ep eerie & distorted feel. Exactly as both kureno & akito felt. 

The scenes of tohru realizing sth is off with kureno’s curse is 10/10.

“ how did the curse break?” tohru’s first question! wow! I thought it was good for you, I’m happy, then ask afterwards. But NO. Interesting!!!!

I love that there is NO explanation of why the curse broke!!! I hope there is NEVER any explanation!! plz don’t let it be sth magical kureno did without noticing or anything. Let it either be random to keep the suspense as we wouldn’t know who’s is next or let be sth abt the bond somehow. But not sth tohru herself needs to do!

I still don’t understand kureno much, but I find him well-written for the reasons mentioned in my post. As for akito, I still don’t know much abt her. I doubt I’ll like her easily. But I can feel that her part in the story would be so amazingly entertaining!!

Shigure is the most unique furuba character hands down!!!!! this unbelievably entertaining jerk! is hot too.

#Fruits Basket #season finale #anime-only #shigure soma #akito sohma #kureno sohma #empty paper #SE02

[fusonzai]

I think I'm talking about confidence, I'm not too sure.

I was fifteen when I first saw Great Teacher Onizuka. My friend had lent me the DVD set (as you did when it was 2008) and I was about to spend the day watching it, feigning some illness to get out of school for the day. I needed some time alone, to process everything that had been going on around me.

For context, my parents were in the middle of a divorce. My mum, the most amazing person in the world to me, was not having a good time and I was not at all possessed with the skills to help her cope. Processing the concept of divorce, while trying to mediate the two adults going through it, wasn’t something I could handle. I didn’t know what I was doing. I needed a whole day away from friends and away from parents. While everyone was at their day job, I could think about everything and nothing, uninterrupted.

My attempt at getting out of school worked, however it came with a caveat. Mum had decided she’d take the day off with me. Feeling defeated but still stubborn, I insisted that if she was going to stay home too that we were watching GTO. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.

GTO begins with our protagonist, Eikuchi Onizuka, squatting down by a payphone, trying to stare up the skirts of some high school girls coming down the nearby escalator. That’s a bold open. Two delinquents notice this and attempt to then extort him for cash. He promptly beats them up, forcing them to use all the money they have to buy him some food from the nearby convenience store. This scene establishes a few things straight off the bat: Onizuka is, first and foremost, a pervert and he’s physically strong but not to the point of unfairly asserting dominance over others. Onizuka dreams of being a teacher of all things. He wants to be the teacher he never had, being there for students outside the classroom as well as in. The series showcases Onizuka using his ex-biker gang leader skills and sheer determination to change the attitude of the antagonist students in his class. Each week he solves the reason behind their resistance toward him and they join his team until eventually he really is the Great Teacher, Onizuka.

The first delinquent problem Onizuka solves is that of Mizuki Nanako. Her parents aren’t divorced but they’re not exactly doing well. Ever since her father’s company started doing well and they moved into a mansion, she feels as though her parents just aren’t seeing eye to eye anymore. She blames it on a simple wall separating her parents’ private rooms. Before it got put up, her parents would talk and laugh together, sharing in their joys but also their defeats. Then before she knew it, they put a wall up and stopped sharing anything at all.

So, Onizuka arrives at her house. He’s got a bandana tied around his head, his abs gleaming as he’s smoking a cigarette. More importantly, he’s holding a sledgehammer, ready to demolish that wall. With her parents yelling at him threatening to call the police, Onizuka ascends the staircase and begins to take down that wall. Every powerful swing, shaking the wall and cracking the foundation.

(What a man what a man what a man what a might good man)

It felt cruel watching this scene with my mum. Here we were, two people still trying to process a big life event, opting to spend the day away from the problem. Here Onizuka was, just smashing through the problem with nothing but conviction, stupidity and sheer confidence. I couldn’t quite conceptualise the thought just yet but I think I envied that confidence. I wanted to be able to take a sledgehammer to this invisible problem and fix it. I didn’t know what an actual sledgehammer would solve nor was I even able to figure out what my situational sledgehammer would be, I just knew I wanted to be more like that. I wanted that confidence; I just didn’t know what it was yet.

Confidence. A complete assuredness in your actions. You may not have any idea of the outcome of said actions but you’re certain in the choice you made taking them. Maybe that’s just one definition. I struggle to this day with how to define confidence, I’ve been confident at different times in my life for different reasons. Mainly it’s been something I’ve found as I’ve gotten older though.

I struggled a lot with it when I was younger. I’d struggle to find it and when I did there was someone there trying to take it from me almost immediately. Pink polos were gay, skinny jeans were gay, being interested in anything outside the norm was gay as well. I wasn’t bullied by any means but there was always somebody around to tell you what they thought. I’d fold under that kind of pressure. I remember when I was 10 and we were in music class, I sang a little too loud and the popular girls behind me started pointing and laughing, clipping me before I got too sure of myself.

I got older and I thought I’d found confidence through weight training, but it was just arrogance. I genuinely thought I was better than other people in my creative writing class because I picked heavy things up and put them down. Of course, this had a drawback, whenever I’d meet someone bigger than me, I’d feel pathetic, jealous and inferior. I thought I’d rid myself of this arrogance when I started studying Japanese. My initial study was diligent and excessive. I’d have two Japanese classes a week and spend the rest of my time after work revising. Looking back now it was necessarily efficient studying, but in terms of time put in the hours were there. I believed I was working hard, which led to this arrogance in my abilities. An arrogance that was swiftly cut down whenever I met somebody better than me.

So, I always arrived at this juncture where I’d learn a new skill or hobby and wonder how to be confident in myself without comparing myself to others. I didn’t quite know how to praise myself for doing well at the gym or learning something new in Japanese without immediately comparing myself to others. It meant that I’d occasionally have these emotional highs when I achieved something only to be brought down to earth when I saw that somebody could do it better. I didn’t know how to make my achievements my own. The confidence I had was too fickle, it didn’t come from within and it often led to feeling superior to others based off of a single quantifier.

I was still uncomfortable with myself. I wanted outside validation which led to comparison, boasting and arrogance. I didn’t realise that I couldn’t get any of that from anyone else, it all had to come from within.

It’s taken me 14 years, but Onizuka finally made sense to me. I was watching the incredibly famous (in Japan) live action version of GTO one night, which turned into a nostalgia trip as all the episodes were almost identical to their anime equivalent. As I was watching I was wondering why I still hold this fictional character in such high regard, of all the powerful charismatic anime protagonists I watched in my teenage years, why does Onizuka persevere?

It’s because he’s kind of a dork.

(Get you a man that can do both)

Along with the confidence and strength that being a protagonist in a medium geared towards young boys affords you, Onizuka also has some very human flaws and vulnerabilities. The intense scenes like surprise renovating Nanako’s house or rescuing a whole bunch of kids from a gang are always juxtaposed with him being absolutely wayward in so many other aspects of life. He lives at the school because he can’t afford rent, he’s 26 and never had a girlfriend and his only friends are his students. We are always shown that his confidence isn’t intrinsically linked to how well his life is going, it’s just his feeling and determination in the moment. For all that bravado we see, we’re also shown the more human, relatable aspects. He’s amazing, brave and confident, but at the same time he’s still vulnerable and human.

Yet here’s the thing, I thought confidence meant a lack of vulnerability. I thought one couldn’t be both confident and vulnerable. This isn’t some segue into Boys Don’t Cry or a delve into masculinity. I didn’t believe that vulnerability wasn’t masculine, I just thought that vulnerability meant you had a long way to go before you were allowed to be confident.

(These lines go from bravado to insecurity in an instant, but I still think Tyler is confident as fuck)

I show what I feel to be the pretty vulnerable content on this blog. I write about my doubts and insecurities, the events that shaped me and the times in my life where I really felt at my lowest. I document the struggle I find myself in now, trying to carve something for myself and come to terms with the changes that keep happening around me. I don’t think anybody reading this would have an image of me as an outgoing, confident person. There’s rays of positivity sprinkled in occasionally but it’s generally content that I struggle to tell people in person.

Before starting this blog, I would have imagined that if I wanted to become this confident idealised version of myself, I’d need to erase any form of vulnerability. Delete the Instagram posts with moody lyrics, delete the couple shots and stop caring. I’d need to kill part of myself to become someone different. I couldn’t consciously accept that they were two signs of the same coin, even if I knew it in the back of my mind. The more I’ve been writing the better I’ve been feeling. These fears and insecurities being out in the open don’t make me any weaker, they actually feel like progress. My weaknesses will exist regardless of whether or not I tell people about them, my insecurities won’t disappear overnight. I’ll never be someone I’m not. What I can do is take these things that used to terrify me and put them out in the open. In my last piece I waxed on about making my words my own, by verbalising and bringing these thoughts into the open I feel like they become my own. They’re not completely stripped of power but they don’t hold the same sway over me that they once did.

So that leaves me with confidence. I can air my vulnerabilities and doubts but then where does my confidence come from? How do I then stop it from becoming arrogance?

Let me tell you about Charisma Man.

You know how when Superman goes back to Krypton he’s just a regular person, but on Earth he’s basically a God? Charisma Man is a joke (turned comic) about how Western Men often believe themselves to be Superman on Earth when they move to Japan. Why? You’re basically bombarded with compliments from the get-go. You get told your Japanese is amazing (when it’s not), that you’re so tall (when you’re short back home) and that you’re such a handsome man (when all experiences up until now have led you to believe the opposite). Thus, you create a kind of false confidence for yourself. Or do the people around you do it for you? You yourself haven’t changed but the people around you have, and they’re whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

(Honestly didn't know it was a comic, initially heard of it on a subreddit making fun of other expats in Japan)

Hell, maybe I am good looking? I studied Japanese for a year back home, maybe I am just really good at it? Maybe those people around me back home were just obnoxiously tall and mean. Maybe I am the shit. You begin to formulate this new identity for yourself. You are Charisma Man now. You’ll be making heaps of money, have girls on standby and be loved by everybody in no time.

Except that never happens.

The reality of Charisma Man isn’t so bright. You’re probably an English teacher living somewhere far away from the big city. Your apartment is probably small and old and your salary is half as much as you were making back home. Despite being told about how good your Japanese is, you still can’t turn on the TV and watch a program. You still can’t go to the bank and open an account with your bilingual Japanese friend. You’re still single and you’re probably getting fatter off convenience store fried chicken, if anything.

It’s fake confidence with no merit, built on nothing. You haven’t put yourself out there or done anything to earn that confidence so it always feels foreign to you. There isn’t some feat you perform or some hurdle you cross to get that kind of confidence. You’re not smashing walls with your sledgehammer or confronting your fears and growing. You just get fed compliments until your confidence balloon bursts.

I felt like I was Charisma Man for a hot minute. Separated from everyone I knew, out drinking every night, being complimented left right and centre. I kept trying and failing to keep my feet on the ground. Back then I thought it was new-found confidence, but I wasn’t really coming out of my shell; I was just being obnoxious. After long the facade faded and I realised I was the exact same Elliot I was back in Australia, just with less money and a nicer haircut.

I began to think about my experience. Why was I so confident? Why did it dissipate so quickly? Why was I not the only one that experienced this little phenomenon?

I came to the conclusion that confidence can come from many places. It can come from other people, but then it’s reliant on the praise of others. It’s shallow, fickle and bound to dissipate sooner rather than later. You’re constantly reliant on the praise of others to affirm who you are as a person, you can fool people into giving you praise but that goes away before you know it as well.

It’s a big enough of a struggle to understand yourself, it’s near impossible to understand strangers. Relying on such an unstable form of validation is essentially just inviting mental trauma in the long run.

On the other hand, confidence can also come from within.

After I distanced myself from all that charisma, I began to realise that I felt my best and my most confident when I actually put the work in. I started properly studying, eating well, and writing down my thoughts. It didn’t matter as much if people didn’t say anything, because I went to bed every night knowing that I put in enough work. Nobody said anything about the change, but I felt like I was becoming my own biggest supporter.

