#while still desperately wanting them. the feeling of worthlessness and self isolation with or without being dead. and that could go for

[b-303]

Starbee is such a funny ship to me they do not work in 95% of the media they're from and like 70% of them if ppl ship them I'd probably think its just Wrong tbh....But when it hits....oh it hits too hard it makes me ill. They make me ill. I hate those old fuckers

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Deprived

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

For BTHB: Sensory Deprivation. This is Elze'ith in a very dark place (literally and figuratively); take care while reading!

Lord Denholm makes Elze'ith repent.

Contains: Captivity/gilded cage, intimate whump, vampire whumper/bloodbag whumpee, magic, sensory deprivation, isolation, dissociation, implied/referenced noncon, hallucinations, manipulation, severe self-worth issues

~~~

“I think you would be well served by some time alone. A chance to think about your actions today, and what transpired as a result.”

There was nothing. No light, no sound, no sensation. No sense of time, no awareness of his own body. There was only the dark, so complete that Elze’ith felt like he was choking on it. 

He had panicked, when Lord Denholm yanked him and Altair apart. His thoughts had been fragmented and messy, but he knew that he didn’t want to leave that wonderful, warm embrace. And he knew that Lord Denholm was seething, angry in a way that he almost never was. But there was nothing he could do in the face of his Lord. He could only let Lord Denholm drag him by the arm down into the dungeons, could only be shoved bodily into a small cell, could only let the shadows envelop him until he knew nothing else.

And he had screamed. He had cried. Begged without words, when he realized Lord Denholm was leaving him alone. He couldn’t bear to be alone. Couldn’t bear to leave Altair alone. Not after everything. Not after hurting Altair, not without making it clear how sorry he was, not without making it right. Not after feeling that love and forgiveness, impossible and divine. But his desperate calls had gone unanswered, and he was left alone, alone, utterly alone.

The fear became all-consuming. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be alone. He had always had someone. His family, the families he served, his partners. He didn’t know how to be if he was alone. Didn’t know who he was. Loneliness was complete and utter hell.

So he shrank in on himself. Made himself as small as he felt. Gave himself over to the dark. It was all he knew how to do.

Eventually he lost track of the feeling of his own hands wrapped around his knees, the tears running down his face. Though he tried to move, he couldn’t tell if he did, if he even still had a body to move. Maybe he was only a consciousness, lost in the dark. A phantom, a ghost, an echo of suffering and regret.

And maybe that was for the best. His hands had hurt the person he loved most. His body sometimes struggled to follow even the most simple of commands. If he couldn’t do anything right with his physical form, did he even deserve to have it?

He didn’t. So of course he would be deprived of it. He sat with that knowledge, let it sink into him. He was only worth what he could do for other people. And if he couldn’t do right by them, he deserved to be cast aside.

Maybe someone else would have been comforted by the complete, eclipsing darkness. The lack of sound, the lack of touch, the lack of anything but himself. And there was comfort in the knowledge that he couldn’t hurt anyone here. But he couldn’t help but silently beg for someone to find him, someone to get him out, because he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be alone for so long. He was breaking, or he was already broken, but he was coming apart and he was so scared and he needed relief.

Sensation came back slowly. It started as whispers so faint he wasn’t even sure they were there. In a span of time that could have been minutes or could have been years, they became louder, more distinct. He heard Altair, voice cold, professing his mistrust. Townsfolk calling him a witch, saying he was more trouble than he was worth. Lord Denholm’s voice twisted in anger, calling him a worthless disappointment. Altair wishing they had never met. 

And he clung to them, because they reminded him that he was not alone, reminded him that he was real, and that was more precious than anything could have been. Even if the words were cruel. Because they were right. He was worthless, was untrustworthy, was too much trouble.

At some point, the sensation became physical. Phantom hands trailing over his body. Intangible lips kissing all of his wounds that had never scarred. Unseen forces pressing inside him, caressing organs and bones and those sensitive spots that he hated having attention drawn to. The reminder that he even had a body that could be touched was terrifying, and the intermittent onslaught made him want to buck and writhe and keen if he had any control of himself left. But he didn’t, so he just endured as he was ravaged again and again and again.

He wasn’t sure which was worse. The sounds and the touches were hell in their own right, too much, too cruel, too overwhelming. But the darkness, the silence, the absence, made him forget that he had ever been real, had ever been known. And that was abjectly, unspeakably terrifying in a way that nothing else was.

And then, after an impossibly long time, the darkness parted, like a curtain being drawn away. It was still dark, he still couldn’t see, but the darkness was different in a way he couldn’t explain. There were hands on him again, somehow more solid than anything he had ever felt. The touch was so gentle, so kind, and he found himself frozen, unsure of what was happening, what he should do.

Then pain exploded in his neck, piercing and bright and excruciating. He gasped as he felt familiar teeth sink into his flesh, as his blood and magic and very being was painfully pulled away from him. It was agony and it was exquisite, the most beautiful thing he had ever felt, because the familiar pain meant he was real, that someone else wanted him. He sighed, sinking into the embrace, finally feeling something akin to relief amidst all of the pain.

Eventually the piercing fangs in his throat retracted. He could feel blood trailing down his neck. A hand cradled his face, and he leaned desperately into the touch, even though it was cold fire against his skin.

“My light.” The voice, for all its softness, was impossibly loud. He flinched, a low whine starting in his throat. But that only hurt more, so he cut himself off. 

“Oh, I know.” He thought maybe he saw a flicker of a smile. “Have you had enough? Have you come to regret what you’ve done?”

He nodded furiously against the hand holding him, even though the motion made the world spin. Honestly, he could barely remember what he had done this time. But the only thing he felt was remorse. And he would do anything to be let out of the dark. He couldn’t bear another moment on his own.

“Good.” The voice was low, pleased. “That’s good, my light. That’s just what I was hoping for.”

A flood of emotions overcame him. The sheer, overwhelming weight of everything he was suddenly feeling made him collapse into a sobbing heap. Everything hurt, but he had made it through. He had done something well. He was being praised again. He might be worth something.

The arms around him swept him into an embrace. The contact hurt and yet was the most comforting thing he had ever felt. He let himself be held as he cried, chest heaving, breaths choked. A tear or two might have slipped down his face, but no more; he wondered if his body could still form them, after everything. But that didn’t matter, because he was real and alive and being treated gently, and he was so grateful.

“Shh. I’ve got you now. I’m going to take care of you.” He became aware of movement. He became aware of light, low and flickering but still present, and it burned his eyes and made him clench them shut but it was still there, still achingly beautiful. Lord Denholm’s familiar arms around him held him so close as he was carried away from the dark, away from the nothing, towards something better. All Elze’ith could think was that he would do anything to stay in that embrace.

[bookshelfdreams]

Hi, what are your thoughts about all these fine people drinking when they are separated from those they care about? For me it's sad on a level I can't quite grasp but seems to be connected to how I felt during the past two years (even though I only drink when I have company).

hi! haha, i didn't think anyone would actually take me up on this, thank you <3 Original post by @amuseoffyre here

Throughout the show, alcohol is used as a shorthand for loneliness. Of course there's social drinking; but if a character over-indulges, it's usually to show they feel isolated and fail to make connections.

The very first person we ever see drunk is, iirc, Mary in ep4, which is an interesting choice considering this is a show about pirates.

We only see her take a few sips, but when she speaks and stands up it's pretty obvious that she's rather tipsy. This is of course a comedy stereotype (day-drinking wine mom lol) but it's not played for laughs. She's sitting at a table with Stede but they're not enjoying a glass of wine together; she's drinking because she's frustrated and isolated in her marriage (she and Stede can't communicate etc etc).

The other, noticeably drunk person is, of course Calico Jack, who I don't thing we ever see sober (only hungover). When he first appears he can barely stand straight, and it only gets vaguely better; he is always drinking. Even at breakfast.

Now the interesting thing is here, while that could technically qualify as social drinking - neither Jack nor Ed drink alone! - it's still in line with my thesis. watch me make this work

If this show has a central theme, I would say it is the discovery and acceptance of the authentic self. It is about playing roles and conforming to expectations; and how, to achive happiness, you have to break through that. Only once you find, accept and love yourself can you build the life you truly want.

And alcohol is an obstacle to that, quite literally. It lowers inhibitions; it makes you do dumb shit; it changes how you behave and how you are perceived. Calico Jack is unable to function without it; his true, authentic self is buried under alcoholism at all times. As this really smart meta said, he may be fun at parties but you don't want to be there for the hangover.

Jack is completely hidden behind the pirate persona. Overindulging in drink is a shorthand for this lifestyle, and by drawing Ed into that he's drawing him away from the people who genuinely care about him. But he's not offering a genuine connection in return; he says it himself.

"Pirates don't have friends. We're all just in various stages of fucking each other over."

The image, the persona is what's important. Ed may have built relationships with people who care for him, but none of them are fearsome, badass pirates. They're losers and nerds, and they don't make him look cool, and are thus worthless (or that's what Jack desperately needs Ed to believe).

Something similar happens with Stede at Mary's art show in ep10, when all those men buy him drinks and want him to tell stories. Again, there's the overindulgence: look at all those mugs on the table.

For reference, this is what the table looks like when they invite Stede over:

And then this exchange happens. Someone: "And what's Blackbeard like?" Stede: "He's absolutely lovely."

"Oh, and of course, a bloodthirsty killer!"

They, too, don't care about the real Edward Teach, they care about the badass pirate Blackbeard. They don't care about Stede's real experience, they care about the story they want him to be for them. This time, the persona is projected onto the person from outside, instead of built up and maintained by the person themselves, but the message is still the same:

To conform to expectations is to be isolated.

To not be your true, authentic self is to be isolated.

To be your true, authentic self, however, can be hard, and scary, and painful. The persona is there for a reason; it lets you hide and deny all your insecurities and vulnerabilities. It lets you forget that you long to be loved. It protects you from the worst pain of all: rejection.

Alcohol is just another crutch to hide your true, authentic, messy and uncool self. The self you have to expose to get people to connect with you, even at the risk of rejection.

This is why it makes me sad that the sweet lads take refuge in alcohol when they're seperated from the people they care about :(

[redphlox]

Tenko's tears; Touya's wounded inner child

As I've mentioned before, crying serves various purposes, two of which include emotional regulation and forming social connections. Tears signal "I'm sad and I need help" and usually elicit concern from others. But, for Touya and Tenko, tears didn't fulfill these needs. When Tenko cried, the adults around him tried to distract him from his pain or change how he responded to his abuse instead of defending him or confronting his father Kotaro. They meant well, but in the end it didn't help Tenko and he felt alone. No one validated his pain; he was seen, but he wasn't helped. The same thing happened to Touya, who was seen crying, and crying, and crying, but his parents refused to acknowledge the root cause of his pain because it would mean facing their own mistakes. His tears, his cries for help, never got him the help he needed and never made him feel better.

Even as adults, Dabi and Shigaraki weren't listened to because they didn't display socially acceptable feelings such as sorrow or regret, and they weren't dealing with their trauma in a socially acceptable way, like crying. Shigaraki told Endeavor, in front of Deku and Bakugo, that heroes only hurt their families, but it wasn't until Deku saw a glimpse of Tenko that Deku decided Shigaraki was worth saving because little Tenko’s tears humanized him and made him relatable.

While this is a turning point in the manga, the way it came about insinuates that certain unspoken conditions exist that need to be filled before victimhood can be validated or someone is deemed worthy of help. Not everyone is equal, and not everyone's pain will be good enough in hero society. This warrants the questions the League of Villains keep asking: who are heroes here to save? Who is it that needs saving? Where do you draw the line? Are villains not people too?

This new plot point of Deku being moved by Tenko’s tears also brings into light how isolating and demonizing it is for Dabi not being physically able to cry. He compensates for this – because remember, crying regulates your emotions, and if you can’t cry you turn to other coping mechanisms for self-soothing – by telling himself and others that he doesn’t care about anything or anyone. He copes with his emotions by smiling and grinning, by not getting too attached. He takes an offensive approach through keeping a distance from people by insulting them and being rude. However, his quirk’s link to his emotions betrays him and exposes his true feelings: his flames became hotter after Twice died and his flames turned white while confronting Endeavor. Dabi, despite everything, still cares and feels deeply.

So, how is Dabi supposed to be seen and understood and saved if he can’t prove that he has feelings if he can't cry? Why would he even want to cry, since crying never helped him? All Touya did from the age of four was cry for help, literally, and yet he was ignored and neglected. It wasn't Shigaraki's words that moved Deku, it was the unintended display of emotion through crying, which is something Dabi can't do even if he wanted because his tear ducts are burnt as a result of being so heartbroken over his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. The irony is ugly and upsetting to witness – overwhelming feelings of abandonment and worthlessness almost killed Dabi ten years ago and now, when the story implies he desperately needs to cry to be seen, he can't, and therefore he's still alone and will continue to be alone.