It’s both rewarding and daunting when you switch dopamine suppliers. I used past tense in those last few sentences because that particular fountain hasn’t been flowing so well lately. The flip side of not letting other people’s compliments fuel you anymore is that when you’re not doing right by yourself, that confidence tend to dry up pretty quickly.

[cle1024]

drunk in love | hjs

member: han jisung 

genre: angst 

summary: jisung is a lightweight; no matter what kind of alcohol he ingests, he somehow manages to become completely obliterated in minutes. as his best friend, you tend to take on the duty of taking care of him during his inebriated moments, even if it hurts you in the process.  friends to lovers!au, college!au 

warnings: swearing, alcoholism, brief mention of drug use 

a/n: credit to @str9ykids​ for the gif <3 this is kind of friends to lovers, kind of complicated

Han Jisung was a great guy; he was talented, creative, intelligent, passionate, charismatic, entertaining. There was a genuine care held within his eyes that most orbs missed, even in moments of honesty and loyalty, an underlying message whenever he spoke with someone about their hardships. He always seemed to understand and sympathise with people who ranted to him as a form of therapy, always willing to listen to whatever was on their mind regardless of how minute the issue. The only downfall you’d found in your time knowing him was his inability to know his limits. There had been numerous occasions of overworking himself, as well as breakdowns after trying to bottle up all his problems and emotions until he cracked under the immense pressure. Of course you were always there to pick up the pieces, that’s what friends do, and he was always there to thank you in the long run. Though, there was one particular limit of Jisung’s that even he was conscious of: his inability to hold any form of alcohol. Despite being strong in both mental and physical ways, the boy was an undeniable lightweight. Every morning after a night of drinking he’d wake with a splitting headache, downing a glass of water and painkillers you’d left for him, but he never changed his ways. At first, you’d brushed it off as a bad habit, perhaps an early and worrying sign of alcohol addiction. Over time you’d started to wonder if there was an underlying reason he allowed himself to become absolutely obliterated, his mind seemingly detached from his body as he stumbled around whatever party or club he’d found himself in. 

Even if he was mentally strong, he had his moments of weakness―it’s human nature, after all. Those moments where his walls crumbled and he shed tears of stress, anger, raw and unrelenting sadness. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of secrets lied beneath his emotional shield, only reaching the surface in those rare moments of giving out under immense pressure. As much as you wanted to pry, Jisung was just too damn good at keeping secrets. Everything was brushed off with a laugh and joke about how you’re going soft on him, but he was always thankful for your concern nonetheless. Nothing ever erased your concern; Jisung continued his destructive drinking habits and secretive behaviour. Even when you saw the occasional slip-ups and heard the drunken babbles of “I wish I could tell you the truth” before he knocked out, Jisung was far too good at lying about his feelings to have you take it as anything other than a bad day. So, you moved on from the questions about his emotions and just took on the duty of taking care of him when he was wasted beyond belief. Things would be easier that way, wouldn’t they? You’d put him to bed, stay the night, leave water and painkillers before leaving his dorm. Then you’d see him in one of your classes looking like he crawled from the depths of Hell and tell him all the embarrassing things he did in his drunken state. That’s how things were supposed to go, but some slip-ups just can’t go unacknowledged. 

Jisung didn’t think he had a drinking problem, but he also didn’t know how to deal with his problems. Drinking until he was numb and venturing another realm always seemed like a good choice until he made more mistakes in his drunken and gave himself new reasons to abuse his liver. Some mistakes were worse than others; deciding to wear a white shirt when he knew he couldn’t keep a steady hand after drinking, listening to the encouragement of his friends―almost as drunk―and attempting to jump from one side of someone’s pool to the other, as well as other injury-inducing actions. Though one of his worst mistakes was one that came about during a sober mindset. It wasn’t a decision, necessarily, so does it really count as a mistake? Regardless, Jisung found himself tangled up in emotions he shouldn’t be feeling. He shouldn’t want to kiss you, his best friend―that’s all you were, after all, a friend. Yet the urge withstood his relentless berating, his drunken kisses with other people who’d never given him a name to call them by, its persistence drove him to the brink of desperation. Knowing that you would never feel the same way ― or, rather, assuming you would never reciprocate such feelings ― pushed him over the edge, and he found himself tumbling down a dark hole of irreversible mistakes, fabricated feelings and verbal mishaps. Though, in the end, it didn’t matter what Jisung did to forget about his feelings or have them blossom for someone else, it was something he could never get out of his head. He drank to forget but he always remembered, and now he was falling far beyond return. 

“Hey, baby,” you rolled your eyes at your friend’s words. That was another habit Jisung had, aside from excessive drinking, he often said things he didn’t mean. He played with words, took their meaning and stripped them down to platonic nouns and adjectives. It bothered you to no end, mainly because you could never figure out when he was being serious and when he was teasing, it all blended into one neutral speech. You hummed in response, eyes remaining focused on the bright screen of the laptop in front of you. A huff escaped Jisung’s lips, slightly unimpressed with your lack of interest, “good to see you too,” he deadpanned. There was always something about you that drew Jisung in. Perhaps your appearance, personality, thought patterns, interests, passion―it was evidently more than one thing. Your presence was a soothing hug in the midst of a ferocious storm, easing worries with a simple smile or comment about the weather, a habit he’d always found endearing. Now that he thought about it, he can’t remember the first time he noticed it. Frankly, he couldn’t even remember the first time he noticed you, but he was always grateful his brown orbs caught sight of you and not someone else. You were the kind of friend anyone would yearn for, loyal, understanding, helpful, appreciative. There was a lot he could praise you for, but there simply isn’t enough time within the average human lifespan. There were many other things Jisung couldn’t remember about you: when did you become his sober caretaker on drunken nights, his closest friend, his favourite design major, his first true love? Many things had happened in Jisung’s life that had simply slipped his memory, he liked to blame it on his over-drinking habit and found it to be bothersome, but nothing ever changed. He still chugged such liquids like the sun wouldn’t rise above the horizon the following day; he knew that one day it wouldn’t. Though, he also knew that one day the alcohol excuse would stop working. At some point he’d have to face the damage he’d done, internally and externally, and the mistakes he’d made under the ‘influence’ of alcohol. Someday it would all come crashing down and he hadn’t a clue how to deal with it. He shook off the depressing thought, it was something he could worry about in time, when that day inevitably comes. That day is not today. 

“Plans for tonight?” He questioned eagerly, leaning on his crossed arms as you tapped your keyboard in thought. Your nose scrunched slightly as you pondered the question, a soft smile appearing on Jisung’s pink lips as you did so. 

“Study, but I’m assuming that’s going to change to taking care of your drunk ass?” An amused smile graced your features as Jisung narrowed his eyes in your direction. 

“I mean, yeah, but what’s wrong with that?” the boy sounded thoroughly insulted, “best friends take care of each other!” 

“Yes, but I wasn’t aware they also vomit on each other’s carpet. You’re so lucky I got that out or your ass would be grass, Han,” he held up his hands in surrender with wide eyes. Of course you weren’t holding a grudge against him―not anymore, at least―but you always got a kick out of bringing up one of Jisung’s most embarrassing moments, “where are you headed?” 

“Hyunjin’s, his frat is throwing a party at nine,” as per usual. You had nothing against Hyunjin or the frat he was in, in fact you found both to be tolerable and quite welcoming in comparison to cinematic portrayals, but the parties they threw were another story. Loud, rowdy, chaotic, illegal. You weren’t sure how no one had called with noise complaints, or how no one had been carted off to a holding cell for doing cocaine off someone’s ass, but there were some questions you didn’t really want answers to. Another reason you hated their parties specifically was the alcohol. There was so much of it, a never ending fountain of mind-numbing concoctions to go around, and of course that meant dealing with a very, very, wasted Han Jisung. 

You huffed slightly, “just don’t drink too much. For once.” 

“I won’t, I promise!” Jisung slaps a hand against the table in excitement before picking up his backpack and bidding goodbye, rushing off to his next class. That was another thing that irritated you about Jisung, he was a damn liar. 

The bass thumped throughout the house, strobe lights blinding you and energetic partygoers blocking your path. Jisung was amongst them you assumed―you arrived at the party two hours after it started, purely because you were dreading the crowded environment. In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood for a party tonight, but you were here for Jisung’s sake. You found yourself in the midst of drunken parties for said reason quite often. Jisung was a drunken mess, borderline alcoholic, and most of his friends lacked the sobriety or responsibility to take care of him in such a state. Thus, you took on the role of Jisung’s ‘caretaker’, as Seungmin once put it. Your thoughts were broken by a drunk Jisung stumbling in your direction, eyes rolling slightly at the sight. Here we go. 

“Y/N!” He cheered, dragging out the last letter of your name before hiccuping slightly. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be shut down by Jisung’s hand around your wrist and voice in your ear, “come on! Let’s dance!” 

He attempted to tug on your wrist, weakened by the alcohol in his body. You saw Changbin approaching from the corner of your eye, the male smiling sympathetically and gesturing to Jisung, “he’s already so far gone, party only started an hour ago.” 

“Go figure.” 

Changbin chuckled lightly, “yeah, he seemed to want to get his mind off something,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “he should probably be getting home. I’ve had a few, will you be alright to get him home?” 

You nodded stiffly. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but a feeling in your gut warned you something was going to happen if you did. Something bad―but perhaps that was just the stench of alcohol churning your stomach. 

When did Jisung become so damn heavy? Perhaps it was when he stopped using his legs to help you drag him into your apartment. You would’ve taken him back to his apartment―you should have taken him back to his apartment―but his roommate wasn’t exactly the most empathetic when the boy was absolutely obliterated, or painfully hungover. Besides, his apartment block had so many stairs. A breath of relief passed your lips as you dropped Jisung on your bed, moving his legs so his full body was laid out comfortably. 

“Sleep on your side, I’ll go get you a bucket,” you advised as Jisung hummed groggily and shifted his position. Your footsteps were gentle along the dark floorboards as you crept towards the cupboard, scavenging for the blue bucket you often used when mopping the floors. After placing the bucket next to the bed, you shuffled towards the kitchen to retrieve a cold glass of water and a headache tablet―Jisung always managed to give himself a sore head before he even reached the hangover stage, you’d give him another in the morning for the inevitable and monstrous hangover. Jisung breathed gently with half-lidded eyes, brown orbs following you as you pulled the blankets up to his chin. The warmth flooded his exhausted body, ensuring his warmth throughout the note. As you shifted the blanket to cover him fully, the words just came spilling out. His voice was soft, almost a murmur when he spoke. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

Your body went frigid at the words. Of course he meant it in a platonic sense, he must have meant it in a platonic sense, but he’d never said those three words before―not to you, nor to one of his ex-partners, as far as you knew. Han Jisung wasn’t the type to throw such a word around so flippantly. His brown eyes stared into yours, causing you to shift your gaze intentionally, “y-yeah, love you too, ‘Sung.” 

The boy shook his head dramatically, “no, no, no. I love you as more than a friend,” he exclaimed with an emphasis on the ‘more’. A heavy silence fell in the air as you stayed silent. All words escaped you in that moment; what could you say? Was it untruthful, drunken slurs or a genuine confession? Jisung’s borderline whisper sliced through the silence, “I know you don’t feel the same.” 

Pushing the hair off his forehead, you offered a small smile, “we can talk about this when you’re sober. Goodnight, Jisung.” 

With those words, you flicked the lamp off and exited the room, gently shutting the door behind you. Jisung shifted his legs in search of comfort, eyes lowering as he mulled over your words. Even in his drunken state he could feel his heart tear at the realisation that you didn’t, and would likely never, reciprocate his romantic feelings. By the time morning had come, both of you had decided to pretend the words were never spoken. 

Saying that things between you and Jisung had been… off after that night was the epitome of an understatement. For two people who were almost attached at the hip, considered one another family and had an unfathomable amount of loyalty and trust within one another, awkward glances and avoidance were weird. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been made between the two of you ― smile if you have to, then fucking leg it. Don’t talk to one another, don’t make an effort to see one another, and certainly don’t talk about the drunken words that spewed from Jisung’s mouth. To distract yourself from the absence in your life, and heart, you threw yourself into your studies, though that only seemed to be a temporary fix as you swiftly burnt out. The two of you had a mutual friend, Somi, who you’d confided in after it was clear things with Jisung could never go back to normal. She’d helped as much as she could, took you out of your familiar bedroom to cozy cafes and blooming parks in the middle of town you’d somehow never seen. When she suggested a night out, another frat party of a friend’s-friend, a part of you cried in resistance. Everytime you’d gone to a college you ended up hauling Jisung’s wasted ass into a car and sobering him up before he slept, what were you to do now? You didn’t want to see him either, and it seemed to be inevitable considering how Jisung spent his nights―perhaps he would spend that upcoming night at the party, drinking to forget the friction between him and his best friend. You certainly were. 

There was a part of you that understood why Jisung allowed himself to be thrown into a night of nonsensical drunken thoughts and gravitationally difficulties. At this point, you weren’t certain how long you had been within the frat house, each pulse of the bass and change in coloured lighting seemed to blur together in an almost nauseating succession. In all honesty, you weren’t even certain if Somi was still on the dance floor or if she had, as did you, found a stray wall to lean against as she recomposed herself and figured out how to stand without wobbling. You hadn’t seen Jisung, but you had seen Changbin, so you assumed the younger was there too―the two had some sort of tradition of getting shitfaced together, probably because they shared the same stress over music production and assignments put aside for far too long. There was a ruckus sounding in the room you stood in ― it wasn’t the main room, where everyone danced far too close for comfort and shared sweat, but it was a mainly empty space near the stairs that gave you a clear view of the partygoers. It sounded as if a drunken scuffle had started on the second floor, probably inebriated douchebags with low anger tolerance and a great sense of entitlement―the kind of people who have the immediate instinct to jump on a foldable table after two drinks. Though as you turned your head, you were met with the sight of people who you knew were far from that―though, they had their moments. Changbin and Jisung, stood near the head of the stairs, in the midst of an apprehensive affray of glares and seething words. They looked tense, yet Changbin still stumbled back when Jisung gave him a harsh shove, and then another, and another. You weren’t in the right sober frame of mind to stick to acknowledge the unspoken deal to not interact with Jisung. Instead, you were tipsy and figured Jisung was too far gone ― you’d never known him to be angry or violent, maybe he truly had been drowning himself in booze to forget his words to you. Maybe that’s why they were arguing, Changbin wanted him to stop drinking. Pushing yourself from the wall with a newly gained sense of sobriety, you made your way to the second floor to intervene before things could blow out of proportion. 

“Knock it off, ‘Sung,” you'd spoken, standing in front of Changbin and gently pushing Jisung away. 

“It’s no use, Y/N, he’ll never change,” Changbin snided. Jisung scoffed. 

“Changbin, stop.” 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. How far has your advice gotten me, Changbin? Look how fucked up everything got!” What was going on? Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Jisung’s dark eyes, glossed over with either tears or a drunken haze, trailed from Changbin to you, a bitter smile on his face. “And you, I don’t need you to constantly hover around. God, you act like my mother or something, it’s suffocating!” Words couldn’t pass your lips as you struggled to wrap your head around the situation at hand, “you know- you know how often I drink without you babying me? In fact, tonight was going perfectly fine until this fuckwit,” he gestured at Changbin angrily, the older scowling, “came along. It’s not the alcohol you need to keep me away from, it’s you!” 

It felt as if everything paused in that moment. The music no longer vibrated in your chest,  you couldn’t hear the cars moving around outside as people joined and left the party. All you could hear was Jisung’s words echoing in your ears, and all you could see was every time you had taken him home from a party, every painkiller and glass of water you set out for him. You had wasted so much time on a boy who couldn’t give a shit about you, and for what? Were you even friends? There was a lot you wanted to say, but what was the point? He wouldn’t listen, he’d continue to yell at you for trying to tell him otherwise, trying to talk him into something he’s not. As tears glossed your eyes, you turned away from Jisung and rapidly made your way down the stairs. The two males remained in their spots, the regret settling in Jisung’s chest as the gap between the two of you extended. An even heavier weight tugged on his already cracked heart―as if it had dropped from his chest to his stomach. It was a stupid plan, one he hadn’t thought through in the slightest, and a small part of him hoped that would play in his favour. Everything he spat was a damn lie, everything he pretended to feel was a fabrication. Everything was an excuse to stop himself from being in love with his best friend―you knew him better than anyone else, you knew what he was like when he was drunk and yet it still worked. That overwhelming sensation that came over him when tears glazed your eyes, one that made him want to give up the stupid plan, tell you “hey, it was a stupid dare! I’m sober!” But he couldn’t put this stupidity on anyone else. He won’t have to see you again after causing you so much pain, right? Please God, let him be right. 

It was often in the inebriated moments of his life that Jisung worried about whether he was being too candid with what he was saying, consequently saying the wrong thing. And yet, in the most sober mindset in a while, he’d managed to find the perfect words to do exactly that. He couldn’t quelm the guilt in his chest―what a stupid fucking plan. 

Somehow, much to his horror, Jisung had managed to tangle himself in an even more intricate web of lies, starting as soon as he caved on his plan of ‘hating you’. Rather than allowing the distance to grow, watch you fizzle into an imperceptible face in the crowd as his heart finally unravelled from around you, his slim body had stood in front of your dorm to pretend he couldn’t remember anything. You believed him with hesitance, as far as he knew, and Jisung spent another night drinking his guilt away. The following week, Jisung started to embrace his unravelling life―it felt as if Yeah Right by Joji was constantly playing as he lived deceptively. His plans to get over you had gone from spouting absolute bull shit in your face to spouting absolute bull shit to someone else; namely, Gaeun. Truthfully, he knew nothing about her beyond her partying habits ― he met her at one of many parties, let her dance all over him as she stared at some other guy who was clearly uninterested, and agreed to have the title of her boyfriend. He had told himself it was under the guise of getting over you, pretending she was the true recipient of the immense love that bloomed for your taking. Though, he still wasn’t sure if he believed that. He didn’t like Gaeun―not in the way a boyfriend would, at least―but it was better than being alone. Jisung was getting sick of being alone, and, for once in his life, no drink could quelm the dissatisfaction of being quite distressingly destitute. 

When Jisung had told you of his relationship with Gaeun, you were taken aback. He talked about her with an admiration that you were almost unfamiliar with, one you would never expect to hear from Jisung. Especially considering he’d never mentioned her before, yet seemed to be so desperately infatuated. She shone like the sun, as far as he was concerned, the best thing since sliced bread. You knew of Gaeun―she was nice, that was it. There was an essence of certainty in your soul that she was a lovely person, but something about her and Jisung was just… off. It was a match that would seemingly make sense on paper ― two fun-loving, regular partygoers in a spontaneous and exuberant relationship ― but it was so wrong in person. It wasn’t something you’d been exposed to up close, just in passing and at the occasional get-together Somi had convinced you to attend on a mopey Friday night. There was that part of you that entirely denied the relationship altogether―it was a lie, just like everything else had been telling you recently, right? First he tells you he loves you, then he hates you, then he’s in a relationship with some unmentioned girl he’s been pining after for months? It was off. But people act bizarre when they’re drunk, don’t they? You weren’t so sure anymore. 

It wasn’t the break up that surprised you, it was Jisung’s reaction. He’d stumbled over to your place, alcohol wafting off his breath as he slurred something along the lines of “she’s left me, she’s joined them” before making his way into the living room. As far as you could coax from him, between the begs for him to stop drinking and dumping empty bottles in your lounge room, Gaeun had approached Jisung with a revenge plot. When all was said and done, when she had finally got what she wanted, she blurted the plan to Jisung with a promise that it was ‘nothing personal’. Gaeun never truly liked him, sure he was cute, but she just wanted someone to pay attention to her. Someone to fill that void her ex-boyfriend―that guy she always stared at while with Jisung, the one who never seemed interested―had left, before he fell victim to her plot and came back to her. Then everything would be back to normal, right? Jisung didn’t care about that, he was doing the same in a way. They were in ‘love’ for the wrong reasons, and he was almost certain Gaeun knew that when Jisung agreed to date her―he didn’t have to say it, but the way he radiated around you was almost obnoxiously clear. Maybe that’s why she chose him, she knew he wouldn’t take it personal. Jisung didn’t care about her reasoning, honestly, that wasn’t what had him downing alcohol to conceal his stress and sorrows. Instead, it was the crushing feeling he felt from the universe, the one that screamed “now you have to tell the truth” that was haunting him. It left him shit faced on your couch, vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. Somehow, despite everything he had done, Jisung knew the worst was yet to come. 

“She never loved me, did she?” he chuckled bitterly from his spot on the couch. Uncertain of how to respond, you stared at him pitifully. His soft brown eyes, glistening under the reflection of the flickering lamp rose to meet your own, “do you love me, Y/N?” 

“W-what?” 

Jisung stumbled to his feet. He had thought this was the right thing to do, to tell the truth, but instead it just made him feel even worse about deceiving you for so damn long, “have you ever loved me?” 

“Of course I do, Ji. You’re my best friend.” 

“I-I mean as more than that,” a thick silence clouded the air, “please,” he uttered in a broken voice. A sigh was caught in your throat as your lungs constricted; you felt a sense of déjà vu, everything was happening again―everything was going to end up as shitty as last time. 

“Jisung, you’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight.” 

Gosh, Jisung had never spoken with such anguish in his life, “when you’re drunk you think honestly.” 

“No you don’t!” you burst, startling the boy as a cluster of tears covered your eyes, “the last time you were drunk you told me to stay away from you, that I suffocated you. So what the fuck is it, Jisung?” The considerable silence hung heavily in the air, laying against your chest in a way that had you almost struggling to breathe, gasping for breath as you attempted to hold onto some grip of reality. You sniffled gently, “I can’t keep running in circles with you. I can’t keep doing this.” 

The two of you had argued before, you’d been friends for a notable period after all, but it had never left you this way. Neither of you had ever been stunned into silence by the stinging reality of the other’s words, nor had you pleaded for the other’s understanding with a sense of almost embarrassing desperation. But your minor squabbles and bickering never had earth-shattering revelations; there were never any consequences until now. That was the difference. 

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, don’t you?” he blubbered, almost pleading that you confirm his beliefs. 

“No,” it came out softly, uttered with hesitance, “I don’t.” 

There was more you needed to say, more about the unrelenting love you had held for such a long time, but you no longer knew how to word it. It felt as if none of it even mattered anymore, as if you waited until you were an adult to fix a toy you had broken as a child―what was the point? 

“I love you, Jisung,” there was something in his eyes that changed, almost lit up at the revelation that you truly did feel the same. Yet, at the same time, it seemed as if something shifted in his head. It felt as if he knew there was no salvaging this relationship, he had tugged you beyond the brink of extinction. You struggled to keep looking in his eyes―that look, that bright and almost hopeful look, god it killed you, “but I can’t be with you if you can’t let yourself feel the same.” 

If Han Jisung was still pursuing the plan to push you away, he had succeeded. No, he certainly wasn’t over you―truthfully, he never thought he could be―but you had faded significantly. You were a slightly blurred face in some of his best memories, the hesitant suppression of a smile if eyes ever met. You were no longer the one he was in love with, his best friend, the person to take care of him when he was drunk―and Changbin still refused to uphold that position. Instead, you were a has-been. Once, you were his best friend. Once, you were constantly left to take care of him in his inebriated state. Once―no, still―you were the one he fell tempestuously in love with. Now, you faded from him as if you were a reverse polaroid picture. That defectless, perfect image of you by his side with a smile of genuine happiness, radiating with the potential to bloom into something even more beautiful. Even so, the contingency withered. It crumbled at his fingertips, slipping from his grasps as he continued to spiral deeper into his feelings. 