But wait – he cries tears of blood, doesn’t he?

I think that if he’s caught in a vulnerable place, if the right people (Natsuo) meet him or if he is finally validated and seen and understood (Shouto), those tears of blood would come out and he’d finally be eligible (as gross as that sounds) for salvation, for understanding, for sympathy like Shigaraki. Feelings serve as evidence to society that villains are human too, and Dabi must first be considered a human. It seems that salvation, like the attention Touya received from his father, is conditional. Touya's wounded inner child and status as an abuse survivor will be the ticket to his redemption IF he can be vulnerable and express his pain physically to the younger generation of heroes, because talking about his past hasn't helped and won't help. Even now, as noted in 304, people still weren't sure why he became a villain even though he literally explained why in his pre-recorded broadcast. Dabi, or his inner child, has to show evidence he is still emotionally suffering because his words won't suffice for society or heroes. Honestly, this framing is personally distressing and frustrating because it pushes a bad victim vs good victim mentality, especially in light of Rei commenting that Shouto, who she burnt and forgave her nonetheless, is their family's hero.

Don't get me wrong. Shouto has done nothing wrong to warrant this suffering, and I think it's great that Deku is determined to save everyone within his reach. This makes sense as his role as protagonist. With that said, it's unsettling to me how drastically different he's reacting to Shigaraki compared to how he responded to Dabi by comparing him to Endeavor and implying Dabi is worse for not trying to be better. Before anyone jumps down my throat, I know Deku intervened because he was worried about Shouto, and that Deku is 16 and young. My point is that the narrative and the writing is setting up a problematic view of victims by having the main character nitpick who deserves to be saved based on this societal construct that people must first qualify or prove themselves. Shigaraki shouldn't have had to show his trauma receipts or be relatable for Deku to want to save him. Shigaraki didn’t even expose his inner child on purpose – Deku caught a glimpse of that without Shigaraki’s intention.

Let me say this another way. Imagine if you had to present yourself as sympathetic to a firefighter, an ambulance worker, or a doctor before receiving their help. It would be unprofessional and highly unethical for these professionals to turn you down because you don't fit the image of someone who needs help, someone who's not "sick" enough, whose house isn't burning hot enough, whose injuries aren't "bad" enough. So why do heroes, as a group of public servants, have these unwritten rules and preconceived notions about what a victim looks like? I understand that people are more likely to provide services if you're nice to them (you catch more flies with honey, etc) and that everyone has biases etc, but this isn't a core value of the helping professions or public servants. It's unethical to discriminate and assign varying levels of care based on how someone treats you or others around them. People in need are people in need, and that's that.

As of now, it seems like the manga is on route to support the League's complaints by supplying evidence that their disillusionment with society isn't unfounded - even Twice, who died crying at the hands of a hero part of the older generation, was not considered a person before he was considered a villain. But maybe if he had come across a hero from the younger generation, someone who recognized his tears as human despite his criminal record, he wouldn't have met the fate he did. It seems that the older generation of heroes don't take tears or emotions into account, which is why Tenko and Touya were shrugged off. But the younger generation will go out of their way to help anyone who needs help, but only if they prove themselves or make themselves sympathetic.

[animeyanderelover]

Hello again! Can I have prompt 46 with Ash? Tnx

Recently I told my friend that I had a lot of requests about him and she laughed about it. She doesn't really like him, but she gives him credit since he looks good.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, extreme paranoia, isolation, desperation, mentions of kidnapping,overprotectiveness, mentions of self-harm, Stockholm syndrome

Prompt 46: "Can I...can I kiss you?"

It was nothing less than a miracle that someone like you existed, someone who was cleansed from all the sins of this world and the corruption of humans. You were radiating with everything Ash had wanted for this world, a world that he wanted to give to you. It was the minimum from what she should and would do for you, it was his duty as your very own guardian angel. A role he was utterly dedicated too, devoted to his very own angel who forgave him his sins every time.

It was true, you had forgiven him his crimes already a long time ago as everything around you had started to fade away and you had lost count of how long exactly you had been stuck in here. Somewhere around one and a half years would be your expectation, looking on how the seasons had changed through the large and closed windows which symbolized your loss of freedom. But you didn't mind anymore.

You only needed and wanted Ash, your guardian angel.

There was clear tension in his body, you could feel how he stiffened up under your embrace. He had never really received that sort of affection before from anyone nor would he have ever wanted it from all those worthless lives walking around freely. You were the only person he actually wanted any sort of touches from. That was how pure you were, even causing someone like him craving something and falling victim to his own desires. And it was his own fault for being so weak-minded. He didn't deserve you yet letting you perish outside would be an even greater sin. He had to keep you safe.

"My Queen...what are you doing?"

Being able to keep his composure was important in front of you, though he remembered to have failed multiple times in the past already. Severe punishment was the only thing he could think of to atone for his failures for not being good enough, for proving himself to be so incredibly useless. Even now he could feel some unhealed wounds aching a bit, but you didn't have to know about his weakness and incompetence.

You blinked slightly confused up at him when he asked you such an obvious question, but it soon turned into slight giggling that instantly plunged Ash's heart into painfully warm emotions and forced his eyes to get wet. It had taken a while until you had been able to look so happy after he had quickly rescued you from all the evil waiting to devour you. The distress he had felt back then could never be put in words and no burns, knifes and broken bones had been able to make up for what you had been suffering under. Even now it remained as a anxiety deeply stuck in his heart. But looking at you now, smiling at him and not staring with wide eyes filled with fear at him, was worth much more than his whole life could ever repay you.

"I’m hugging you. It’s just that you always look so worried and stressed over my safety and never appear to take a rest. Just now you did as well so I thought this might help you a bit. A strong hug can be more worth than thousand words after all. That’s what my mother told me at least when I was younger.”, you replied softly, pressing your face deeper into his chest with a content look on your face.

There was nothing Ash could think of for a few moments, instead he seared the scene in front of him deep into his brain, how you were currently buried into his chest, looking so happy and peaceful. So stunning and precious.

Tears were quick to escape his eyes only seconds later, his insides stirring up with warmth that stung him and yet baked him with something he hadn’t felt in so long. Comfort and peace.

This was exactly why he had to protect you with his very own life, no one was allowed to snuff out the light you carried inside of you and that was able to even share it’s warmth with him. You possessed too much kindness to understand, but normal humans only destroyed what they touched, ruining it with their greed.

He wouldn’t let them do the same to you.

He would kill everyone who would even do as much as getting too close.

He just had to guarantee that you would live.

But first of all he had to calm himself down or otherwise he might worry you even more than he seemed to have done already. The tears were quickly wiped away with his sleeves before Ash was able to look at you again, still feeling like he wanted to continue crying. His heart felt like it might burst at any moment.

“You have so much warmth and love inside of you that I don’t think I deserve any of it. You shouldn’t even be concerned about me, I merely do what I have to do as your guardian. If you were to fall victim to this damned place, I would perish as well. What use is an angel who can’t even protect their chosen one?”

Pain was twisting his voice and face a bit when he dared to imagine how a world without you would be, a world filled with grief and darkness for him. Letting his guard down would be a fatal mistake, he had seen the worst of this world and the humans and he knew that it would happen again. That was why he had to be like this for you were his heart beating outside his chest. If something were to ever happen to you...

The angel hadn't even noticed that he had already started crying again, fist tightened and body shaking whilst getting lost in fears of losing the one good and bright thing this world had still left.

"But for me you're more than just a guardian angel. You're my angel and I want you to feel happy as well. I want you to feel loved as well. You do so much for me, but I feel like I only cause you stress and uneasiness. Shouldn't you be happy because of me?", you asked him in slight protest, feeling sadness whilst seeing the man you had come to love like this again because of you. You had never seen him truly relaxed nor had you ever been able to show him your feelings. He wouldn't let you, not thinking that he deserved you.

His reaction was instant, suddenly falling on his knees upon hearing from what you had said that he had disappointed you yet again, the visible look of your sorrow only stabbing his fear deeper into his very soul.

"I-I am so sorry! I didn't know that you felt this way only because I was so selfish to only think about myself like this! I don't deserve your forgiveness and accept any sort of-"

When he felt the soft sensation of your hands cupping his stained cheeks, he abruptly stopped his rambling, trying to not choke on his own breath that had gotten irregular.

"You don't have to apologize to me. I don't want to hear you saying such things about yourself. Don't you understand? I am unhappy whenever you are like this, seeing yourself as so worthless and not deserving of my love. That's what hurts me so much. You're rejecting my feelings. I love you, Ash. And I want to know if you do too. Because if you do, please stop talking like this and behave so distantly."

Your voice conveyed every bit emotion that was going on inside of you in that moment, something that Ash noticed with widened eyes as well.

Silence was cut short by him when he realized that you wanted something crucial from him which he would gladly give you. He had never considered that you would ever consider his love as something you wanted, consider him as someone you loved. When had been the last time someone had been truly kind to him and loved him? He couldn't remember anymore.

"Of course I do. You should never doubt my feelings for you. I love you more than you could ever imagine. It's impossible to function without you.", he managed to reply with a shaking voice as he grabbed both of your hands in his own.

"Then why are you acting like this? Everyone deserves someone who loves them. Without love it's a very painful life, isn't it? That's why I am hurting as well. Let me love you and I promise that you'll be able to feel peace as well.", you muttered slightly embarrassed out, leaning your head down so your forehead could rest against his own.

Slight sobs were starting to catch up to Ash as he was staring in pure awe at you.

"Thank you. I'll be better and make sure that I won't cause you sadness anymore.", he pressed out, tightening his grip on your hands only the slightest bit so he wouldn't hurt you.

"I'm glad to hear that.", you replied with a sincere smile on your face, joy stirring your heart up just by seeing that for the first time since he had abducted you, Ash was looking relieved and less tense. He just looked extremely grateful.

"May I ask you for a favor then?", you requested with a certain idea in mind.

"I'll do anything for you.", Ash replied, sounding very emotional.

"I want to do something for you for once since you normally do anything for me."

Hesitation and clear dislike instantly shadowed his face, the thought of him asking something from you going against Ash's belief in all the wrong ways. You shouldn't have to do him favors.

"It doesn't have to be something difficult. It can be a really simple thing. Just...something that I can do for you this once. Please.", you begged slightly, seeing the angel already struggling. You knew how he felt about such things, he hated letting you do something for him and he had never done it before either. Ash saw it only upon himself to serve you which was another thing that sometimes made you feel guilty. You wanted to do more for him as well.

"Can I...can I kiss you?"

Maybe that had been more a slip of his tongue, but he had been slightly panicking since hadn't want to sadden you again nor had he wanted you to do physical work for him. It was supposed to be the other way around.

So when he had stared for a moment at your face, eyes locked on your lips, he had considered somewhere deep in his mind possibilities which he had been fantasizing about a few times before, but hadn't thought that they would actually have a change of happening.

In his opinion they were still sinful, it would take a while for him to get used to the idea that you wanted to receive physical affection and love from him. The first impulse when he realized what he had said was instantly apologizing, only to be interrupted before he could even start saying anything.

You had already leaned down to fulfill him his wish before he could take it back again.

[damselofblueroses]

The Name of the Rose, Chapter 3

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo made a mistake on his delicate relationship with the reader, then he could not find a way of apologizing. Reader made his life harder than he could imagine. They accepted that they mutually have some feelings however they could not name them. Catastrophy begins with Kyungsoo’s acceptance of reader’s interesting and unexpected offer.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Series Masterlist

Prettier than Roses

Perhaps Kyungsoo was still punishing himself even after all this time, whether he was aware of his regrets or not. But he was punishing himself, for not being vocal about his feelings for you. He burned for you, he followed you just as a bloody puppy dog tail, but he always kept his heart’s desires in his chest.

He was resisting the urge of confessing, the dire need of being more than a friend for you as he was performing all roles of a friend, but God, he hated his role in your life. Even though he strongly believed that he did not have a chance with you, not even in the slightest, not after he played his role very well, more than he wanted and resulted in being your very dear and close friend. A friend, but nothing more nothing less. He hated so much, if he could, he would change everything in the blink of an eye.

He knew that he had to take you back to the safety of your room immediately. Before he was going to lose his shit. Before he was going to make a mistake. Before he was going to fuck the things up so bad. He was determined to take the cab and keeping you away from himself.

He did not want any distraction, shit he fucking dreamed of ripping that bloody dress off you during the dinner, he did not wish anything but managing to lock himself inside of his room before doing something stupid.

His clenched his fists in order to focus on a different thing. When he saw the cab coming to your direction, he was on the verge of praying.