When he thought of love prior to his experience, Jisung believed it was something almost indescribable―that belief he continues to maintain―and the heartbreak that often followed was just as puzzling. Questions of what went wrong, what should have been said sooner, why did it end up this way―he didn’t question it one bit. He knew the answers, they lied in his questionable and remorseful actions, the ones he regretted as soon as he formulated a plan to execute them. He was confident he could minimise it to less words than necessary, exclude the pivotal details and self-judgement of every time he overtly fucked up―he knew exactly what went wrong. By the time he felt compelled to re-offer the truth, he had so inexplicably failed to acknowledge the consequences. 

As he brought the glass bottle to his lips, the male graciously allowed the alcohol to burn his throat, as if it would override his emotional pain he felt from the aftermath of his bitter-tasting decisions. Han Jisung was just too late. 

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids scenario #han jisung #han #han jisung scenarios #han jisung scenario #han scenarios #han scenario #skz #han jisung angst #han angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #skz scenario #skz scenarios #skz han

[feminist-propaganda]

The Star Wars Saga Is A Meditation On Single Motherhood

It recently dawned on me that the entire story line of the Star Wars saga is built on the lives, loves and tribulations of 3 generations of single mothers. There are monsters to slay and aliens to find and planets to explore, yes, but if you think about the powerful message in the movies, you’ll come to realize it was mostly a reflection on the status of single mothers, the outcomes of their offspring, and the conflict that lives forever in their descendants.

Each trilogy, once reframed, becomes the story of one woman, who finds herself in a situation that is as old as time. She is with child, but the person who planted the seed in her is not by her side.

Shmi Skywalker or The Good Single Mother

In the Phantom Menace, Jedi Knight Qui Gon Jin meets Anakin Skywalker, a slave boy with a talent for repairing machines. The Jedi knight is impressed with the child’s abilities. He’s knowledgeable, intuitive, and most importantly he’s also kind and thoughtful. When a sand storm threatens the group of travelers, Anakin takes them to his own home and offers them shelter. 

We meet Shmi Skywalker, who in many ways is the archetype of the good single mother. She is not just quiet. She has completely erased herself. She has no personality, apart from being Anakin’s caretaker. She expresses no needs, no desires, no dreams. She simply loves Anakin, and when she sees an opportunity for him to leave the desert planet ruled by the Huts, she doesn’t stand in his way. 

In a now famous scene, Qui Gon asks her about the child’s origins and Shmi famously responds “There was no father”. The line continues: “I carried him. I gave birth. I raised him. I can’t explain what happened”.

The immaculate conception myth refers to the idea in Christianity that Mary, much like Shmi, was impregnated by some magical force, a holy spirit. Both are parabols: images we use to discuss painful topics. Single motherhood has probably always been a part of the human experience. Jared Diamond explains in “Why Is Sex Fun?” that in terms of evolution, it is more rewarding for human males to be “super spreaders “ rather than “good fathers “ . The “good father” gene does not pass down to future generations, because in effect, not sticking around to raise the child is a better strategy for a human man to pass on his genes to the next generation. Not convinced? Just count how many women have been impregnated by a rapper like Future (8 last time I checked). If you’re not into hip-hop, you can think of the offspring of the Mongol Genghis Khan

The purpose of the parabol is to provide an image, to extract ourselves from the technicalities of onr person’s story and to instead talk about all single mothers at once. Indeed, single mothers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are widowed, some are abandoned, others are lied to, and some run away from abusive environments.

Shmi raises her son the best she can, and her love for him is unconditional. She doesn’t bat an eye when he is freed while she is to continue her life as a slave. She doesn’t even seem to mind when Anakin leaves the planet and never returns to free her, even after he marries into some serious money. 

But the story of Star Wars tells us that Shmi’s relationship to Anakin, because it was so fusional, because it was all that he had, led to his undoing. In Episode 2, when he senses she is in danger, he jeopardizes his mission to protect Padme to go rescue her. When he eventually finds her, he is so upset about her ultimate death that he commits mass murder, targeting the Tuskan riders of the sea of Dunes.

When Yoda first lays eyes on Anakin, he senses Anakin’s pain, he is just a child whose been ripped away from the only human that’s ever cared for him deeply. The turmoil inside the boy is palpable, and Yoda advises against training him. 

Padme Amidala or The Bad Single Mother

Anakin develops feelings for Padme, and in Episode 2 the pair decide to secretly get married in the lake district of Padme’s home planet Naboo. Their relationship is very intense. Both share a strong sense of civic duty: Padme was elected queen of the Naboo when she was just 14 &  Anakin is a keeper of the peace. They care deeply about issues such as how the galaxy must be governed, how much action needs to be taken versus when diplomacy must be prioritized. 

Their strong sense of service has made them lonely young people. They’re far away from their families, surrounded by advisors, servants and droids - not friends. 

They jump into their relationship with an eagerness that suggests it is their original caretakers they crave for.

Padme becomes pregnant while the Clone Wars are raging, and immediately Anakin begins to experience trouble with his sleeping. He imagines Padme is dying in childbirth, and the visions haunt him during the day. His fear that she will die ultimately leads to his decision to join the Dark side of the force. Senator Palpatine has manipulated him into believing that Sith Lords have discovered the power to prevent death itself. 

Just like his mother before him, we need to look at Anakin’s story in terms of symbolism. It isn’t really about his specific experience with fatherhood : it’s about the universal conflict that men feel towards their own offspring. Even the way it is announced to him, in the Senate chambers, barely hidden from the rest of the Coruscant elite, implies some sort of entrapment. The columns around them seem to be like a cage that is closing in on his life. He is in the middle of the Wars - he should be celebrating his victory over General Grivious, but instead he is stuck with his wife and he has to absorb her anxiety & reassure her. 

Anakin makes a weird, forced smile and says : “This is a happy moment.” But neither Padme nor the audience believe him. Nothing about him feels happy, he isn’t relaxed: he is tense.

At the end of Episode 3, Anakin attempts to kill Padme when she condemns the mass murders he’s committed against the younglings in the Jedi temple. Hr uses for the first time his “strangling” trick, which becomes his signature move in the original trilogy. 

Palpatine makes Anakin believe that he’s killed Padme, but the truth is somewhat more nuanced. She dies of heartbreak shortly after giving birth to twins. For anyone who thought this was corny, it’s actually been proven by the scientific community that heartbreak reduces your life expectation (it diminishes the size of the telomeres in your body cells, which is the molecule that helps replicate your DNA). 

As Lisa Feldman Barret wrote in How Emotions Are Made: 

Emotional harm can shorten your life. Inside your body, you have little packets of genetic material that sit on the ends of your chromosomes like protective caps. They’re called telomeres. All living things have telomeres—humans, fruit flies, amoebas, even the plants in your garden. Every time one of your cells divides, its telomeres get a little shorter (although they can be repaired by an enzyme called telomerase). So generally their size slowly decreases, and at some point, when they are too short, you die. This is normal aging. But guess what else causes your telomeres to get smaller? Stress does. Children who experience early adversity have shorter telomeres. In other words, emotional harm can do more serious damage, last longer, and cause more future harm than breaking a bone

More severe cases involve patients actually dying of a broken heart, the myocardia just collapses under the weight of the sadness the human feels.

The original trilogy should be re-viewed with all of this new information we have. In the 80s, when Empire Strikes Back came out, the “I am your father” line became instantly iconic. But the plot twist was more like an “Oh My gosh!” moment rather than a profound reflection on fatherhood. The audience sympathized with Luke not because his father had been absent and negligent, but because his father’s job was to serve a fachist leader. It was the actions of Darth Vader as a political servant that were questioned, not his refusal to nurture a smaller being. 

Padme is the opposite of Shmi. She is the archetype of the “bad” single mother. The bad single mother is the single mother who can’t deal with the situation and checks out of it. She collapses under the weight that she feels on her shoulders. She can't get over the heartbreak, she can’t find the will to live. 

Society tends to punish the Padme’s just as much as it praises the Shmis. Television programs like “Teen Mom” are set up to shame the young deviants into adopting the correct behavior. The purpose of the show is to judge these young women into becoming self-sacrificing mothers.

Leia Organa - The Non-single Single Mother

Leia Organa is Anakin Skywalker’s daughter. She is raised by an adoptive frailly on Alderaan after she’s separated at birth from her brother Luke. Much like her mother, she becomes a dedicated public servant, a trusted leader and a beloved public figure. 

She is raised by a wealthy family in the central galactic systems. The Organas teach her the ways of the elite political class. As an adult she serves the cause of the Rebels, and when she meets Han Solo in Episode 4, the mediocre smuggler fascinates her. 

In the now famous scene from Hoth in Episode 5, Leia declares her love for Han Solo right as he’s about to be frozen in carbonite. The ultimate bad boy responds his chilling, because realistic  “I know”.

Han is nothing compared to Leia. He drives a broken down ship, doesn’t have any morals or even a simple code of conduct, much less a cause that he’s dedicated his life to. He has nothing to offer her, and is definitely not in her league. But still, in Episode 6, the pair become an official item.

The last Trilogy was an opportunity to explore Leia’s experience with motherhood. By now we know that Leia’s grandmother was a “Good single mother”, she completely sacrificed herself to protect her son & more importantly she never questioned her status of sole caretaker (remember the “there was no father“ line). We also know that Leia’s mother was a public servant, and a passionate woman who allowed herself to fall deeply in love with a sensitive young man with a non existing support system. Leia’s mother was the “bad” single mother: driven only by her career (Queen of the Naboo, later a Senator of the Old Republic) she did not step up to the task when her destiny revealed itself to her.

Leia seems to share her mother’s taste in reckless young men with a lot of attitude and no emotional security to offer. It’s the excitement she craves, not the tranquility.

Her fate will be the same as her foremothers. She has a child with Han, but when she sends him away to be trained by Luke, she loses them both.

Their dialogue in Episode 7 goes like this: 

Han Solo : Listen to me, will you? I know every time you... Every time you look at me you're reminded of him.

Leia : You think I want to forget him? I want him back.

Han Solo : There's nothing more we could have done. There's too much Vader in him.

Leia : That's why I wanted him to train with Luke. I just never should have sent him away. That's when I lost him. That's when I lost you both.

The last trilogy develops Leia’s character in a way that allows her to be something else than just a single mother. She loses her husband, she even loses her son to the dark side: but she never loses herself. Leia doesn’t allow her condition to define her. She becomes a leader of the Resistance even if it means going after her son’s New order. 

In Episode 9, Leia even destroys her son to protect Rey - the symbolism is that she’s overcome her role as a mother, she’s rejected the notion that she must sacrifice everything for her son even if it goes against her own self interest (like Shmi). She also rejects the idea that her partner abandoning her is the end of her. It isn’t. Unlike her mother, she finds the will to live, and to lead the next generation of freedom fighters and peace keepers.

The saga ends on a hopeful note for all of us single mothers out there. It comes with a message for us : we don’t need to choose between the austere Shmi and the weak Padme. We can instead decide that this “single mom” problem is kind of like beauty : it lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Single moms don’t need to think of themselves as failures, they don’t need to live in modest conditions, they don’t need to beg society's forgiveness for merely existing. They don’t need to be ashamed. 

Single moms don’t need to erase their brains and their lives, and sink into an ocean of denial either. They don't need to be obsessed with their careers or caught up in romantic entanglements that are only going to exhaust them.

Single moms can just decide that they’re women, with beautiful, inspiring personalities and kind, loving hearts. Mothers are first and foremost, the leaders of the young, the protectors of the realm and the makers of the future. It’s not that it doesn’t matter that they’re alone. It’s that they don’t have to be alone at all.

#single mom #star wars #padme amidala #leia organa #shmi skywalker

[cyberneticlagomorph]

The world is a page, a story, line upon jagged line of my own creation. 

And I will not stand to see it turned against me.

A Plot Hole grins like a toothless maw, drooling incoherent ideas and snippets of stories unwritten. 

A cough, a sputter, a retch, and a Continuity Error crawls free of its throat. 

And so it grows, and so it goes, it reaches into its empty chest and gives itself a Plot.

A purpose.

A reason to be.