However, when he turned to you, he just lost his shit.

You were looking at him with you big-doe eyes, a pout on your lips. The city lights were painting you with a dim yellow shine, multiplying your summer rose vibe. To Kyungsoo’s dismay, the wind carried your floral fragrance to him.

He remembered what you asked him.

He remembered what you requested.

Kyungsoo would do it right, he would touch you rightly and correctly, goddamn, he was fucking dreamed of how he could touch you since years. He was not better than the men you went out with, he was fantasizing a lot about you, he felt bad since he did not have your permission, fucking hell if he would ask your permission, but at the same time he knew that he was just helpless when those thoughts about you popped up in his imagination.

Unfortunately, all those dreams were so vivid.

You were like an island to him. A place for self-isolation, a place of happy utopias, a place of loneliness, a place of joy and fruitful ways of living, a place of exile and a place of connection. You were his island, his harbour and he needed to make you his, only his.

Since the day you were asleep on his shoulder in the bloody library, Kyungsoo wanted nothing but you.

Since the day you jumped in front of Kyungsoo out of nowhere with your fucking Cheshire cat grin, Kyungsoo only wished for being able to stick to you till the end. He did not care if he was torturing himself by dreaming of you when he knew he could not have you.

Your scent was too good.

Kyungsoo did not think what the heck he was doing, his mind could not catch his actions. His breath caught in the center of his throat like he was thirsty since ages, he could feel all dryness. He watched himself out of his body, he reached to you and dragged you into the cage of his arms.

Your smell was something else and Kyungsoo was immediately drunk in your scent.

“It is okey, Kyungsoo.” he heard your sweetest voice.

Kyungsoo did not need anything more to hear. The cab just disappeared into the darkness he caressed your face.

“You are so beautiful.” the words he was desperate to say finally fell from his tongue, mingled with the air. Your eyes slightly widened, and he heard your little gasp, that was the nail of Kyungsoo’s coffin. “Goddamn, you are fucking beautiful.”

“Kyungsoo” you literally moaned his goddamn name, and if there was still a kind of sanity left in Kyungsoo’s mind, your moan unconditionally destroyed it.

He kissed you and it took your breath away, both of you.

He kissed you enough to empty your lungs, and made your mind go to mush.

You were the one who broke the kiss in order to catch your thoughts. Your mind was scattered all around. You leaned over to your shaking knees and held them tightly.

“This… This…” you were panting, trying to find an excuse in the book in order to justify the kiss he gave to you.

“This means nothing.” Kyungsoo muttered but he could also reject to his claim with two reasons. First, It definitely did not fell like fucking nothing, and he never want something more than kiss you.

“Well, it means a lot to me.” you could not help but spill the beans. “Where in the hell you learned how to kiss like this?”

“I told you that you never have a proper taste of me.” Kyungsoo tensely chuckled, hell, he was aware of he was doing everything in his not-to-do list, but the spell you put on him made him impervious to anything except you.

“If you kiss every girl like this,” you hesitated to tell what you wanted to say, then you just gave up. JesusfuckingChrist, if he did not want to hear, he would better not to kiss you. Since he turned your brain into mush, he had to listen. “There is no surprise they are chasing you every day.”

“I do not kiss every girl first and foremost.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed. “If they want to chase me, what can I do?”

“And now you are bragging about yourself.” Your mood quickly changed into a less pleasurable and preferrable situation. “Can we go back?”

“Yes, of course.” he nod but you knew that you just destroyed everything was building between you in the blink of eye. You bite your upper lip so hard, preventing you from crying. Not now. Not before you were going to be under your blanket.

That kiss, that fucking kiss, it was all Kyungsoo’s fault.

He gave you a proper taste of himself, and you just wanted to cry, you were deeply sad because of you were not able to have him, you could not have him. He would not come to you as he boldly stated that the kiss meant nothing.

You were angry.

You were sad.

You were disappointed of yourself.

You just wanted to go back to the safety of your room and being able to talk with Chanyeol. He would understand. You knew that Baekhyun would give you a lot of advice in order to seduce Kyungsoo, but you did not want even to hear them.

He told you the kiss meant nothing.

Hell, if you could agree with this shitty statement, you would be lying your ass off.

Fuck off, you bastard you thought. You were fighting with your tears, trying to send them back. You were a big, strong girl and you could control your feelings.

You always were extremely strong, and you were famous for your self-control. You were not going to let Kyungsoo to destroy your inner peace or seeing you in tears because of his fucking rejection. You thought Kyungsoo would do it better, kissing you better, making you feel good, but the only thing he did was dismantling your foolish dreams.

He put you in your place, he gave you a lesson about your place in his eyes.

Nothing.

Kyungsoo could not look at you while you two were in the cab, going back to the hotel.

He knew that he fucked the things up so bad and he could not think a way to claim back from the pit he fell down by himself.

He kissed you, goddamn, it was the best kiss of his whole life, then he just said it meant nothing.

He cursed himself, he wished for the earth cracked like an egg and swallow his worthless presence. He made you upset, that’s why he could not look at your face. He knew what he was going to see, your eyes were going to mirror his mistake.

He lost in the moment, and while he was trying to give you a justification of that kiss, he just irrevocably ruined everything.

When you arrived at the hotel, you paid for the cab without saying a single word to Kyungsoo and directly walked to the inside of the hotel.

Kyungsoo was dying to grab you and apologizing on his knees, but your face telling him not to dare touching you.

He did not enter the hotel, he just sat on a chair in the garden. He was lost in his self-hatred, dreadful overthinking that had his skull feeling stuffed and a lifeless gaze washed all his feature.

He expected nothing but long days where the minutes bled into hours, hours into days and the inability to differentiate one day from the other. He mentally prepared himself for more than self-hatred, he knew that depression, isolation, and numbness were on their way to finish him, to eat him alive. Your face expression when he told you it was nothing was carved behind his eyelids, whenever he closed his eyes.

Kyungsoo was ready for flashbacks and nightmares, disturbing recollections that would render him for the following days.

Comatose, Kyungsoo thought. It was going to be a comatose for him.

How could he think he was better than those guys you went out? They did not destroy your expectations; they did not blend your self-confidence as Kyungsoo did in the seconds.

You did not know but there was a reason why Kyungsoo hopelessly tried to spare you from his kiss. You did not know but Kyungsoo heard a conversation between you and Chanyeol for once, when Chanyeol was telling that Kyungsoo was different for you, Kyungsoo was caring you more than anyone else, Kyungsoo was always there for you before anyone else just like he forgot how to shut his mouth as he continued. Chanyeol was the one who told you about Kyungsoo’s feelings.

And you just giggled of disbelief as Chanyeol went on about everything Kyungsoo wanted to tell you. Open your eyes to the facts.

You just laughed at his feelings coming from Chanyeol’s mouth and you told him it was impossible, you declared that there was nothing could be happened between Kyungsoo and you. You told Chanyeol, Kyungsoo was a good guy, but you did not think he was for you.

He wanted to save you from an unwanted situation which Kyungsoo could put you in by kissing you. It was sake, telling him to teach you, and Kyungsoo stupidly fell for it.

Till now he preferred to hide in the shadows, dancing around the subject than jumping onto it.

But this logic that his mind was following did not change how much he hated himself right now.

He had no regrets on kissing you, god knew that. He still could taste your velvety lips under his lips, he knew that moment was going to live with him till the end of his life. That kiss was grounding but inebriating, he was feeling sane while bringing both of you to the edge of insanity, your lips burned him like a fire.

When you touched him, you marked his skin, your touch stayed on him.

But he hated himself so much, enough to made him feel suffocating.

He found himself standing up and heading to your room before he could understand what the heck he was aiming for. The deep rumble of his chest that he could almost feel vibrate through the air as he walked through the way coming to you, helped him to prepare himself to face with you.

What could it be? he asked to himself. You could tell him get the fuck off, but he was not going to obey to your wish this time.

It was going to be a rumbling, he knew your possible reactions when you were sad, Goddamnit, you were extraordinarily upset with him, but he did not let this fact to disheartened him. He was not a coward; he was going to fix his mistake.

Kyungsoo raised his hand to knock your door, but before doing it, he heard your voice. As he thought, you were talking with Chanyeol or Baekhyun, he was not sure. He came closer to the door as much as he could, and did not give a shit to the rightful concern what if someone saw him while he was leaning on a single woman’s room like a stalker pervert?

He did not care.

He only cared for hearing your words after the incident.

Your voice was cracked, and he could not hear you properly, your voice was coming and going like a goddamn ancient radio. He could hear some words but there was no consistency or no chance of building a logical sentence of your words. He could perceive his name, with couple of words which Kyungsoo hoped not to be used with his name again, some broken lines on how disappointed you were, and he caught your oh-god-fucking-damn-it type of annoyance against Kyungsoo.

He gave up and knocked your door.

Twice.

There was no sign from you, and Kyungsoo was tired of patiently waiting.

He did his waiting. Seven years. In a fucking friendzone he put himself in.

He aggressively knocked on your door, and he did not stop until you gave up and opened the door.

“Shit.” he cursed when he saw your face. “You look horrible.”

Oh really? you thought.

After leaving Kyungsoo, you did not spend a single second to lock yourself in your secure and lonely room, then you just pressed the right numbers to make a call. Chanyeol was there for you, he listened your rambling and gibberish without a sign of inconvenience. He let you to curse Kyungsoo as much as you wanted, he joined you for the little party of swearing at Kyungsoo and he was generous on his vocabulary.

But you cried even when Chanyeol managed to put a broken smile on your face by telling you maybe Kyungsoo was not interested in girls, otherwise he had to be on his knees for you.

You cried for Kyungsoo more than anything made you cry till now.

Your sadness caught you off guard, even you did not expect to be upset with him like this, your feelings were like a blunt blade, it was turning in your heart over and over, using your own blood to be sharp again, then continuing its spinning in your heart. Pain made you numb; you could do only cry.

Your eyes were puffed and literally red. Your cheeks were red. Your lips were red.

Of course, you looked goddamn horrible as Kyungsoo, this asshole, proudly observed. Applause time for him for his greatest deduction.

“Nothing can escape from your eyes, Sherlock.” you murmured. “Couldn't you pay your attention on the fact that we already passed the midnight? Why are you here?”

“May I come in?” Kyungsoo kindly asked but something in his eyes were telling you to be on your toes and careful.

“No.” You congratulated yourself because of your refined answer. You were an idiot for sure, instead of playing with him and showing that he had no impacts on you, you chose to manifest how much you were broken by him. Good for you.

Transformation started in his eyes. Those chocolate brown and very warm eyes, reminding the deer’ beauty, perfectly shaped as almonds turned into crescents, and it was a bloody indicator of his mood was shifted into something dangerous. He was always quick to switch the moods, but he had never looked intimating at this level. You really could not believe what the heck he did, he just grabbed your fucking wrists, dragged you inside of your fucking room without your permission and pressed you on your fucking wall.

“Kyungsoo, fuck off!” you hissed at him, trying to save yourself from his iron grasp, swallowing hard.

“Tell me just one thing and save both of us from misery.” he whispered; his low-pitched voice gave you goosebumps which you really tried to take no notice of, but your traitor body willingly has been taking everything if the giver was Kyungsoo. “Why did you cry?”

“What if I do not want to tell you?” you lifted your chin, you needed to distance yourself from him, he already ruined the progress just a couple of hours ago. His statement clearly taught you whatever your friendship was not the best way to build a new kind of relationship, and you strongly opposed to be friends with benefits or those kinds of agreements. You would not go for them, you wanted Kyungsoo as your lover, not as your fuckbuddy.

“Do me a favor,” he enunciated each syllable and moved his right hand to your shoulder, pressing you into wall just like he wished to ground you right there. “Tell me.”

He leaned on you, his palm made contact with your shoulder, sliding up to your neck and staying there. His touch was heavy again, hotter than before.

He was goddamn close.

When you tried to save your body from him again, Kyungsoo’s hips rutted against yours.

Well, now you could feel more than before.

“Stop fucking moving!” he grunted, surprising you with the sudden and macho voice tone. He looked like very uncomfortable. “You and your idiotic behaviour!”

“If you do not like it, let me go!” you hissed, but you felt a knot was forming in the pit of your stomach. You were afraid of his impacts on you, especially after that fucking kiss. He had you over there as melted like a chocolate under heat.

Even while you were fighting to free yourself, your eyes unconsciously gravitated along his features, all you could do was thinking of him all the time you had spent with him. Those piercing brown eyes and those plump, smooth and heart-shaped lips that are always set in a witty line, the smallest moles and a couple of freckles all around his tiny nose and rosy cheeks, his long eyelashes, and that bloody soft hair of him, caused you to desire running your fingers through.