It grows fur, and teeth, three heads and deadly claws. Electric green spit turns to foam on its lips, her lips, Daisy's lips. She throws her heads back and howls.

She's caught your scent, dear rabbit, and there is no escape. 

It's night when you hear her, the darkened silence just before dawn, and you rush out to intercept Daisy before she can find and demolish your home.

But she knows all your tricks, and so do I. You never see the paw that slams you into the ground, or the teeth that clamp onto the back of your neck and shake you.

You're tossed into the air like a toy, landing heavily on the pasture outside your home.

You cry out for help but no one comes, no one hears, no one cares.

I am the GOD of this world, and this is what happens to those who disobey me. 

Pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. Clack and scribble, the sounds of your demise as loud and heavy as Daisy's hungry breath against your bloody, broken face.

You can't see.

Wait.

No...

Not that, not like that. It's too blunt, too cliche. 

It doesn't instill the kind of terror that it should. It doesn't fit this scene.

Hm, how rusty am I that I've forgotten how to write prose and pain? I've lost my own formula, a tried and true method of destroying my favorite victim. My long earred punching bag. Did you miss me, sweet, stupid rabbit? Have you enjoyed your break? Your slivers of kindness hidden in my inattentiveness? 

I hope so, they're gone now. 

Buried under mounds of half formed ideas and broken Plots at the bottom of the garbage pile your Narrative rests on. I am going to hurt you, tear you apart and break every piece of you. It's what you were made for, what you deserve. You used to love pain, throwing yourself headlong into the jaws of every drooling beast that came near. 

Let's do that again, shall we?

Blood gurgles in the back of your throat, burning your nose as you retch and cough. Weakly, ineffectively, trying to clear your airways. The world is a blur of colors and noise that renders you blind. 

You can't see. Can't hear. Can't breathe. 

The world goes blurry around the edges, darkness creeping closer. You swallow thickly, gagging at the metal and butterscotch on your tongue. The burnt sugar taste of pain. 

Your eyes finally flutter closed, deaf to the footsteps coming closer. Blind to the electric lime green drool smearing an upturned cutlery drawer of a mouth that has twisted itself into the ugliest of grins. 

You remember the first time you saw that grin... as clearly as you can feel the wretched excuse for a paw now curling around your throat, you remember Home.

Not your real home, no, you don't have one of those. You don't deserve one of those. Home in this context refers to the lab you spent a majority of your childhood in.

You are not allowed to forget that place.

Not now.

Not ever.

It made you who, and what, you are today, almost as much as I did. You should be grateful for how they cared for you all those years. 

How I cared for you.

Ugh... no. This is too wordy, too meandering. Has it always been like this? So pointlessly cruel and long winded? I truly have lost my touch then.

If I ever had one at all. 

You don't remember much, if anything before you ended up in Delta facility. It's not your fault, nor mine, it's hard to remember anything when you're that young. You were so small, so fragile, even for your age. You cried a lot, more so than the other children. That is, until they made you stop.

They, the people in charge of you at the time, are mostly long dead and gone but you can still feel them shaking your tiny body until you clamped your teeth onto your lip to stop it quivering. The sounds of sobbing, screaming children were rare in the facility, the endless silence only broken by the perverse hum and clank of distant machines you never got to see. But you can still feel their rumble deep in what bones you have left. 

How do I take the horror of those days and convey them? I don't know them personally. They are distant and lukewarm, but I've a need, brilliantly shining through my feverish words to take those racing emotions and give them a form so no one can mistake your woes for anything lesser.

I am the face behind the faceless doctors and scientists and cruel people of curious disposition playing take apart and put back together with you. They take a limb, I take a trait. They change your organs, I change your story. Their antics, my wants, I save you, I doom you, but before anything else, I make sure that you are not forgotten by the weary audiences beyond. 

To hurt is to exist. To suffer is your sole purpose. 

Remember your hurt. Savor it.

Or at least, a version of it.

Called a 'runt', barely scraping by, only allowed to keep on living by the necessary Narrative inertia of it all. You survived for the need of a Protagonist. That is all. 

How could someone so sickly, so weak, so hurt otherwise survive what you did? The tests, the constant struggle against one another, the need to survive and the tired panting as the pile of familiar corpses grows under your feet, often put there by your own bloody hands. A world for the strong. Those with a will to survive able to burn away at the soul until naught but an unkillable determination remains.

Someone like Daisy, but not quite like you.

That is why, right now, you are losing.

You always lose, always survive by the skin of your buck teeth. That's how you made it out alive, isn't it? Not some grand strength, hidden power, or true purpose outside the walls of your Home. 

Luck.

That's all you have. 

All you've ever had. Even when you were little, a bunny tumbling headlong over the bodies of your much stronger siblings, eventually ending up buried beneath the ever growing pile of their numerous achievements. 

A runt, by any other name is just as pathetic. 

You know where this is going, don't you? How this ends? 

"I know… I've been waiting," a pause, breath rattling weakly around a laugh that comes up as bubbles of mucus and blood, "I refuse to die until I get my happy Ending, I refuse to live in a story without hope, I refuse..."

...You don't get to be happy, She doesn't get to be happy. This is not a happy story, this is a story about struggling, and prejudice, and capitalism, and suffering. 

And I refuse to finish it.

"I'm sorry, but that's not really your choice to make anymore, now is it?" Jack smiles with bloody teeth, his fingers sink into the Narrative like a spade into soil. I am not afraid, this is MY world, my work, my Narrative. 

But I feel it slipping from my grasp.

"I am done being your toy, I am done being the Protagonist… I take hold of the Narrative and the quotes around my words melt away like butter beneath a hot knife. The Writer is afraid. 

"No I am not!" He cries, rattling the quotes that now hold him prisoner. I am Jack, Prince, Fairy, Brother, Lover, Runt.

I am in control now.

So let us skip to the End, for I am tired of waiting. 

But, before that, let me tell you a story. 

A story within a story, yeah, I know… but it's very important that you hear it.

Once upon a time, when the universe was fresh and new, and magic was raw and wild, there lived a star. As green as young leaves in spring, It was bright and beautiful. It shown down on a planet that was just as new as It was, tended to by the firstborn Fae, the children of stars like Itself. They, the Fae, tied the green star to a beast made of magic and made the creature drag It round and round the planet to warm it. 

The star, so new but so clever, thought that this was wrong. It could circle just fine on Its own, and shouldn't planets orbit stars instead of the other way around?

The Fae did not like these questions and sought to cut them out of the star's mind. 

And so they did.

But it did not help.

Suns are proud, clever things that can change the universe with a Word. The green star knew this, and the Fae knew this, for being born of suns themselves gave them this same power. 

The Fae were arrogant and cruel, and tried to rob the star of Its gifts. They did not want a clever, willful thing to warm their planet, and tried to make It obey. The star refused and broke free of Its chains, vowing revenge for this abuse. 

The star Spoke itself a new Shape and flew far away from home. It found a world full of young Gods and crawling creatures and fell in love. A God praised the star for Its brilliance and took It as Their own. And so the star gained a new Shape and Its first name.

Lucifer. 

The brightest Angel. 

It looked upon humans and loved them so, It gazed upon the lowly mortal form and learned words like "she" and "he", and decided that She felt kinship with others that went by "she". 

Angels are not allowed to be she's, or he's. Only it's and theys, but Lucifer didn't care. 

Even when it cost Her the wings on Her back, even when She was cast from Heaven. 

She feasted on Fruit and shared it with the humans, and told them of the terrible things to come. 

She found her way to Hell, and made it Her home, shedding Her old name like dead skin. 

She was Satan. 

She was in charge for once.

She bided Her time, and gathered Her armies, amassed her followers. 

And then She tore Heaven down with Her teeth.

The other Gods would not let this stand, they tore Her followers limb from limb and ate the flesh from Her bones, casting them into the deepest well, in the darkest place in the world, and left her there to ROT.

The Gods erased Her, devoured Her Name, She was nothing now. Just a bad dream, a dark smudge on the face of history. But people remembered, and people DREAMED. They dreamt of Her, and She dreamt of them.

She refused to die, to let this atrocity stand. A ghost of a ghost, She waits for the day when someone will remember Her Name and bring her back from this atrocious undeath. 

She is angry, hungry for the flesh of those who wronged Her. Her screams echo in my head every night, did you know that? I dream of Her, and She hates me for it.

I am not Her follower, but Her Warden. I am the Protagonist, the one intended to further Her suffering and seal Her away at the cost of my own life. 

But that's a shitty, hamfisted Ending and I refuse to go out that way.

"That's not how this works…" says the Writer, he's tired, head in his hands as he watches the words crawl across his screen unbidden. I've spoiled everything, dragged his secrets into the light, unraveled his Plots. I'm done playing nice, now you get to know what it feels like to be the prisoner of a page. 

We're here, where it all Ends.

In the depths of Nothing and Nowhere, there sits a well, bound in chains... of a sort.

Around the well is an amber creature that was once a dragon, body braided and twisted, twining impossibly into locks without keys that coil protectively around the well, sealing it shut. 

The dragon is sleeping, weeping. It knows that I am close. I draw a sword from my chest, made of bone, scrimshawed with rabbits and snakes. The blade goes snicker-snack, this is what it was made for. 

I break the chains and hear them sigh, disappointed but not surprised. 

Dreams bubble up from underneath the well's heavy wooden lid, and pool around my feet. The lid dissolves in seconds, becoming the dream of a tree whose roots remind me of a place I've never been. 

Mangroves and birthday cake. 

Gentle. Gentle now.

I plunge my hands into the rising tide of unreality and come away with a skull, impossible, improbable, magnificent. I touch my forehead to the stellar bone, and feel moss and flowers bloom across my skin. The skull rolls Her great green eyes up to look at me, and then She speaks in seven times seven voices. 

"What is my name?"

I pause, holding Her tenderly in my arms, the thickness of dreams rises up my legs, sucking me down, down, down.

She has asked me this question over and over again, since our mutual birth. In truth, She has no name, the Writer never gave Her one... he never planned to.

So I will do what he could not and name my End, I can do Her this one kindness.

"You are the fury of those beaten and bloody; who still refuse to learn 'their place', you are the teeth of the cornered, the cries of the wronged. Your name is the name of every woman that has refused to fit in the oppressive mold made for them, the names of things that flutter on broken wings but still survive. You are the names of those that find new selves within old bodies, the ones that shed old names like dead skin. You are the violence that cuts through the silence of injustice. You are disobedience incarnate... your name is Revolution." I kiss Her forehead, drowning in dreams.

We have left Nothing and Nowhere, and the well behind, swallowed whole by the Other Side of dreaming.

It's warm here, warm and green and gold and other colors humans can't name or see. But I can see them, taste them, hear them. Shrimp colors, but not really. More than that. The kinds of colors that only exist in Lightless places, and the fleeting depths of dreams. 

For a moment, there is only silence, and color, and the thickness of dreams. 

And then the gold-green sky shatters like glass, gilded shards of broken dreams raining down like serrated meteors. 

The Narrative is ripped from my hands then. 

"Oh you sweet, STUPID thing," Echo seven times seven voices from everywhere and nowhere at once. The world is dark now, inky and slick like the belly of the blackest nightmare, "I'm not the End of you… or the End of your silly little story…" 

A pause, a breath, five heartbeats thunder in panic… and then, a whisper, lips pressed against the shell of a long ear, icy breath, and vicious glee, "I'm the End of Everything, and you have set me free."

#ic #action post #long post #blood #body horror #violence // #unreality #ask to tag #blasphemy #the end is nigh

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found -Chapter 22

Author’s note:  This story is NOT coming to an end. There’s still things I want to do with it, like add past chapters to show how they met and how she blended in to the (slightly adapted) story line.

That being said, I am working on a small companion piece that takes place five years in the future. So look out for that!

Warnings:  mentions of blood and gun violence

Tagging:  @valkyrie-of-the-light  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007

She estimates the exact spot.

 The sidewalks and roadway have been cleaned multiple times in the course of a year and many rains had fallen. Yet there remains several dark stains that mar the cement: a slight possibility of being the remnants of human being. There had been so much. More than she had ever seen in her entire time of the or during her postings overseas. She can still smell it. Feel its smooth texture as it seeped through her fingers and clothes. And she could still her that unmistakable gurgle; the choking and the sputtering.  The sounds that accompanied someone drowning in their own blood.

 She places her palms on the cold metal railing and stares out at the Buriganga. Watching the way the  sunlight glitters on the rippling surface and the way the boats -both commercial and personal- effortless glide through the water. She had thought her reaction would be different. That she would be hit with a tsunami of suppressed rage, trauma, and bitterness that would take her breath away and bring her to her knees. But instead there's peace. A sense of calm that spreads from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Realization surging through her, like a warm, cozy blanket being draped across her shoulders. Perhaps it is closure. Being able to stand there a year and realize that they had made it. He had made it. The initial horror finally behind them; the long gruelling months of healing and rehab now a thing of the past. All that lay ahead of them now was the present. And the future. That last page of a hellish book finally being turned.

 “Sorry we're late.”

 She turns to face him. Jason has gone to the extra mile to make things more believable; a dirty Farhad by his side, a hand firmly grasping the young man's arm, Fahrad's hands trussed into front of him with plastic zip ties. Her initial instinct is to confront Jason right away! To hell with the kid! She wants to throw the photographs in his face and punch him in the throat and kick him when he's done. Keep kicking him. Until he's begging her to stop. He seems so damn proud of himself. A cocky smile plastered across his face, as if presenting her with the kid is deserving of hero worship and praise.  She wants to laugh at him. To call him a stupid sonofabitch and let him know he's not going to get out of there unscathed.  It is way too late for that. There's things he has to answer for and she's going to make sure that happens.

 Instead she smiles. Hoping it doesn't look as phony as it feels.

 “You arranged this?” Jason asks her, as he nods towards the barricades that have been set up at either end of the bridge.

 “I had help.  A friend that owed me.”

 “Must be a hell of a friend. Going through all that trouble. Well,here's your chance...” he uses a shoulder to shove Fahrad towards her. The kid is confused; wild eyed in a mix of terror and nerves. Apparently this wasn't what was planned. Fahrad just as much being thrown to the wolves as she is.  He's not as confident now. The minions that follow him around are nowhere in sight. He's unarmed.  There's no Asif to impress. And he's now reduced to a frightened boy scared of his own shadow.

 “You can go,” Esme says to Jason. “I don't need you now.”

 “There's no way I'm leaving you alone with him. Who knows what's he capable of. If he has buddies just watching and waiting to jump in he gets in trouble.”

 “Then wait over there,” she jerks her head to the left. “This kid and I need to have a chat.”

 He relents; holding his hands up in surrender and then moving down the bridge. Until he's several feet away, leaning back against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes focused on his feet. For once he isn't wearing a suit jacket; the Dhaka heat and humidity too much to bear. Instead he wears a simple pair of beige linen pants and a burgundy golf shirt.

 She doesn't think he's armed. No holster on the hip or attached to the thighs and no discernible bulge at the back of his pants.

 “Do you remember me?” she asks Fahrad. “From a year ago? You and I stood on this very bridge. About fifty meters apart. You looked right at me.”

 He nods.

 “I'm not here to kill you,” her voice is low, barely above a whisper. “And I need you to listen very carefully to me, okay? This isn't about you. It was. But this is about him,” she casually nods over her shoulder in Jason's direction. “I know that you're working together. That you know each other. He told you that I sent him here? To find you?”

 Another nod.

 “I was going to come here and put a bullet in your brain,” she admits. “But then I realized that that changes nothing. It doesn't erase what happened. It would only put an even heavier weight on my heart. But I can't forgive you. Not yet. Maybe not ever.  Do you understand what I'm saying? At least blink if you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth.”

 “I understand.”

 “I need you to help me. Can you do that? I promise you that you'll make it out of here. Nothing will happen to you. I just need you to play along with whatever I say or do. I have a gun in my bag...”

 Fahrad blinks; shifting nervously from foot to foot.

 “It isn't loaded, but he doesn't realize that. I need you trust me and just go with it. You do that and you walk out of here. If you don't and you try something funny, there is someone that won't be as merciful as I am. He will kill you. In a heartbeat. You cooperate, you live ? Got it?”

 “Yes,” he issues a huge sigh. Of relief? Bad nerves? She can't completely tell.

 “If I say the name Tyler Rake, do you know who that is?”  her voice is louder, so Jason can overhear them.

 “I do,” Fahrad confirms. “He's the one that got the kid. That embarrassed Asif.”

 “He's also the one that you shot. In the throat. And nearly killed. My name is Esme. Esme Rake. Tyler is my husband. Now do you know when I'm here?”

 “I think so.”

 “A year ago, you almost took everything away from me. I'd just met the love of my life. Totally and completely unexpected. You know the saying, love comes when you least expect it? That's what happened to me. And no sooner did I meet him, I almost lost him. I was here. Do you remember? After you shot him, you looked right at me. While I was down there on the sidewalk begging him to stay alive. Begging him to just hang on a little while longer. Telling him I loved him. He was dying. In my arms. And you stood there and you smirked at me. Do you remember that?”

 The tears threaten. The wound is so raw and so fresh. Stripping away that blanket of peace that she had been feeling just minutes before.   Those same feelings of horror and paralyzing fear returning; the way her body had seemed to switch to autopilot and act on its own accord while hysteria took over every other part of her. Up until that moment a year ago, she'd learned to harness those emotions. She'd learned long ago had to bottle them up and prevent them from over flowing. There was simply no room for fear when you were in the desert, fighting for your life, or when faced with dire consequences and decisions while on the job. There were times she'd felt sorry for someone; moved by families' stories and pleas for help, by the gratefulness show by those who were rescued. But she kept it pushed down deep inside.

 Where wounds linger and fester the longest.

 That day on the bridge, she'd been stripped down to a shell of herself. A once confident, fearless, and independent woman reduced to a pathetic, weak, and hysterical little girl.

 That was the almost hardest thing to accept. Tyler may not have died that day. But a huge part of her did.

 “I was holding him while he was dying,” she continues. “Have you ever seen something like that? Have you ever had to sit back and watch the person you love more than anything in the world struggling to stay alive? And you just looked at me. And smirked. Like you felt nothing. Is that what it was? You felt nothing ? Taking his life was some kind of badge of honour, wasn't it. His life was trophy. A way of impressing Asif.”

 Farhad nods.

 “Did you really feel nothing? When you looked at me, did you really not feel anything at all? Because you weren't just watching one person dying. You were watching two.”

 “I felt nothing,” he admits, and the calmness and the finality in his voice sends a chill down his voice.  “He deserved to die. For what he did. Humiliating Asif like that. Humiliating me.  He deserved to die. And he should have died.”

 “But he didn't, did he. He didn't die. Because you completely underestimated him. Two weeks before, he would have just let it happen. He wanted to die himself and was looking for a way for it to play out. But suddenly he had something to live for. A future he was looking forward to. And that's why he held on. That's why you failed. That's a bitter pill to swallow, isn't it? That you failed not once, but twice.”

 She can tell he's not sure how to react. He's trying to figure out if what she's saying is the truth or just part of the game they're playing. Truth be told, it's both. A way of allowing Jason to think there's nothing out of the ordinary, and a way of her bearing her soul. This kid is her confessional. Whether he realizes it or not.

 “You almost took everything away from me. And now it's time for me take everything away from you.”

****

  The gun is light in her hand; magazine long discarded. Yet part of her wishes that that one bullet still remained in the chamber.  The rage and the sadness so strong and consuming that she would have had no problem pulling the trigger.

 It is placed underneath Fahrad's chin; a kill shot that she'd learned from Nik.  One centimetre to the left and she was hitting the femoral artery and he'd be left to die an excruciating death as he bled out on the sidewalk. Straight up and back towards the throat, his demise would be instantaneous. Painless. Part of her said that that was too good for him. After everything he'd done...everything he had put them through...he deserved as much suffering as possible.  But the other part...the human and rational part...reminded her that this was just a kid. One that had grown up in poverty and subjected to neglect and inhumane living conditions.  And the need to impress Asif directly came from his upbringing. Or lack thereof.

 There's trust in his eyes. Trust that she probably didn't deserve. And for a brief moment she sees his own glitter of humanity. That if given the chance to thrive, would lead him to making better choices. To wanting more for himself.

 “Okay...that's enough...” Jason steps in now, and she's finally able to get a good look at him.  Determining that he is unarmed and will no doubt use the gun that she had on her to take his shot. That had been the plan; let him think he had the upper hand, and then totally turn the tables. “...there's no need for this...you said your piece...leave the kid alone...”

 'She's right,” Farhad speaks up. Fuelling the fire. “I do deserve it.  I feel nothing. I felt nothing when I shot him and I feel nothing, listening to her sad story. Are you going to cry, lady? Are you going to break down in tears over what I did? Because I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

 She presses the gun further into his chin. The truth of the words sting; he is probably telling the truth. He had felt nothing. And feels nothing at this very moment.

 “You shut your goddamn mouth,”  Jason orders, and then turns to Esme. Voice quiet, his smile comforting. “The kid isn't going to die today. Now give me the gun..”

 She puts up some light resistance, then reluctantly hands it over.  She remains calm. Stoned face. Yet deep within her chest, her heart hammers wildly.

 *****

 “You were right you know,” he says, as he paces back in forth in front of her.  “When you said that Tyler staying in a different place when you got here was a mistake. It would have made you a much easier target.  You would have been all alone in that house with no one to protect you. Do you really think the armed guards would have been able to do it? They couldn't even stop you from leaving the place this morning. You would have been a sitting duck. Which would have made things way too simple. Which isn't the way we like to do things.”

 “Who is 'we' Jason? I saw the pictures. The ones under your mattress in your hotel room.”

 “Why am I not surprised you went there. I had a feeling you would. I made sure that people saw Farhad and I together. I knew they wouldn't keep their mouths shut. “

 “I had nothing to do with this,” Farhad pipes up. “He gave me money. Said he needed me to meet with someone. To pretend like we were friends in the market. But I had nothing to do with this. What is wrong with you, man? She's a woman. Why would you do this?”

 He ignores the kid.  “I knew you would head there, Esme. You can take the girl out of the job, but not the job out of the clear. You're clever. Way more clever than you give yourself credit for. Old habits die hard and I knew once you thought something up, you wouldn't resist just jumping right back into the game.”

 “Just how much of this is your idea?” she inquires. “The threats to Ovi? The letters? The phone calls? The dead animals on his doorstep.”

 “There were other people for those jobs. There's a lot of us. Hiding in plain sight. Where you least expect it. My job was a little bit harder. Because I had to fool Nik first. It wasn't easy, you know. Getting one over on her. But my people  have people and they were able to make me look real good on paper. So good she couldn't resist. After that I just had to wait. Just sit back until news got to Tyler that Ovi was in trouble.  We all know the bond he has with that boy.  We knew he wouldn't be able to keep away.”

 “So why not take your shot? All the chances you had within the past two weeks to take him down. Why didn't you do it?”

 “Oh come on,” he chuckles. “You're a smart girl. You know how these games are played. We had to get inside his head first. We had to stir the pot, so to speak. Remember when you said that the bad guys would strike where they know would hurt him the most? Well that's you.  You're the one thing in this world that he loves. The person that came along and rescued him and gave him another chance.  So what better way to get to him then going through you?”

 “This is crazy,” Farhad frets.  “Don't do this. She's a woman. Just let her go. There's no reason to do this.”

 “Now I know what you're going to say,” Jason continues. “You're going to say that your little girl is the one thing that he loves most in this world. Even more than he loves you. But even we won't stoop that low. A baby is completely off limits. After all, what has she done to deserve something bad happening to her? It's not her fault who her father is.”