He was driving you fucking crazy, and you hated his power on you.

“Oh, believe me if I do not like even your idiotic side,” he leaned forward, closed the little proximity between your bodies and you felt the air left your lungs with your sanity. “I would not kiss you, damn woman.”

You were lost for words, you were run down, the only thing you could voice was an exasperated huff. Kyungsoo stared at you, refusing to loosen his grip around your body, instead he held you for his dear life and his gaze was nothing but absolutely penetrating.

You turned your head, trying to find something else to fix your eyes upon while you had been seeking the meaning of his words about liking your idiotic side.

Did he convey his feelings? Did he really stand for liking you, if he liked even your idiotic side, did it indicate that he liked all of you?

If he kissed you because he liked you, did that kiss imply more than nothing for him?

If yes, why he told you it meant nothing?

“Look at me.” his left hand cupped your face gently, on the contrary of his eyes, burning with fires, you could see the red was invading chocolate brown circles. “Do not avert your eyes.”

You blinked and shut your eyelids tightly. Suddenly, the silence in the room was more palpable than it was before, drowning both of you in a foggy swamp of riddles.

You were pissed off, broken and now, thanks to his complicated words, you were more than confused.

Kyungsoo was pissed off, broken and now, thanks to your complicated reactions, he was more than confused.

“If you were so keen on trying to convince yourself that I meant that kiss was nothing,” his jaw flexed, and his eyes were clouded. “I was trying to make amend for my fault. I should have not kiss you.”

You shivered, despite it was a very hot summer night, and Kyungsoo’s warm body made your temperature skyrocketed.

“Why?” you asked. “You do not make any sense, Kyungsoo.”

“Look, who is talking?” he rolled his eyes back. “You never make any sense about our fucking relationship since the beginning. I told you many times, pay your attention.”

You should be warned to follow the signs. Collect them and find the hidden meaning. Kyungsoo was sure on his patience, he could wait for you as much as you wished, he could give you time as much as you needed, but he had no patience to hide in the shadows anymore.

He knew that his constant shifting between one side to the other surprised you, hell it surprised even himself, he did not think about any of this, but since that kiss happened between you, since Kyungsoo got a taste of you, since he could touch you… Everything was changed.

He did not want to let you go.

He could not let you go.

He was aware of you did not belong to him, maybe you did not perceive Kyungsoo as a man, but he could not be your friend anymore. He wanted to tell you how much he adored you more than before. He wanted to kiss you more than before. He wanted to see your face when he woke up, he wanted to cuddle you when he was sad, he wanted to lean on your shoulder when he was broken, he wanted to cook for you, he wanted to sing for you, he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to be your harbour to shelter from the stormy seas, your rock to build your home.

He wanted to live his life with you. He wanted to share even the smallest detail of his fucking life with you.

“I told you that I even like your idiotic side,” he clarified. “And you still avert your eyes from me.”

That ignited the fire of your soul.

“Hell, excuse me for my idiotic side but if I remember correctly and my memory never fails me, I told you that it was fucking okey just before you kissed me, after I shared my catastrophic first kiss experience with you,” your voice was not trembling anymore. It was firm, fuelled by your anger. “Then, all you could say was that kiss stands for nothing. What do you expect me to say?”

“Even if you are upset with me, talk to me!” he frowned. “I ask nothing but your words, truly and fully. Is this too much to expect? Hell, you were the one who said that I am a good guy but not made for you, why you are so upset with me because I made an excuse for that kiss?!”

It was your turn to froze. Kyungsoo finally let you go, he stepped back, and his arms crossed over his chest, but you froze to death. You could not move but looking at his unchanging expression like an idiot he just named it correctly.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath. If Kyungsoo said this to your face, it meant that he wanted you to face a revelation. He wanted you to know that he heard your words about him, the words which you vividly remember as you said them to Chanyeol without knowing that Kyungsoo was able to hear them. If he heard them, you owed an explanation to him. Maybe you were just searching an excuse in the book, but you gave up. You were going to tell him what you think of him. “It was me. I still have the same observation. You are damn good for me, if I would say the opposite, I would be lying my ass off.”

Kyungsoo’s face went blank.

What did you say to him? He wanted you to talk truly, however right now he was nothing but almost regretful what he had said to you. Kyungsoo hoped for you did not mean that for real, he wished it was just a gibberish.

Were you a goddamn fool?

He knew the low level of your self-confidence, but your statement was nothing but the shittiest one he has ever heard.

“What?” he murmured. “You think I am good for you?”

“Yes.” you nod. “Look at yourself, Kyungsoo! You are damn good at everything you do, you are clever, hard-working, funny, firm and always trustable, I even do not go for your physical quality, it is fucking obvious, you are handsome as fuck. Of course, I could not say anything different, you were not made for me.”

Suddenly, your hands became the focus of your attention, you fixed your eyes onto them instead of looking at Kyungsoo, who took his time before registering and recording your words in his brain. Then, his hands started were smashed together unintentionally.

“And during all this time,” he heard his own voice trembling, as if being blown by the brute force that he was trying to contain inside of his chest. “I thought you are the cleverer one.”

“Ha?”

“I really do not understand why I think you can follow the signs I have been giving to you like a bloody idiot.” he could not help but growled at you. “In my opinion, you are the only girl who deserves to feel fucking good, and if I can be that one to bring you to such a high, I would willingly do it.”

“I do not un-

“Because you do not want to see!” Kyungsoo could not control himself but go ballistic because of your blockheadedness. How could a woman be clueless at this level? What should he do, continue to scream at you about his feelings or should he bring a testimony that was approved by lawyers?

Didn’t you understand how much he cared for you?

Didn’t you see his almost tangible desires for you?

Everyone could sense his love for you, but you could fucking not, and Kyungsoo was burned out because of your total ignorance.

“Are you,” your whisper reached to his ears. “Are you interested in me?”

Kyungsoo decided that, on the contrary of your academic success, you were literally a retard.

“Why do you think I follow you everywhere like I am your dog tail?” he clenched his fists. Quickly, he walked towards you, but stopped just in front of your trembling body. “What do you think of me, do I look like a lost puppy?”

“No.” you were offended by his words. Dog tail? Puppy? He was not that much cute at first place with his level of being witty and shitty! However, after one look at him, you were not sure anymore, even he was clearly pissed off, he was fucking gorgeous and cute. “Shit, Kyungsoo, you are annoying.”

“You are the damn annoying one.” Kyungsoo started to question himself, he wanted nothing more than to fuck this attitude out of you right there, in your double sized bed. “All I did was finding an excuse which can make you relaxed with me, and I accepted my failure. I should have neither kiss you nor lie about it. But I did, and I apologize for my misbehaviour. Let’s look at you, you are just asking goddamn questions and ignoring my answers. Who is the annoying one?”

You whipped your head around; your eyes were glistering with a layer of tears, forming in the edges.

“Are you interested in me, or not?” you cried. Kyungsoo glanced up, he registered the sudden stiffness in you, and how you consciously averting your eyes away from him. He remembered that same stiffness invaded your posture when you wanted to learn what happened to your dad while he was in emergency, or you were hopelessly driving into Busan when you received after the news of Chanyeol’s motorcycle crash.

He finally understood what you needed to hear.

You wanted his words.

You wanted him to say those words.

“I have always been interested in you.” he gave up. Your heart jumped into your throat at his blunt answer, you did not know how you feel about this information, having a place in Kyungsoo’s head was something you always hoped for, but never believe it could be real. Half of you thrilled with a delicious excitement, while the other half wanted to run away because of fear.

What if he was going to fuck around with you then ditch you?

What if he was going to try being with you then decide to leave you?

What if he was going to pour happiness into your life, you even could not dream of, then disappear?

Your dilemma was in your head. Carved into your mind, body, and soul.

Your biggest fear was losing Kyungsoo.

“I hate this eerily silence between us.” Kyungsoo cut you off before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole. How could you tell him he was everything and more you wanted from this life? How could you make him to understand how much you devoted yourself to him unconditionally? You watched him with darkening eyes, darkening with your fears, with your concerns, with your worries. Your eyes were dark as the pitch-black. “I am sorry to disturb you. See you tomorrow morning if you want to have a breakfast with me.”

Every layer of privacy and secrecy that you desperately tried to build till now in order to keep your weakest point from him were dissolved when he directly headed to the door. You did not even realize but threw yourself in order to stop him.

“Do not go.” you let the tears fall then and held his toned arm for your dear life. You could not let him to leave you behind, otherwise you would be damned. “Do not leave me, before you really have to do.”

“Why should I have to leave you?” Kyungsoo turned back to you. You saw the hesitation of his moves, he wanted to caress your face, but he was holding himself. “I cannot do it, even if I want to. You are too precious for me, bookworm.”

Your face was softened by his rich baritone voice and the nickname he gave you. Calling you as a bookworm was reserved to Kyungsoo, he beaten the shit out of even Baekhyun when he also called you like Kyungsoo.

“One day you will, Soo.” you were lost in your nightmares, mulling over horrendous scenarios your subconscious had been giving you in a fucking row. “One day someone will steal you from me, one day you will fall in love with a girl and leave me behind.”

Something told you that you should have been keeping this logic to yourself, but you were extremely emotional at the very moment. Your expectations, dreams, fears, hopes, everything was mixed up and conjoined with the amount of sake you just consumed.

You were talkative tonight, something very rare for you and Kyungsoo was happy for that. Even though you had been going through a hell of a night. He was also oversensitive, his mind was clouded by his own dreads and doubts, however when you sharply deducted on his not-existed-because-of-you love affairs, he could not help but chuckled.

“First, I have to see the girls.” his throat was like a sandpaper as he swallowed. The rosy tint on your cheeks was obviously growing, invading your skin, and heading to the south. He hardly took his eyes off your neck and the rest of the direction. “Excuse me, but I have eyes only for you.”

“You cannot say that!” you winced, by fanning your face with your hands.

“Then enlighten me.” he defended himself. “How should I say it? Sorry, but I believe in monogamy.”

Your knuckles paled as your grip around his arm tightened.

How could you name the hunger that driving you into crazy? How could you tell him even looking at him, even if you have not a single clue what was going to be happen, riling you up? You supposedly liberated yourself from Kyungsoo, but tearing his gaze away was impossible for you.

You wanted him. So, fucking bad.

You wanted his hands. His lips. His body.

You wanted his soul. His heart.

You were starting to pull him to yourself without noticing, Kyungsoo’s eyes were widened when you took the initiative to your hands.

Literally.

“Do you remember what I asked to you?” you whispered.

“About?” Kyungsoo exhaled with your unexpected shifting between moods. He did not trust his voice, not now, not when you were so close to him, enough to feel your breath on his lips.

His throat was like the deserts of Egypt right now.

“About teaching me.” you murmured into his fucking ear. “When it comes to touch someone?”

“Yeah.” he swallowed very hard, biting a tsunami of cursing back.

“Will you teach me?” your hands wandered around his arms to his chest and stopped there. “For the future references?”

“If I were you,” he groaned. “I would not think about future references.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your hands back off his body. Kyungsoo caught your hands and put them back on his chest, while he was aggressively dragged you into his arms.

“I am going to teach you.” his eyebrows were furrowed. “How you should be touched.”

Kyungsoo was never going to forget how your eyes glowed after his words with excitement.

He was not sure but it seemed like you wanted him almost like how he wanted you.

Desperately and fucking needy.

He carried you to the bed.

[mistergrass]

Zodiac Mom Headcanons: Momiji’s Mom

Slowly but surely I am making my way through these mom posts. This time let’s talk about someone whose worst moments as a mother were put on blast for the audience to see. 

Rat & Snake Mom | Ox Mom | Tiger Mom | Rabbit Mom | Dragon Mom

Momiji’s mother is an only child born in Berlin. 

Her father, a handsome and charismatic man, is a renowned photographer. Her mother, beautiful and alluring, is a dancer. They’re drawn to each other immediately when they meet on a photoshoot that features her mother’s dance troupe. 

Their romance is as short-lived as it is passionate, and the affair comes to an abrupt end when her mother becomes pregnant. 

The responsibility of a child falls almost completely on her mother’s shoulders, essentially ending her dance career (something she had left her family to pursue), and the beginnings of a cruel resentment begin to take form.

Her father has the spirit of an artist -- not wanting to be tied down to one woman, and not very suited for a traditional family lifestyle. That being said, he doesn’t abandon mother and child completely. 