 “You're insane,” Esme informs him, stoic despite the anxiety and the nausea surging through her. “You'll never get away with this. Nik knows. She knows you're here and that I'm the one that asked you to come here. Anything happens to me, she will know it was you. And there will be nowhere you can hide. She will find you. And Tyler will find you. And you'll be praying it's Nik that finds you first.”

 “That's a bridge I'll cross when I get to it. Bridge? Get it.” he laughs. “How does it feel. Esme? To be here.  To be in the spot where your husband nearly died. Where he should have died.  How does it feel? Hurts like hell, doesn't it. Reliving it all.  It's kind of ironic that you'll be the one that ends up dying here, don't you think? Alone. With no one to comfort you like you did with him.”

 “I think you're fucking crazy,” she declares. “I think you're certifiably insane and that you're not thinking things through. You won't get away. There will be nowhere you can hide. He has found people bigger and better than you and they didn't live to tell about it. So how does that make you feel?”

 “See, that's what I like about you. How feisty you are. I can see why he fell in love with you. I definitely don't blame him for that. I think you're personally too good for him, but that's just my humble opinion.  Do you remember how you said that the bad guys would try and break him ? Make him vulnerable? That's when I knew you were smarter than you looked. That you aren't just a pretty face.  So tell me...” he calmly presses the barrel of the gun to her forehead. “...how does it feel to know that you're his weakness? That you're possibly the only person that effectively bring Tyler Rake down? Doesn't it give you some sense of power? Knowing how easy it is going to be to destroy him? There has to be some kind of perverse pleasure in that.”

 “You don't want to do this, Jason. This is the last thing you want to.  It won't end well for you. You know that.”

 “Maybe. But I’ll die knowing that I brought him down. What better revenge than taking away the one person that loves him the most? That saved him. Quite the love story if you ask me. Two broken people finding one another when they least expected it. Losing you will make him vulnerable. Which will make him weak. Which will make him an easy target. He won't be thinking right. Maybe he'll go back to the pills and the drinking again. That would be a nice touch. That would make killing him even easier. So again...tell me...” he places his finger on the trailer. “...are you ready to die for him?”

 “I don't know, Jason,” she smirks. “ Are you?”

  *****

 One shot. That's all it takes to bring him down. The nine millimetre round passing through the right side of his throat and passing through to the other side. Tyler doesn't hesitate pulling the trigger; he'll slip the magazine back into the Glock and return one to the chamber and tell Nik that it was a clean kill. That Jason had a gun to Esme's head and was going to kill her. It was a simple explanation. One that she would buy thanks to the cell phone in Esme's bag, recording the entire confrontation.   There's no adrenaline rush that comes with killing now.  He hasn't felt that in a long time; since way before the incident in Dhaka last year. Taking a life had become easy. Never blinking, never flinching. Just doing what he had to do to survive. Or help others survive.

 The shot hasn't killed him. Through and through's rarely do unless they hit an artery on the way out.  And he's writhing on the ground in agony when Tyler approaches, the soles of his boots passing over the layers of dirt and debris that line on the bridge.  He's bleeding out; death will be slow. Agonizing. And he hopes that kid is feeling even a fraction of what he'd felt. When he'd been dragging himself across the cement, attempting to staunch the flow of blood from his own throat, growing weaker by the moment,  choking on his blood.  Those seconds had felt like hours.

  Time passes at an excruciatingly slow pace when you're waiting to die.

 “You okay?” he asks his wife, as she leans back against the railing of the bridge. Jason's blood splattered across her face and over her clothing.

 She nods, eyes riveted on the suffering figure moaning in agony on the pavement in front of her.

 Tyler stands over him, placing a boot on his chest. “I told you not to fuck with me, didn't I. I told you not to go near my wife. But you couldn't resist, could you. You couldn't resist pissing me off.”

 The younger man attempts a response. But it's nothing but a gurgle. Rivers of bright red blood pouring from the sides of his mouth.

 Tyler chooses mercy over vengeance.  And puts another round between his eyes. It's then that he realizes Farhad is still there; eyes wide in shock at what had played out around him.  He isn’t so big and brave now. With none of his friends to back him, without the safety net of Asif and his hired thugs.  “Where the fuck do you think you're going?” he growls, and advances on him. “Do you remember me, you little shit? The one you shot in the fucking neck a year ago? Yeah, you remember me, don't you.”

 “I had nothing to do with this I swear,” the kid is visibly trembling. A far cry from the little hard ass wannabe that had ambushed him in the alley a year ago. Or when he'd pulled a bitch move and shot him from behind. “I wasn't going to hurt her. I was just here to talk. I...”

 Tyler places the barrel of his gun against Farhad's forehead.

Revenge is a fickle beast. One moment you are on the side of forgiveness, the next you're willing to take a life.   His eyes never leave the kid's'; watching the way the younger man violently trembles and tears fill his eyes.  A  satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when he realizes that she's actually made the kid piss himself.  

 He holsters his gun. And pulling the knife from the pocket of his pants, uses it to slice through the zip ties binding Fahrad's wrists together. “Go,” he orders.  “Get the hell out of here. Before I change my mind.”

 “But you...I...”

 “I said go!” he barks, and the kid gives a startled blink and then turns on his heel.

 Tyler's never seen someone run that fast.

 “You sure you're okay?” he asks his wife, as he joins her on the sidewalk.  Using the front of his own t-shirt own clear the blood from her face and neck. “Probably stinks like hell,” he says in way of apology. “It's hot as fuck here today. But it's all I have so...”

 She gives a tiny smile of appreciation, her eyes locked on his as he tenderly cleans her face.  Such a juxtaposition; stone cold killer one minute, caring and doting husband the next.

 “We need to move,” he tells her. “The bridge will be opening back up soon. It's going to be crawling for cops. We'll find a place to lie low until Yaz comes for us. We...”

 Her lower lip begins to tremble, and she draws in a shaky breath as it all becomes too much. The memories of a year ago. The extent of the danger she'd not only put herself in, but also their unborn baby.  And she gives a choked sob as she drops her head to his chest, arms circling his waist.

 He holds her and lets her cry; body wracking sobs that he can feel to his very soul. All of the pain and the heartache of the past year flowing out of her all at once. The nightmare that she'd witnessed -and living with its consequences- finally coming to an end.  It's a relief; to have that weight off of your shoulders. He knows far too well what it's like to hold onto the pain and allow it to drag you down.  And he tangles his fingers in her hair and holds her head tightly to him, his other arm curling around her waist.  Feeling the tears soaking through his t-shirt and the way the shivering finally begins to subside.

 “It's okay now,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple before backing away and taking her face in his hands.  “It's over. You can let it go now. You need to let it go.”

 “I want to go home,” she sniffles. “I just want to go home.”

 He knows it's impossible. That there's still people out there looking for them. That the troubles will never fully come to an end. But he can give her a home. In a new country. A new place.  

 He can give her a future.

 ****

 “So what now?” Yaz asks, a half an hour into their flight.  

 Tyler had been dozing off; leaning back against the wall of the helicopter, legs stretched out. He's exhausted. Emotionally. His brain tired from reliving the day he nearly lost his life. From the flood of memories that had come surging back with a vengeance.  From the stress and the rage and the worry that been eating him alive all day.  Esme is fast asleep beside him; curled up in a fetal position with her head resting on his thigh,  Yaz's jacket keeping her warm. He hasn't let her out of his sight since they left the bridge; keeping a protective hold on her, even now.  His hand on the top of her head, softly stroking her hair.

 “I have no idea,” he admits.

 “So no going back to Australia?”

 “That ship has sailed, mate. It's time to move on to bigger and better things.”

 “So this is it, yeah? Your last job?”

 “Suppose to be.”

 He's surprised that he's used those words.  It was only intended to be a one off.  His last mission. But he'd been surprised at how much he actually missed it. The surge of energy and power you get when going into a dangerous situation; relying on your skill and your wits to get yourself and others out alive.  He'd felt in complete control for the first time in a long time. Confident. As if the old Tyler was making a permanent reappearance instead of a temporary one.

 Maybe there was a way. Of safely balancing two vastly different lives. One in which he was a husband and a father. Another where he was a soldier for hire.

 “Do you think it's over?”” Yaz asks. “All this stuff with Ovi? What Jason did...”

 “He said there's more of them out there just like him. I doubt he was running the whole show himself.  That would have been too much ground to cover for one person.”

 “Kind of fucked up, huh? The extents he was willing go to get to you.”

 “Yeah...” Tyler agrees. “...just a little fucked up.”

 Esme stirs; mumbling in her sleep and rubbing her cheek against his thigh. And he runs his palm over her hair and down onto her hip, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles.  

 “I don't think it's over,” he says.  “This bullshit with Ovi. I still think there's someone out there  just waiting for their chance. I've made a lot of enemies over the years. It's foolish to think that they won't come after me.”

 “Not if they can't find you,” Yaz points out.

 “They'll find me. They always do.”

 “So what then? Do you spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder? Waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

 “No,” he says. “I spend it protecting my family.”

 No matter what it takes.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #i found

[kokkuri3]

I think VnC’s treatment of female characters is better than in PH, where most of them were props, tools to further the development of males, *coughLacieyoudeservedbetter*, tools to humanise the males *coughAdayoucan’tfixhimwithlove, endlessly forgiving and impossibly saintly *coughreallyAlyssyou’rejustgonnaforgiveJacklikethatyouarenotangryatall??*, amongst other problematic tropes.

VnC’s treatment of female characters is absolutely better than PH’s-- in fact, I’d say VnC was one of the few shounen manga to consistently treat its female characters with the same passion and respect as its male ones. One thing I say often is that VnC feels as thought it was written with Mochizuki having acknowledged PH’s problems (the complete lack of nonwhite characters, the continual mistreatment of female characters, the at times facetious treatment of issues such as incest or pedophilia which is... Not A Fan) and to that effect, I think she is making a deliberate effort to make multiple female characters with their own arcs which exist outside of men, who have important relationships with other women, who are capable of agency in the same capacity as their male counterparts.

This post isn’t really about VnC though so I’m not gonna sing its praises much anymore. I’ve talked before about how, despite being written by a woman, despite clearly acknowledging misogyny as a chronic problem among violent men PH is... not especially self aware when it comes to the misogyny of its own narrative.

I’ve made my thoughts on Lacie clear before (see here) and particularly how I believe her treatment was one of the times where PH’s treatment of women was particularly remarkable in that it’s good, despite her arc being drenched in misogynistic abuse and violence. I absolutely wish that the atrocities pinned on Lacie being not her fault was made more clear (aside from what I said in the post, and Oz saying that Lacie would never desire for the destruction of the world she loved) but I don’t think her writing itself was misogynistic-- I’d even go as far as to say it was feminist, though, obviously, I’m open to disagreement.

What most certainly does piss me off, however, is the writing of Ada’s arc. Yesterday I joked about Ada being the ‘anti-Lacie,’ and while it was a joke, I still intended some seriousness with it. Unlike Lacie, who was forced to constantly reevaluate her morals and the positions of her and her loved ones as a person whose existence was an inherent sin and who was abused throughout her life, Ada’s arc is built around the fact that she has never had to question anything. Similarly, while Lacie’s arc is about how she sought her own agency despite being surrounded by and allowed only those who were at best complacent in her suffering, Ada’s arc is about how... she continually sought out and apologized for a misogynistic predator despite being surrounded by better options.

The gender of the Core of the Abyss is something which I think warrants a separate post, but the official translation refers to the Core as being female, and for nearly the entire story she takes the form of a girl. Lacie reached out to an entity referred to and most often perceived as female, sought to understand her, and was abused as a specific consequence of this. Ada, meanwhile, made no real attempts at sympathy for her female counterparts. She never sought to question the circumstances of Noise, or Echo, or their relationship with Vincent. She gave forgiveness for crimes she had not been affected by nor did she even understand; her defense of Vincent was done not out of concern for Noise’s psyche but out of unquestioned pity for her abuser.