As Momiji’s mother grows up, her father will pop in and out of her life as he pleases. She thinks her mother can be too strict, too mean, and becomes a difficult child to handle as a result. But when her father comes to visit, she is over the moon and perfectly behaved. He’ll take her to museums, show her the photographs hanging in his studio, give her a stepping stool so she can help in his dark room, and (unlike her mother) will never ever scream at her even when clumsy, childish hands accidentally spill things or knock things over. 

Her father never sticks around for very long, and as wonderful as it is to see him, it hurts tenfold when he leaves. And so, she grows up with her mother’s snappish impatience, and her father’s casual and conditional affection. 

Going into her teenage years, Momiji’s mom begins to come into her own as an artist -- admiring and following the path of her father. She loves painting and ceramics, but she begins to grow into an undeniable beauty and it’s not long that she’s discovered as a model.

Her mother does not approve of this choice. For her, it’s bad enough that she has to watch her daughter openly prefer her father’s company to her own (despite everything she’s given up to raise her, while he can barely spare to send a postcard on their daughter’s birthday), but now her daughter is adding insult to injury by pursuing her father’s lifestyle. A lifestyle her mother was forced to give up to have a child. 

It also doesn’t help that Momiji’s mom finds almost instant success as a model. 

Where her mother was simply impatient before, now she becomes cruel. 

She begins to undermine her daughter’s beauty, nitpicking at every little thing about her appearance. Momiji’s mother is now being constantly told that her photos are drab, ugly, unprofessional. That her beauty is fleeting, that the world around her will discover one day how little talent she has, and that her artistic abilities are worthless and boring. All this while she’s still only a teenager. 

Momiji’s mom acts out in different ways, but mostly by taking on more modeling work (that exhausts her) and bringing home boyfriends her mother would never approve of (for good reason).

Her first serious boyfriend is a man six years her senior who is possessive and jealous, and rips to shreds the last bits of self-esteem she had left. 

By the end of their four year relationship, Momiji’s mother has come to believe that something inside her is deeply, truly ugly. She has an overflowing anxiety that others will see her for what she truly is. Something that is wholly incompatible with her inability to be alone -- whether romantically, or via the need to surround herself constantly with people. 

It’s at this time, at 20 years old and in her second year of university, that she meets Momiji’s father at a campus mixer.

At first, she’s intimidated by him (thought that doesn’t stop her from making conversation). She finds he’s not just studying abroad here, but attends the university full-time. He’s fluent in Japanese, German, and English, and seems so much smarter than she believes herself to be. In addition, he has a cold, distant demeanor to him that makes him seem unattainable. 

Momiji’s father on the other hand, is taken immediately by this woman. He’s awkward and nervous in large social gatherings, but has been told from an early age never to outwardly show his discomfort. But she talks so passionately, so freely, that he can’t help but be drawn to her. When he fumbles over his words at the end of the night to ask her out for dinner, she realizes that she’d mistaken his shyness for apathy, and it immediately enamors him to her. 

After two dates, they become inseparable. 

She’s taken in by his kindness and gentility. He listens to her as if everything she says matters. He isn’t at all like the arrogant personalities she’s dated in the past, and if anything has an aversion to talking about himself. He never once makes her feel stupid, puts her down, or makes her feel worthless.

She’s prone to terrible mood swings and bouts of manic self-loathing that will leave her a sobbing mess. But where this has driven away boyfriends in the past, it only serves to make him more devoted to her. He holds her in his arms, and never once gets upset with her for being so much to handle.

Momiji’s father is an only child from a high-ranking Sohma family, and has had the entirety of his life mapped out for him since birth. He works to inherit his father’s business, and to maintain their standing in the family. Insurmountable pressure had been put on his shoulders from a young age, one that isolated him from making true friends in favor of focusing solely on his studies. He was never allowed to be overwhelmed, to not be good enough, nor to be disobedient. 

But Momiji’s mother is like a walking piece of art -- chaotic and beautiful. He finds her endlessly interesting. He’s never met anyone who talks so openly about the things they love, the things they hate, or their own fears and insecurities. He likes feeling as though he can take care of her. He likes being someone reliable for her. And, eventually, he finds her to be the only person in the world that he can be vulnerable with. He has only ever cried in front of her. 

For the last two years of college they spend all their free time together. He uses his cushy Sohma allowance to take them on trips and long weekends around Europe. And when the time comes for him to return to Japan after graduation, he can’t picture even a moment of his future without her. 

He proposes, she says yes, and she agrees to leave her life in Berlin behind to move to Japan. 

It’s a difficult transition. Though she had started learning Japanese when they first started dating, she’s far from fluent. It makes forming friendships and new connections within the Sohma family all the harder. 

It’s also clear that her mother-in-law does not take too much of a liking to her. Momiji’s father bends over backwards making sure that their new home has space for her to continue her artistic pursuits, which comes off as frivolous to her new family. She also has limited housekeeping skills which reflects poorly on her ability to be a proper wife. 

It’s an isolating experience, especially with her husband working long, late hours nearly every night. The loneliness begins to eat at her, resurfacing the shattered self-esteem that her new husband had spent the past two years healing. She seriously considers moving back to Germany on more than one occasion, but then she gets pregnant. 

She’s not ready for a child. It’s too soon, and the thought of taking care of a whole other person is terrifying when she can barely stand to get out of bed most days now. But her husband assures her this will be a good thing, that maybe it will help the aching loneliness she feels. 

Before she has a chance to get excited, they’re summoned by a young Akito. 

Momiji’s mother doesn’t really process what she’s being told. Her husband has to translate what the little six year old is saying to her, and when he does his face is pinched and anxious. 

A curse, he says. Her child is cursed. Somehow it makes sense, what with everything that dwells inside herself, but it’s hard for her to grasp this whole thing beyond that.

The pregnancy is a difficult one, filled with complications and scares that leaves her health completely depleted. When Momiji is born two months premature, her nerves are completely frayed. 

True understanding of her child’s situation doesn’t really hit her until she holds a small rabbit in her arms, swaddled like a baby. 

She vomits when it first happens. The transformation leaves her completely shaken, and she can’t understand why no one else around her seems to find this as horrific as it obviously is. 

She does her best for the first few years. Honestly, she does. But the child makes her nervous. The supernatural nature of it all terrifies her, and she shakes every time she tries to hold her child and finds a little rabbit there instead. 

As he grows older, she finds herself snapping at him over the smallest things, just as her mother did to her. A guilt builds inside her steadily that somehow she is at fault for this, that her hidden, disgusting nature warped and mutated their child. The thought of it puts her in hysterics at times, and she finds she can never relax in her own home.

Her husband urges her to keep herself together. There’s a desperation in his voice when he talks to her now. He reminds her, again and again, that above everything else Momiji is their child. Theirs, and no one else’s. He is their son that they have created, and he is still a symbol of the love they have for each other. Once she adjusts to the situation, she’ll learn to love him the way he knows she can. She just needs more time.

During this period, other zodiac mothers make an attempt to reach out, and her Japanese is finally at a level that she can have pleasant conversation with them. Haru and Yuki’s mothers invite her to lunch often enough. Shigure’s mother is also very hospitable. She also takes a real liking to Kureno’s mother, though the woman is clearly disliked by many of the other women in the family. 

It helps, but it’s still difficult to talk to these women about her issues with the curse and with her son. Their eyes are judgmental, and she worries if she falls apart in front of them it would not be met with the same warmth as her husband (though he’s hardly ever around anymore). 

Stress and guilt and shame and fear slowly build inside her for the next four years. Then, one day, she sits down to paint and realizes she can’t. She’s too locked up -- the reality of her situation has become too overwhelming, and she can’t even release it through her art.

She finally decides to tell someone about what’s going on. Her husband had been very clear with her that this curse is to remain completely secret, but it’s not as if she wants to do a news interview. All she wants is to talk to her mom. 

Her mother is still the same harsh, critical woman she’s always been, but they’ve grown closer in the past few years. Becoming a mother herself has made her appreciate her own mother more, and the distance has softened both of them to each other considerably. 

She tells her mother the whole story, with her listening surprisingly sympathetically throughout. By the end of the conversation, Momiji’s mother feels more comforted and loved by her mother than she has in years. 

It’s Momiji’s father that gets the call from his livid mother-in-law demanding to know what’s happened to her daughter, and if he’s doing anything about the fact that she’s having a complete nervous breakdown that features wild delusions regarding their child.

Momiji’s father comes home that night, and for the first time he becomes truly angry at her. He scolds her for telling her mother anything about their situation, which only serves to make her just as angry since she was only seeking a bit of support. 

But it all gets much much worse when he says how lucky they are that her mother thought she was deranged. 

The whole world drops from below her feet when he admits that he let her mother continue to think that she was clinically insane. The man who had always defended her, understood her, cared for her -- the man she had left everything for -- had created a lie so egregious and spouted it back to her own mother. 

She demands to know why he would do such a thing, and when he sputters out his thoughtless obedience to this strange family -- the one with the child treated like a king, and with all these dark secrets. After so long of telling her that she was his light when his family treated him like nothing, after telling her that she was his most important family now -- it’s a betrayal that she’d never expected from the man she loves.

The reality of her isolation comes down all at once. There is no one left she can talk to, there is no place she can go, and this child now represents something completely foreign to her. The only thing that was keeping her together was her husband’s assurances that the child was completely theirs -- but it’s not. This child belongs to the Sohmas, to some curse that her body housed and nurtured. The disgust that’s been building inside her body breaks like a dam and completely washes over Momiji. 

She becomes inconsolable. She refuses to look at her son, and her husband becomes subject to fits of rage and anguish. He feels as though he’s completely lost her, and with the love of his life so indisposed, he feels just as alone. 

Momiji’s father is the one who tells her about the option to wipe her memory. Not just in hopes of reeling back her sanity, but because he wants her to forget the lie he told. If she forgets that, maybe their marriage can go back to how it was. If she forgets that deep cut of betrayal, maybe she won’t look at him like he’s some misshapen stranger. 

She agrees as quickly as she had when he proposed. Together they decide that forgetting Momiji will ultimately be for the best.

At first when she recovers, things seem to return back to normal. But there’s always a piece missing as the years go on. There’s always something not quite right. Momiji’s father is paranoid and nervous -- the presence of his wife is no longer a comfort, but a stressor. And sometimes, for the briefest moment, he’ll catch her staring at him. Her eyes far off and distant, like she’s completely lost in thought, and the expression that rests on her face will be one of fear. When she comes back to herself, it’s as if she hadn’t even noticed. 

The zodiac mothers are told not to speak to her after her memory is erased, which suits most of them just fine (Haru’s mother took particular offense to the decision). Below is the relationship chart for pre-memory wipe: 

Friends with: Kureno’s mom, Haru’s mom, Shigure’s mom, Ritsu’s mom

Doesn’t like: Yuki’s mom, Hatori’s mom

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I don’t have a good reason (Bucky x depressed reader)

I don’t have a reason (Based loosely on Close the Door, by Beth Crowley)

Bucky barnes x reader

Word count 2316

Warnings: depression, tears, isolation, feeling worthless

Summary: Reader is depressed and tries to hide it from the rest of the team. But Bucky knows the signs all too well of someone who’s not doing well.

-----------------

“Night guys,” you said, smiling and waving to the rest of the Avengers. You had all gathered to watch a movie and you excused yourself for the night, saying you were tired. It was all fun and games. You appreciate everyone’s commentary about how unrealistic the fight scenes were. You all agreed about the mistakes that were made and had fun berating the movie.

But despite you trying to kid yourself, you couldn’t lie to your own mind, you wanted to be having fun, but you weren’t. 

You didn’t know exactly when it started, the bleak numbness that consumed you a little more each day. You turned your back on the others as they wished you good night, and dropped your plastered on smile as you rounded the corner. You didn’t have to pretend if no one was there.

You were walking up to your room, each step wearing you more out than the last. You felt tears prick your eyes but you didn’t know why. Not that you really cared. You opened your door and turned around to close it, surprised to see that Bucky wasn’t far behind you.

You paused at your door, and he greeted you. You put your smile back on, willing the tears away for now. Though you were sure it wasn’t nearly as convincing as the one you had worn all day. “What’s up Buck?” you asked. 

He stood in front of you, looking to either side of him to make sure you were alone. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head and tried to look surprised. “Yeah,” you added a laugh. “Just tired I guess.”

He crossed his arms, searching your face for a crack you hoped you had hidden. You didn’t want to have this conversion, not yet, not here. He asked agaiN, “Are you sure you’re alright? You just -”

“Buck, I swear, it’s just exhaustion. I should get to bed. Good night.” you said, shutting the door. You leaned back against it and held your breath, waiting to hear him walk away. You heard him sigh after a few moments, probably running a hand through his long hair, and you eventually heard him walk away. 