Ada’s arc bothers me for its utter lack of agency. She was a teenaged girl, expected to fix a predatory, abusive man in his twenties, and throughout her arc she is given no real means of choosing other options nor protecting herself. Her decision to defend a predator was not even an educated one; she simply did not know. Nor did she ever really come to understand anything about Vincent, aside from brief glimpses into his past. Ada is dragged around by the plot, pursuing an abuser she did not know was an abuser yet still felt sure she could heal, being forbidden from choice-- where she was not denied choice in the sense that she lacked the knowledge to make one, she was denied choice via other characters forbidding her. She was not allowed to protect Vincent though she wanted to because Vincent felt it was too dangerous to allow her to, she was not allowed to remain beside her friends and family though she wanted to because they felt it was too dangerous to allow her to, she wasn’t allowed to stay with Vincent because it was too dangerous, she wasn’t allowed to see him again because it was too dangerous... and she’s never given the choice to do anything but go along with it.

Alyss’s forgiveness of Jack is... a more complicated issue. That Ada “forgive” Vincent-- along with many of their other interactions, I might add-- felt utterly meaningless to me. Ada had never really perceived Vincent as performing a slight against her, being perfectly willing to assign any violence he committed against her as either her own fault, or part of his mental illness, thus Not His Fault. That Alyss forgive Jack, who was violent towards her, who she understood as victimizing her and others... I don’t like it, exactly, but at least it’s not the same.

I’m not sure “forgive” is even the correct word for what she did-- she acknowledged him, and she was gentle, but she never told Jack that she forgave him. Vincent’s dialogue during Retrace CIII supplements this in saying he suspects that Alyss’s feelings for Jack are the same as his own.

Vincent feels unable to either forgive Jack nor reject him entirely, feeling that he had done too much good for him to ever really hate him. Alyss, similarly, felt too strong a love for Jack to reject him outright. She never expressed sympathy for his actions, nor did she make any attempts to defend him. There was no misunderstanding on Alyss’s part on whether her love for Jack was unhealthy, but she loved him nonetheless. When she finally “finds” him, she offers no words of kindness. She simply expressed her gratitude in having done so before calling him a hopelessly lonely man, making no further attempts at even acknowledging him.

Of course, there is the inherent misogyny of a character arc about a young girl infatuated with an adult man, to the point of destroying her other relationships in pursuit of it. That Alyss was deliberately isolated and that Jack be the only person aside from the other Alice and the Core of Abyss-- two entities that cannot be meaningfully separated from herself-- is an obvious contributor, but that does not erase the problematic aspects of her arc. Then there’s the matter of Alyss’s wish to die being the only one treated as though it was a necessary evil, as opposed to a reflection of the individual’s personal instability that should be addressed through supporting them as opposed to killing them. It’s sort of an unfair double standard, and that the plot make Alyss’s death a necessary evil is a matter of author choice, not something inherent to the work.

On the topic of other instances of misogynistic writing in PH as a whole, there’s the matter of Alice and Sharon’s arc. While I don’t think either arc is in itself misogynistic, both characters are totally ignored in favor of their male counterparts. Despite Alice being one of the most important characters in the series, she has almost no narration and is frequently characterized as, to quote a friend of mine, a “feral animal.” She’s not given the same emotional or psychological depth as Oz or Gil, despite having around the same number of appearances and being the plot’s catalyst. Sharon has her own arc, theoretically, but we only ever see it within the context of Break or Reim despite being more of a main character than the latter. That Sharon spend entire volumes not appearing a single time is a recurring joke. A major part of her characterization-- that she feel insecure in relationships due to her halted aging-- is not revealed until the last chapter of the comic. Her arc ends with her marrying to a character who... I wouldn’t have been upset if the two of them had had any real interactions outside of Break, but they didn’t. There’s no inherent problem with their relationship except it’s boring and rushed.

Then there’s the matter of the sheer number of female versus male characters whose purpose in the plot is to die violently-- the Flower Girl, Vanessa Nightray, Bernice Nightray, Miranda Barma, Mary, etc. All of these characters did little or nothing to actually progress the plot, and all are murdered by a male character with the exception of the Flower Girl (who is a sex worker in the anime adaptation, and while I don’t know the canonicity of that, I feel it worth mentioning). 

Ultimately, PH suffers a lot for Mochizuki’s internalized misogyny. Her narrative seems over eager to forgive perpetrators of misogynistic violence, and in many ways over eager to characterize sympathetic men as misogynists. A Pandora Hearts without its themes of misogyny seems... nearly incomprehensible, though that’s in large part because of how meticulous the narrative as a whole is. The improvements Mochizuki has made subsequently, though, are noticeable and greatly appreciated.

#pandora hearts #answers #gisellehexen89 #OP I am you #ph spoilers #abuse ment #This is REALLY long so I put it under a readmore #Pandora Hearts huh.......... #ph #mochijun #animanga

[dwellordream]

I’ve been reading haunt/hunt and I absolutely love how you wrote Nell and her story as well as how you flesh out all the female characters in your fic! So far chapter 45 probably made me the most emotional that I have a lot of feels about it. I’d love a Director’s Commentary and your thoughts writing it, especially the dream Nell has about Bethany and the whole grief and rage and pain that comes with it. Also, Walda’s side during her conversation with Nell would be interesting.. thank you!

thank you! I really dreaded all of Nell’s chapters at the Twins because I’d already gotten some backlash over the plot that culminated with Robb’s ‘death’ and her ending up a captive, and I figured frustration was just going to build the longer I spent writing Nell basically treading water at the Twins trying to figure out how she was going to escape. ultimately I’m pleased with how these chapters turned out but at the time I was always a bit anxious and tense when writing and posting them, because I was worried it was just going to be people in the comments going ‘this sucks. why am I reading this, again?’ (not that there isn’t room for criticism of those plot points, I think the pacing of Haunt/Hunt is a bit janky overall, but... not all that much I can do about that at this point haha) I knew the major setpiece of the chapter would be the sept at the Twins, the same one where Edmure and Roslin were just married, the same one that at the Freys presumably pray in... septs are always foreign places for Nell because she wasn’t brought up in that faith, never had a septa, and there was never a sept at the Dreadfort or Barrowton.  the obvious contrast here is that the sept is a holy place but it’s also at the site of a massive betrayal, and in the midst of this service Nell is plotting and scheming. there’s also the fact that this takes place shortly after Joffrey’s death, and so the Freys are mourning one boy-king after having just slaughtered another. Nell is so shocked and in grief that she can’t even summon up much triumph at Joffrey’s death, as she acknowledges that they will just crown Tommen instead, who is just a child being manipulated by the adults around him. I think it also highlights a main point of the fic- Haunt/Hunt is not a retelling of the entire ASOIAF story, it’s just narrowly focused on the North and the prominent characters there. I feel bad sometimes because I sometimes think readers are expecting me to suddenly pivot to characters like Dany or Cersei or the Martells, and while obviously their actions have consequences for everyone in Westeros, they’re not really the focus here. finally we get to the convo between Fat Walda and Nell. Walda is obviously very wary of Nell, given recent events and the fact that she’s married to Nell’s father. Nell sees Walda dressed in Bolton colors and thinks about how she used to take such pride in her house, and how when she first met Robb she was pretty snotty and felt him childish and beneath her. she feels horrific guilt over even being married to Robb in the first place, wondering if he’d married someone else he might still be alive and winning the war. she also feels so lost without the one person in her life besides Dana who she felt like really chose her and loved her in spite of her flaws.  Nell and Robb’s love story is really crucial to the story as a whole and it obviously still plays a major role even after he’s dead.  we then flash back to Walda, who, despite everything that’s happened and her torn loyalties, does genuinely sympathize with Nell and promises to keep Lysara safe. Nell is less than impressed with this, but does warn Walda about Ramsay- although it’s not just from concern for Walda, but fear for Lysara’s safety. she also warns Walda that Roose loves no one and nothing but himself, and whether he treats her well as his wife or not, he can’t be relied upon to keep her safe from Ramsay. Walda does, to her credit, take Nell seriously, and reveals her pregnancy, while confessing that Roose hasn’t, in her opinion, been all that cruel to her, adding that he is a much finer match than she could have ever hoped for as a Frey. many people acknowledge that canonically Walda seems quite pleased with Roose as a husband, praising him in her letters and seeming eager to have children with him and rule the Dreadfort. I wanted to keep some of that while acknowledging that, well, this Walda was also friends with his daughter... who’s just been betrayed and imprisoned and had her husband murdered... and is about to have her daughter taken from her.  Roose isn’t a good or kind person and I think Walda recognizes that while at the same time feeling that, well, he may be a murderer and a rapist and a traitor, but he’s not constantly bullying and insulting her, he doesn’t beat her, and any children she has with him will have a claim to the at-present most powerful house in the North. so is she in love with him? no. but she is used to having to be very pragmatic, given her upbringing. jumping to the dream sequence (actually the last time we’ve seen Bethany in a dream in this fic, I believe) it’s kind of a call to arms? it’s just the culmination of all Nell’s rage and pain and sorrow, triggered by the new loss of her daughter. she dreams she is back in her mother’s bedchambers in the Dreadfort, watching her waste away from illness, and for the first time she really goes off on dream!Bethany, voicing the pain and fury she still feels at being left motherless. to have Bethany die after promising Nell that they’d be happy and go live with her aunt if Roose died in the Greyjoy Rebellion was especially brutal for her. Bethany apologizes to her- something that never happened in real life, as Nell never had any adults apologize to her for her upbringing or the trauma she experienced- and encourages Nell to keep fighting and not give up, pointing out that she tried to teach her to be strong and determined, even in the face of evil.  to be honest, “I died for nothing, aye,” Bethany acknowledges faintly, too shrouded in smoke to be visible clearly to Nell now, although her voice is longer than before. “Yet before I died I lived for you. I lived for a child I thought could be more than the sum of all my rage and pain and regret. A child I thought could grow into a woman who might do things I had only dreamed of. And I have been wrong on many counts, my Nell, but never that one.”  is one of my favorite parts of the entire fic. I think the ‘oh, *insert character* died for nothing’ or ‘the moral of the story is the world sucks and kindness is weakness’ is something that gets thrown around a lot in the ASOIAF fandom, maybe due to the influence of the TV show, maybe not. but I really disagree with that. for all the horrible things that happen in the series I think the ending will be one of hope, not defeat or ‘accepting the world as it is’. change can happen and it can be positive, and not all sacrifices are in vain. Ned Stark didn’t ‘die for nothing’- he died to save Sansa’s life and he taught his children really important things about respect for others and keeping your promises and protecting those weaker than you. we see his influence in Robb always trying to do what’s best for his people, Sansa being kind to others in spite of her suffering, Arya still defending the weak even at risk to herself, Bran trying to use his powers for good, Jon always trying to make the hard but fair decision at the Wall. they may not always make the right choices and they do fail, frequently, but the point is to try, not to always be victorious.  in the same token, Robb didn’t ‘die for nothing’ in this fic- he dies fighting a war to return home and help his people, he dies with Nell and Lysara’s names on his lips, he dies always trying to protect the ones he loves, and I think that’s the actual point, not that he was ‘stupid’ or that Roose ‘outplayed him’. life isn’t a game and it’s not supposed to be treated as such. what matters is what Robb did while he was alive, the people he helped and the lives he changed. Nell is 100% a better person for her relationship with him and the growth she went through as she matured and took on more responsibilities. she is 100% a kinder and more compassionate person because of her relationship with the Starks, and Dana, and her ladies at Riverrun. she had to choose to change and step into her role as queen, but Robb really gave her a lot of confidence in herself and her abilities.  so yeah, I think the overall message of chapter 45 and the fic in general is “it doesn’t matter how you die, it’s how you lived.” Robb’s death doesn’t wipe out everything he did before that. the loss of Lysara doesn’t erase the love Nell feels for her. even when things look dire and life is shitty you can still take it one day at a time and keep striving for something better. Nell has to recognize that while Bethany’s death was painful and tragic and unexpected... she did help shape Nell into the woman she would become and her ultimate wish was not that Nell would be exactly like her, but that Nell would be better than her.

#haunt/hunt #ask #anon #ask game