You sighed and sank to the floor, finally letting your guard down. You didn’t know why you didn’t want the others to know, you trusted them with your life. You wish you could tell them the truth and show them who you were behind closed doors, but you were terrified that if they really saw who you were that they’d hate you as much as you had come to hate yourself.

You felt the tears come, and again, you had no idea why they did. You didn’t really care anymore. Knowing why they were there wouldn’t stop them from falling. You just buried your head in between your knees and tried to contain the sobs that were causing your shoulders to shake. 

You didn’t even know why you were so upset. Nothing big had happened, there were no tragic events in your life, and everyone you knew was healthy and most of the time happy. You didn’t have a reason to be so down. And you didn’t know what had caused you to hate yourself so much. You had been a confident person up until sometime in the past few months. You were doubting yourself even though you had no reason to. 

Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to tell anyone. You couldn’t explain it, and you knew that anyone on the team would want an explanation that you couldn’t provide. 

Sometimes you just wanted someone to notice. You wanted to scream sometimes “Can’t you see that I’m not okay? Don’t you fucking notice??” But you also knew that you hid it really well. And you couldn’t be too angry with them. Bucky had just asked if you were okay and you shut the door in his face.

You sighed in frustration. Your own mind wasn’t making sense anymore. How were you supposed to deal with your own shit when you didn’t even know what you were thinking?

You sat there for a while. How long, again, you didn’t care. You just cried until your body couldn’t anymore from exhaustion. Only then could you stand to walk over to your bed. You stumbled a bit at first, trying to find your balance, but then you walked the 10 steps to your bed and fell into it. You didn’t bother to put on anything more comfortable. It wouldn’t help you sleep any better, and you were tired enough to sleep standing up if you had to.

You stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes. Could things get any worse than they were now? You supposed they could in your environment. Something could happen to someone on the team, a mission could go wrong, something along those lines. But you didn’t think it was possible for your mind to become any darker than it was.

You closed your eyes and prayed you would rest peacefully tonight. Sleep evaded you, often playing a game of hide and seek with your mind and body. You could find it impossible to keep your eyes open but yet you couldn’t fall asleep. It always confused you why your mind was so keen on keeping you awake to endure it’s torture. Like you didn’t get enough of that when you were conscious.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You tossed and turned for longer than you would’ve liked, thinking various self-deprecating thoughts and assumptions about how the team would react if they found out. There was no best case scenario in your mind. 

Eventually you did fall asleep, but it was later (or earlier) than you would have wanted to. Luckily there was nothing on the books for you until the afternoon, so you slept for as long as you could. Even though you slept until noon, you still wanted to get a few more hours than you did. But that would have to wait until you tried again tonight.

You sat up and tried to wipe the sleep from your eyes. Standing, you walk to your bathroom and turn on the shower, hoping the hot water would help jolt you awake. And if not, then you would turn the temperature all the way down. That always did the trick in desperate times.

When you finished you walk back into your room, deciding to dress down in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. You paused in front of your door and took a few breaths, psyching yourself to put a smile on your face before you opened the door. You never left without it. You were trying to be everything that they wanted and needed you to be.

Turning the knob, you walk down the hallway and through the living area to the kitchen. There wasn’t anyone in your sights, and you shrugged it off. They were either in the gym, the lab, or out to enjoy the day. You wished you could do the same. 

Deciding it was safe enough to do so, you dropped the facade you had put on. No use in wasting your energy if you didn’t have to pretend for anyone. You opened up the fridge and pulled out the orange juice, not feeling up to eating anything solid but knowing you needed something to kickstart your system.

Reaching for a glass, you turned around and started pouring. You rubbed a hand over your tired face. How were you sleeping more and yet the days were growing longer?

“Hey, something wrong?”

You jumped a little, not having heard anyone come in. you look up to see that it was Bucky, and he had obviously just come from the gym. You tugged the corners of your lips up and shook your head. “Yeah, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

He laughed gently. “Is that why you got up so late?”

You chuckled before raising your eyebrows. “I suppose so, Barnes.”

You took a sip before looking back at him. “You sure you’re okay doll?”

You faltered for a moment. Did you really want to tell him? Maybe it would be nice to have someone try and understand. But you quickly shook off the thought. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask instead.

He shrugged and shook his head lightly. “It just seems like something’s bothering you. Whenever I ask if you’re okay you say you’re tired, yet you never look like you’re getting any sleep. I just want to know if there's anything I can do.”

You looked down and tapped your finger on the counter. He seemed genuine, and you wanted to trust him. You really did. But you were so scared that he’d see you the way that you saw yourself.

Nothing. 

Worthless

Useless

“Y/n?”

Shit, you must have spaced out. You tried a smile again, but you knew it was growing weaker. You had to get out of there. “No, I’m good. Thank you though, I appreciate it,” you said, making your way to the doorway. You heard your voice waiver and you prayed that he hadn’t noticed, but the sound of footsteps behind you confirmed that he was on to you.

Getting to your door, you knew you couldn’t say anything else without completely breaking down, so you tried to close the door behind you, but you felt something stop it. Bucky was standing in the doorway, hand against the door. 

You kept your eyes downcast, fearing that he would see the pain behind the lies or the tears that were forming in them. You tried to shut the door again but it was no use, since he was, in fact, a super soldier. 

“Please tell me what’s going on.” he said gently, stepping into the room.

You turn your back to him and cross your arms over your chest. Your breath was even but shaky, you would not have a panic attack in the presence of someone else. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you tensed, wanting to give in so badly but so afraid of what he’d think or say. How did you even let yourself crack this much?

You suddenly made a move for your bathroom, planning to shut Bucky out again, but he stopped the door before you could, again. “Don’t try and shut me out.” he said. You kept your back to him, afraid to show the panic spreading across your face. “It’s okay to have emotions. You don’t have to hide from me.”

You shook your head and said softly, “I don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”

“What are you talking about y/n?”

You turned around and met his gaze, worried about lacing his features when he saw the tears in your eyes. “I don’t even know what’s going on with me. I can’t explain it.” you let a few tears run down your cheeks as you shook your head. “I just know I’m not okay.”

You started crying harder and Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. Your hands curled up and were pressed between both of your chests, and you buried your head into his shoulder. He held you tightly, being your anchor right now. 

The words just started tumbling out of your mouth and you couldn’t stop them. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I’m such a mess. I just started feeling so empty and like nothing mattered. I fall apart once I’m behind closed doors and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, doll?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I wanted to, I really did. I don’t know, I just…” you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “I was afraid you would see me the way that I see myself. That if you knew the mess that I am you would leave me far behind.”

“Hey,” he started. “Don’t you ever think like that. First of all, we all love you here and there’s nothing that could change that. You’re a part of the team, and teams stick together. It’s okay to have emotions, it’s okay to not be strong all the time, it’s okay to break down, and it’s okay to not have a reason for any of it. Sometimes that’s how emotions work, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with you.”

You tried to swallow the new lump forming in your throat. You shook your head against him. “I’m sorry Buck”

You felt him shake his head. “You don’t have to be. But you don’t have to be alone in this either.”

You sniffled a little and asked tentatively, “So you’re not going to leave?”

You felt him laugh a little. “Unfortunately, doll, you’re stuck with me. There’s nothing you can do about it. Push me away, shut all the doors, I’m not going anywhere.”

You laughed a little and pulled back, looking up at him. “Thank you, Buck.”

He half-smiled at you. “Anytime.”

You took a deep breath before asking, “So now what?”

“Well,” he started, “I say we just spend the rest of the day watching movies and relaxing, but I’m not sure if you had better plans.” he looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

You laughed again. “No, shockingly, I don’t. That sounds good to me.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day movie-marathoning it sitting on your bed. You started leaning against the headboard, but eventually made your way curled up into Bucky, him with his arm around you. At some point you had fallen asleep, and you drifted off into the most peaceful rest you had ever had.

[emeraldtawny]

IkeVam Headcanons: Crying Headcanons (Angst)

...I apologise for nothing. This was spawned by some filthy enablers in the IkeVamp Discord server (you all know who you are....love u guys uwu). 

Vague structure is as follows: how they would cry and what made them cry. Full steam angst ahead. Enjoy~ ^w^

~

Napoleon 

Life as an Emperor made him establish a stone face; show no weakness or emotion and let no one see you struggling. This led to Napo always bottling up his emotions whenever he felt the need to cry. And he was too good at doing so, people being none the wiser when he bottled up his frustration, his anger, his despair. However, there was a limit, even for him. When his mentality is withered down to nothing and he can’t hold back the tears any longer, his breath will leave him with a choke and a single tear will squeeze out despite itself. He’d hastily wipe it away and attempt to recollect himself, but he’s too tired, too burdened, the faint cacophony of war echoing within his brain like an inescapable terror. Perhaps that’s another reason why he sleeps so much...

~

Mozart 

He would be physical to stop himself from crying when he feels it bubbling up. He'd punch walls, door frames, even his dear piano if there was nothing else close by. But the pain from his punches would only fuel his tears, his face tight with rage and a snarl on his lips, but his eyes sparkling with tears and his eyebrows desperately pulled together. He’d be cursing at himself as he felt the first tear fall, his self-berating words only growing into a crescendo in his ears as he fights with - and loses to - himself. He’ll probably clench his fists enough to cut his palms with his nails. His reason for crying? Simply put, he feels worthless, he doesn't feel improvement in his music despite others' praise. 

~

Leonardo 

None would consider the Renaissance genius an emotional man, even in private. And he is well aware of this stigma people have crafted for him and has since molded to it himself. Leo would be able to school his features perfectly so no one knows he's upset (except Comte of course). When MC falls asleep cuddled up sweetly against his chest and he knows she's out, he lets a soft, choked sigh escape and finally lets a few tears out, stroking her hair softly as he does so. He lies there just....dwelling on her existence, knowing her not being as long for this world as him and it weighs on him so much that sometimes he just needs to cry. But he'll only do it in front of MC when she sleeps, so she won’t see him at his weakest. He doesn’t think he could bear it.

~

Arthur  

He would try to smile and play it off that he’s fine when he cries, even though the smile would be shaky at the edges as his lips tremble and he tries to blink back his tears. MC would just watch the collapsing of his smile, his mental state, his resilience; she would be watching a man fall apart. Tears collect in his eyes, but they wouldn’t fall until he does first, his knees collapsing and him hunching over himself as he digs the heels of his palms directly into his eyes. His breaths would be shaky, shallow and he’d be whispering countless choked apologies and baseless self-deprecating remarks of himself. He’s sinking into the black, inky depths of his own mind and even when he wails, even when he screams for release, it all feels hopeless. How he survived without MC there to pull him back from the brink of himself, he does not know. But he’s thankful for it every time, without fail.

~

Vincent 

He may be akin to a doll and when he cries it's with the same beauty, but more in the way of if you saw an actual doll crying; unsettling and spine-chilling. For him, it'd feel like his blood stopped pumping, his body stopped responding to him. He knows that he's crying, but he can't wipe away his tears, can't lift his hands to cover his eyes, can't open his mouth to wail; nothing. His mind is screaming though, and it screams so loud that it drowns out everything else. His baby blue eyes are more striking with a thick ring of red outlining them and his bottom lip quivering like a frail fallen leaf, the faint taste of salt on his tongue from the tears streaming without obstacle down his face and past his open lips. Years of repressed and unknown emotions mean that when he cries, he cries until he physically can't anymore and needs to sleep it off. And when he wakes up? He doesn't remember a thing.

~

Theodorus 

Theo would be pretty physical like Mozart, but just in a more violent yet shorter outburst. He might have thrown a vase to the ground with a groaned yell and shattered it into pieces, his fists clenched tight and his chest heaving with heavy breaths, as if the air was viscous and unyielding in its oxygen. The adrenaline subsides and he just sees the room around him submerge in water. When MC runs in frantically and worriedly asks what's wrong, he pulls her into a death grip embrace and rasps out to stay still and not look at him. She'll comfort him until he loosens his grip enough for her to hug him back and he'll keep his head buried in her shoulder. His cries are shaky exhales and the rogue tear that seeps into her blouse goes purposefully unnoticed by her for his own sake. His reason? The art world is shit, obstacles at every turn, and even Theo ain't strong enough to deal with that every day without fail.

~

Dazai 

He would keep smiling through his crying until his face basically collapses into one big sob...and then, silent crying. Not a whisper of sound; no sudden intake of breath or rasped exhale. Just a man standing there with his head hung low and his mauve bangs masking the glassy, lifeless expression of long-established despair on his face. Tear streaks run down his cheeks and tears hang off of his lashes with his gold irises accentuated by his reddened eyes, yet not one ounce of emotion can be seen - can be felt - emanating from him. He just feels overwhelming moments of despair and nothingness at very frequent times. Most times, he can handle it; it’s what he knows, daresay what he’s comfortable with. But sometimes the stress of...life is just too much. Oddly fitting for a man who wants to die but can't. 

~

Isaac 

Despite his best efforts, when Isaac gets too upset to handle, he becomes extremely volatile. He would collapse to his knees and hold his chest with a pained expression. His eyes would be open, wide with fear, as he physically feels the sob bubbling within his chest and rising into his throat like a lump of lead. Moments pass in agony until he lets out a strained sob that rips from his throat and sends a dull yet prevalent pump of blood to his head, a moment of dizziness passing over him. After that, he quietly cries, curled into himself and resting his head atop his clenched hands, letting the tears soak into his skin, hoping - praying - that the pain will stop. If he happens to be in a public space when he gets overwhelmed with emotion, he’ll be quick to extrapolate himself and hide away in a secluded spot, crying with short, almost hyperventilating breaths and whispering “I’m okay, I’m okay” over and over.

~

Jean 

The type to have the most guttural sobs where his throat is ragged and dry, and his breaths heave with effort. He would bottle it up until his vision physically blurs, his tears lining his eyes and obscuring his vision, and he would run to an isolated place if he wasn’t there already. Every time he cries, he hears swords clashing, groans of pain; every drop of blood, sweat and tears of Jean’s falls for those who have fallen for him. A growl of pain wretches from his throat and his fist collides with the nearest wall. He rests his back against the same wall and lets his feet slip out from under him as he sinks to the floor, glaring with frustration at the ceiling until the storm clouds clear from his conscience.

~

Shakespeare 

Shakes would seem to be the type that doesn't realise he's crying until he feels it or until someone points it out. But what if he was well aware that he was crying? But his smile would look so natural and out of place to his blood and gold eyes shimmering with tears that no one would know whether to approach him over the situation or not. It’s like the boy who cried wolf; no one would know he’s actually in pain because all they see is deceit. So when he feels his heart finally begin to pump with pain, he wears a smile even when his own eyes betray him. When he has a moment to himself, he'll dab his eyes calmly with his handkerchief, all the while biting on his tongue - hard enough to bleed - to stop any unbecoming sounds escaping him. He'll massage his closed eyelids to recollect himself and return to business as usual. Sometimes, even Shakes doesn’t know why he has these moments, his memories too repressed to remember the reason for his own tragedy.

~

Comte de Saint-Germaine 

Like the other immortal, he presents himself in a way to suggest crying being a foreign sensation to him and, when he does cry, tries to repress it where he can. He at least has more of his head on to know when it's safe to cry; alone or in front of MC. He won't sob, he won't wail. If anything, it'll look like he's the one comforting MC, him holding her head against his chest so she can't see the strain on his face as he desperately holds back his tears. A few will fall - glistening scarlet, tears of immortal blood - and he’ll catch them on the back of his hand to prevent them from staining her hair red. But she won't say a word, simply embrace him back and let him cry in complete silence. Being an immortal vampire with responsibilities and obligations weighing on you every second of your endless life? It’s a miracle that the Comte hasn't broken down more.

~

Sebastian 

Surrounded by his work and with hardly a moment to let his thoughts get the better of them, when Sebas does let his walls down, it will be controlled. He would let out a shuddering breath, his eyelids closing and his breaths forced into and out of his lungs in a controlled manner. Attempting to control his quickly spiraling thoughts, his brows furrow and his hands at work pause. The tightness and anxiety in his chest grows and he allows himself a quiet sob over the sink, before--  Tick tock tick tock.  Only a few seconds passed, but they felt too long to Sebastian, his head hanging over the sink. Splashing his face with water and with a few good slaps to his cheeks, he reassures himself that he has no time for this - that if he has time to cry, then he has time to work. With a couple of sniffles to fully rid his body of its lasting bout of sadness, his hands begin to move again to finish preparing dinner. Even the perfect butler needs a moment of reprieve sometimes.

[tuesdayx]

So I thought it would be fun to do a song-by-song breakdown of our latest album Essential.

Essential started as some rough demos designated for a side project in late 2019, which then became our largest album to date in terms of song selection. Many of the themes deal with learning to cope with the changing world thanks to Covid, with a perspective of someone who had to keep working at an "essential" job with no option of self-quarantine. I was happy to continue working and being able to pay my bills over the past year, but there was always elements of stress, fear, and tension lingering over myself and everyone else in my position.

So here we go; starting from the top let's look at the Songs of Tuesday X's 6th album Essential.

1. Jet Fuel Can't Melt Steel Beams: the title was a reference to the 9/11 conspiracy memes, which as stated in the opening lines, "has nothing to do with this song." Written in January of 2020 before Covid had made any significant impact in the US, the song touches on many themes which happened to occur throughout the year, such as [another] Californian forest fire (Australia too), new diseases (Covid), a riot (the BLM movement over the summer, which I will state everything that movement has been fighting for is 100% justified and the United States is in desperate need of Police reform, as does our political system which has remained inherently racist to this day.), Civil War (and exaggeration for sure, but the civil unrest and political division in our country will soon split us apart further), more corporate giants(companies like Amazon profited more from this Pandemic than ever before and have helped further the gap between the American working class and the top 1%). Favorite line: "I won't get philosophical, I only wanted your attention."

2. The Only Difference Between You and Me is a Sense of Apathy and Your Brand New Nikes: This song is a blithing criticism of the American political system. Our two party system has left Americans with a choice between "the lesser of two evils" and allows politicians with no true interest in our needs to rise to power. The use of 3rd parties as an alternative is a overly simple compromise that would only just begin to alleviate the problems created in our political system. Both of our main parties are considered conservative parties to the rest of the world, and any progressive measures that would benefit society and reduce the effects of climate change are considered radical and preposterous by politicians with financial stakes in our crooked system where corporatations hold control and the people are treated as fuel for an otherwise worthless currency. Favorite line: "Listen to the radio, they played my favorite song. Now I'm bored and wanting more."

3. Blame it on the Elves: the title is a reference to an episode of the Podcast "Lore" by Aaron Menke (i can't recall which episode, but you should check it out anyway because it's great listen.) An instrumental interlude inspired by ragtime music of the 1920-30's, with an edge of course.

4. Class of Dropouts: This song was written when I was 16 during my sophomore year of high school and was originally featured on my now unavailable album "trees" before adopting the Tuesday X monicker. I brought it back 6 years later because I loved how raw and punk it was. The lyrics are dorky but I decided to leave them as is, it's a cool track for high school stoners to blare and let out their teen angst. Favorite line: "Walking in on my friends fucking."

5. Polaroids on My Bulletin Board: This is a song about growing up. As a 22 year old (now 23) who decided not to go to college straight out of high school, I felt isolated from my peers in a way. By going into the workfield right away I sometimes feel like I skipped a few years and missed out on a lot of opportunities. I regret not leaving my hometown sooner than I did and chasing my dreams of being a touring musician in a band. More often than not I reminisce of my youth playing shows and getting into trouble, as I now feel old and out of place in a scene I grew up in. Favorite line: "I know what it's like to be alive, I know what it's like to live a lie."

6. Labradoodle Underpass: Going back on the theme of growing up, this is about my recent experience with shows as an adult. When I was a teenager I felt ambitious and ready for anything, and I would drop literally everything to go to the nearest show. As an adult I feel introverted and constantly anxious about the world around me. I've missed out on a lot of great shows due to my own self doubt's and anxiety. Now that shows have been canceled for over a year I feel even more regret by not appreciating them more while I could. Favorite line: "23 years and a lingering fear that anything could happen, why am I here?"

7. Some Shit: This was me trying to be modest mouse lol jangly guitars and half talking/half singing vocals describing the world around me. I guess in a way it was an exercise in writing character description and setting, but otherwise it's just a chill track that almost feels aimless at parts. Favorite Line: "it's just some shit I learned from a friend. Just some shit I learned when I was trying to prepare."

8: Woe is the World: On the album this is a chorus snippet that barely a minute long (the full version is available as a bonus track on bandcamp, and it was actually a demo that turned out better than the final version.) I originally wrote this song when I was 15 with a different set of lyrics, but I came back to it while writing this album and re-wrote it to reflect my mental state and the world around me. Overall, just another melancholy track in a sea of melancholy songs. Favorite line: "you've never felt more alone than you do now, was everything worth it in the end?"

9. Then Why Was it Named Gideon?: the title is a reference to a line in Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour (my favorite series) and like the first track on this album doesn't have much to do with the song. "Gideon" is a simple love song, talking again about how growing up sucks but having the right person by your side can make all the shitty times worth it in the end. Favorite line: "it's time to move on, you're taking too long."

10. I am Here, I'm Looking at Her, and She is Beautiful: This song is entirely about the book "Perks of Being a Wallflower". That's it. Nothing else, let's move on. Favorite line: "Over Christmas I read them a poem about a brown paper bag and the boy who wrote it."

11. Try to Be a Filter, Not a Sponge: Like the previous song, this one is also mostly about "Perks of Being a Wallflower", but with elements of my own experience with toxic relationships. I like to think of it as the character Charlie's experience with Mary Elizabeth overall though. Favorite line: "She called my favorite book washed out trash, said I have no taste and I'm still too sad."

12. Lavender Spray Bottle: This instrumental dates back to 2017. I recorded the guitar part as a demo on my phone and forgot about it. Over time I forgot how to play the guitar part, so I used the demo as a basis and layered everything else on top of it. The title is a reference to a bottle of water with lavender essential oils mixed in that my ex used to fend away spiders in the house we lived in at the time.

13. Hindsight is 2020: I will admit, this is my favorite song on the whole album and was actually the last to be written and recorded. With a simple guitar part and layers of vocals, this song is a direct reflection of life during the peak of the pandemic. With curfews in place and rising case counts, I had to learn to cope with life at home during my late nights away from work. My partner was quarantined during this time and I reflected on the mental strain this put on her. Favorite line: "Don't go to work, you need the money but you're not happy when you're there. Sometimes life is so unfair."

14. I Don't Know How to Deal With Serious Emotions Without Turning Them into a Fucking Joke: the title came from a meme I found on my phone from high school. The song itself was about my own inability to handle serious emotions without coming off as sarcastic. In both the music and lyrics, the song starts as a simple confession before exploding into raw chaos. Favorite line: "it's so hard. I'm so scared, what have I become?"

15. Say Hello to My Little Friend: the last instrumental on this album. A short haunting tune that reflects the final two tracks. The title is probably a reference to Rambo or something, but I never watched it and I thought it fit the feeling of this song.

16. Minneapolis: What became one of the most emotional tracks on this song actually began as a joke. My partner was snap chatting a friend one night and they asked me to write them a song on the spot. So I improvised the first two verses and chorus of this song, referencing her going to school there at the time. I found I actually liked what I had written however, so I refined the track and changed it from a sassy country song into a melancholic lament of my experience in the twin cities and southern Minnesota. Favorite line: "I miss Camp Snoopy, and Paul Bunyon's log flume ride that went around the whole damn mall."

17. Before the Sunrise: the final song on the album is an intimate look at my relationship with my partner. Through past experiences i have become riddled with self doubt and always looking at improving myself as a person. With hopes that one day I'll be the person I'd like to be for mine and their sake, it's an optimistic tribute to my best friend. Favorite line: "the cycle ends until the sun rises again, you're my best friend."

Thank you all so much! Check out Essential and our other music on Bandcamp, Spotify, Apple, and other places! I hope you all enjoyed this personal look at these songs that got me through the worst parts of 2020.

[raguna-blade]

So carrying on the shared symbol thing with persona games, here’s a fun one that probably needs more time in the oven but hey, can come back later with later revelations

So, here’s one that technically shows up in the first game but doesn’t really become a thing until (I am assuming, i still need to actually play the first few and finish most of them but whatever) Persona 3

Evokers! Also known as guns. Specifically hand guns, but I think that’s the least important detail when one of the big symbols of your game is shooting yourself in the head to summon mythic figures.

So Evokers. In game, and as per the wiki, they are supposed to function by more or less...making you face mortality and the fact that you’re going to die for real.

By simulating shooting yourself in the face. It’s a good thing that the Kirijo group already got their mad science comeuppance because man, that’s kinda...

But hey, the logic and rules at play here do seem to be consistent across the games. To Summon a persona requires, apparently, a huge amount of stress and or trauma to activate properly, and the Evokers are a fast way to do that that isn’t, comparatively anyway, super duper traumatic. It’s free artificial trauma for everyone that is comparatively less permanent.

Which...Well I don’t believe that for a second considering SEES is one big trauma center. I don’t think there is a single person in that group who is trauma free really. Nobody is free of it, even the dog.

I mean maybe the protag, but they come off as super depressed to me.

But for the moment let’s accept that as true. If i’m wrong i’m wrong, but I think i’m right and i want to get to the juicy stuff.

So given evokers function by applying trauma directly to the soul to summon yon persona, I think it’s obvious then what guns are SUPPOSED to represent right?

Trauma. But not just any kind of trauma no. Remember, Evokers are supposed to basically be going Hey Trauma But For A REASON. To Summon a Persona. A persona which is used to protect yourself from something (Shadows technically, but A persona is a mask used to face life’s struggles as the games are so fond of reminding us.)

So, Guns are Trauma Turned Towards Protecting Yourself from...something. My understanding of psych stuff is you know, layman, but basically it’s an active self defense mechanism. Or at least turning that pain on outside hurty things.

So if this holds true as a consistent and shared symbol going forward, we should expect that everyone who uses a gun is both

A: Traumatized in some manner.

2: Actively Defending themselves possibly by literally using that trauma against things.

Which i’m sure is totally a healthy thing to be doing. Has to be. Can’t not be right?

I can see no possible way in which using your trauma like a club against the world can possibly backfire on you.

SO!

Who uses guns in the series going forward.

In Persona 4, We have two for sure, maybe a third. That is Naoto, Adachi, and Maybe Dojima (I assume he HAS a gun, but I don’t think he’s ever shown using it. I’m going to assume for the moment this is true as fits the analysis, cause it fits well enough, but if he actually pulls it out ehh)

Persona 5 has uh...literally all of the phantom thieves. Technically not morganna, but if you think a slingshot isn’t basically a fire arm, well sure technically but also you can absolutely kill someone with a slingshot don’t get it twisted. But yeah, all of the phantom thieves and ESPECIALLY Akechi, since he uses a real one. Well, sans Futaba, but we’ll get there.

And do these individuals demonstrate being both traumatized AND using that as some kind of defense mechanism...?

yeh.

So start with P4. Now compare the other persona users in 3-5, the group in 4 is actually really well adjusted. Like yeah, you have some elements of stress and being an outcast and elements of weird harrowing stuff happening to them sure. I mean if nothing else they’re in the middle of a murder mystery with a serial killer in town, that’s stressful for anyone, let alone the weird supernatural shit on top of it, and then there’s the more mundane stressors.

But...Uh...Largely, they’re handling it pretty well actually. Protag was pretty alright moving to town and seems to get along with people well. Yosuke had the dislike of being in town but he had friends, he wasn’t really hated or anything. Chie is pretty alright, Yukiko is stressed but not exactly freaking out, Kanji has some shame going on however you want to frame that i’m told it reads different for japanese audiences though it’s not mutually exclusive, Teddie DID in fact have an existential crisis but that’s not really the same thing i think, Rise is hella stressed, and then there’s naoto who uh.

Kid’s got some problems. They’re also the only one who uses a gun So Hey First stop.

So depending on how you want to read it, Naoto is either dealing with some trans issues or just aggressive and unending misogyny given their profession. Personally while i can see the naoto is trans reading, the game doesn’t explicitly come out with that as the issue, while it DOES with the misogyny so I’m going with that. If you do think it’s more that than what i’m going with, you can easily sub it in I think since from what i’ve heard on the subject suggests it very much CAN be traumatizing dealing with that in society....And also because it’d still feed back into the misogyny thing so it comes back to that anyway.

Regardless. This is a thorny enough issue really, so i’ll strive to not fuck up but please forgive me if I do cause it’s not intentional.

What do we see with Naoto? They’re a genuinely skilled, talented and experienced detective, and at a really young age. Their skills are undeniable really, and they’ve got acclaim and real accomplishments under their belt.

They are also, apparently, belittled constantly because they’re read as female and that is apparently far far more important than their skill. Because of that they’re belittled, talked down to and dismissed purely because of that.

And Naoto is fucking tired of it. So much so that they do everything in their power to present as male and believe they should straight up just...cut out whatever lady aspects are there and just go full dude.

Which here you get two really radically(?) different readings depending on if you fall on the Naoto is Trans and so fucking tired of the misogyny vs Naoto Is fucking Tired of the misogyny and so damn desperate.

In case A, Naoto genuinely believes they’re a dude, and genuinely believes duding it up will solve their problem....But they’re rejecting that part of themselves actively, and refusing to acknowledge it at all. That’s a problem for him, if only because actively rejecting a part of yourself is by no means a healthy thing, especially when it keeps getting brought up constantly in your line of work (I can only imagine how much this would suck to be dismissed because people think you’re a girl when you’re a guy but also you’re denying that you’re a guy and recognize that even if you were outwardly a guy they would STILL dismiss you as a girl even though you’re not. Just typing that out is...yech.)

In Case B, you have a still tired of the dismissal, but also they think they radically need to change their body and gender just to get anywhere in the world which is egregiously fucked up because you know. She’s good at her job! Why should she HAVE to be a dude to get anything done? It’s fucked up.

But they’re a gunman! So...i mean i guess it’s obvious what the trauma at play here is, it’s gender related regardless of how you slice it and how is it used...? Naoto disguises (or “disguises”) themselves as a guy, actively using the thing that they’re being traumatized by to fight back against the world in some way.

I mean as thorny as the issue is in the reading it, the outcome is at least simple enough under the shared symbols thing.

Ok, but what about Adachi...? Welllllllllllllllllll

Adachi is definitely traumatized I think but it's not in the kind of way that's sharp and specific. I'm cribbing a bit off of [https://youtu.be/8qG8Mqe_1v8] with their description of how Adachi reacts to the Scoobies calling him out.

To summarize and or paraphrase, it's not that there's a specific thing that broke Adachi down. It's that he's trapped in a job he hates, or at least without the possibility of improvement. He's shoved in a backwater town when he's a city boy. He feels ignored, he doesn't like the people around him very much, he's got basically no money, he has no significant other, he has to just keep going and existing day in and day out and it's...

God it's so fucking soul killing.

It's not like his childhood was better apparently, in that it basically was a prelude to adult hood but also unlike then, he didn't have the supposed promise of do well in school and get cool shit that was summarily broken.

So what's a guy who's made to feel worthless, made to feel like a nobody, made to feel utterly disenfranchised, and has actual evidence to support some of this (keep in mind the reason he got reassigned did involve him screwing up somehow, though I don't think it's explained what or how) going to react when given the ability to act out with no consequences, or seemingly?

Well, I imagine that you would see them do some fucked up shit really. We've seen people in real life do things just as bad if not worse, and the exact way he wields his trauma is well...sadly understandable to anyone.

Though another interesting shared thing, which I neglected earlier and MAY share into the Gun Imagery is a sense of isolation. Which...Actually. Actually may track. Evokers are used by well...ritualistically killing yourself, which is for all the harm it throws out to everyone connected to you, is also a very solitary act. And in both cases here, the characters are in a very real way killing their true selves in order to deal with the world (In adachis case by presenting a fake version of himself and in Naoto's case by actively rejecting a part of themselves however you want to spin that one)

This does raise a question of the SEES gang having elements of isolation which off hand I want to say yes that's the case across the board, and only by coming together do they win but I also legitimately cannot recall how it plays out beyond the minimal We're The Only Ones Capable of Dealing With This thing which isn't quite the same thing. The ritualized killing yourself still stands so that's still in play really, and i'll keep an eye on it going forward.

I should probably ALSO keep an eye on the uh...Suicide aspects. Even looking back at Naoto and Adachi they have elements of it, although more figurative than literal. Both very much have a life is over thing related to their careers and where they end up when first introduced, so it's not an unreasonable call though the strict actual read of suicide suicide is...Hmmm...

Well I suppose Adachi's chunk of the world is accessed through the noose room if I recall, so that might not be quite as empty a connection, while Naoto's secret lab thing may not be quite as on the nose it does focus on a destruction of self in some way given the way a lot of those secret labs go about doing things in those shows.

That is, there's generally one of two outcomes. Either the Evil Org creates a mindless/corrupted pawn to use whatever their powers/abilities are for the organization (see every monster of the week) OR they create a hero/renegade warrior that uses those very same powers they were imbued with against them....Which suddenly makes me wonder if the the ambiguity of if Naoto's transness vs woman in male spaces thing is intentional in regards to how to read that section. If so that's actually clever as hell because then either way you want to read it the literal what's going on with their shadow (body modification either to become their true self and the rejection of that or to be able to actually be respected for their work and the implied destruction of self that's going on there) it reads as this is bad so...Kudos.

Anyway, off topic, maybe another day.

All this said, this leads to Dojima who SHOULD have a gun and probably does, but...never uses it that I can recall, not once. Doesn't even show up with a gun if memory serves.

It's not that he's not traumatized. He most definitely does have some shit kicking around what with the dead wife, disconnect from his daughter and all that, but he never really...weaponizes it does he? He never turns it on others, never uses it to isolate, none of that. Which is interesting because as a Cop I think we can safely say he SHOULD have a gun of some flavor right? That does seem to be the vibe, and yet he doesn't freak out. The reason why is heartfully straightforward though.

Nanako. He can't exactly revel in his hurt and lash out at folks with it. Like yes, he's not winning parent of the year at the start of the game by a long shot, but frankly emotionally distant and neglectful after your wife died but still trying (failing but trying, critically, the trying) is not the worst spot to be in, no way. And he takes to reorienting things quite well once he get's the additional stability in his life Yu and (at least in part) Adachi.

Which, really, is what also ended up saving the SEES members. Not Yu, but the fact that they managed to form genuine connections with each other that let them get past the hurt and not be taken up and swallowed by it. It's why Adachi ended up going the way he did because he really DIDN'T forge those connections, and because of the whole everything he couldn't really get out of that loop and fix himself up.

I mean Izanami's game basically threw two whole ass people into the deep end of their problems but this ain't about her right now.

So ok, that's the group from 4 and right now this is feeling pretty consistent.

So let's get to the group that has literally every party member carrying with The Phantom Thieves.

So...again, to bring it back, Guns symbolically here are weaponized trauma right? They're using that to strike back against what's threatening you, often by using it against them.

Now, there are variances with the phantom thieves for sure, and the most relevant and DIRECT one is that all of them, every last one, is an outcast of some flavor from the social norms, and this has screwed with them something fierce. Now it's not as apparent or visible in all cases, but I'll get into specifics as we go down the list, but I want to say this at the top because it fundamentally comes down to Because Of this outcast status, this particular form of trauma, they became the Phantom Thieves, and in doing so struck back against the society that hurt them, with the intent to inspire those like them.

Well not Akechi, but his specific issues at least nominally align I guess.

Anyway. I won't go into as much detail here, but I feel it's worth pointing out that their Phantom Thieves Personas are probably the cleanest way to point out how they go about weaponizing their various more personalized traumas to protect themselves and fight back.

Joker: Accused of a crime he didn't commit, sent to a city away from his family and friends, said to be a violent felon...Like it's not exactly brought up in the game in part because he's a silent protag but Joker absolutely had his life ruined. Like full stop, his world fell apart over night, not because he did something wrong but because he tried to do the right thing. And then Kamoshida happened which basically took boyo from being merely fucked over to losing what little he had left (where what he had left was a friend of a friend of his folks taking him in and shoving him in a drafty attic)

And then from said trauma he created the well...Joker Persona. Someone who emphatically is a criminal, the kind of guy who is actually pretty ominous when you consider the knife,gun and dark outfit combo making him look like some kind of assassin. That he helps people is probably a small miracle really.

But by the same token, it's blatantly clear the persona that he pretends at school is not his true self either. He has to hide himself, make himself look small and innocent and as unthreatening as humanly possible. He's not, by any means but...

Morgana: Imagine you wake up one day and you remember maybe your name, a few random bits of information, and nothing else except that you were (probably) a human and now decidedly are not. That's...Rough man. It's just rough to deal with and it's awful, and then you just keep getting hit with that fact over and over and over again. Mona's pretty straightforward, but it tracks that they would make themselves out to be the cool collected sort that they do (even though they botch it nigh constantly). If you can't remember anything about yourself, make yourself out to be the coolest smartest most talented type right?

Ryuji: He literally had an authority figure not only mock his family situation, he straight up broke his leg, killed his dream of running track, ostracized him from his friends and peers, put more pressure on his mom. He was reduced to a thug and his response to that was, apparently, let me be a (diet) delinquent then. It's not like he did anything bad really but he certainly stopped giving any kind of a shit to the world. His attitude got turned up for sure. This got more emphasized with the Actual Skull persona as a phantom thief, where he's far more intimidating, outright hostile and violent (A bat and a shotgun? yee)

Ann: I mean there's the obvious sexual assault, her friend attempting suicide, etc, but i've seen it pointed out that a good chunk of Ann's problems are also based in the fact that she's white in japan, so basically she straight up has to deal with racism too. It's why she's considered the sexy one for example (girls like her are easy you understand) so it's...well. How the game handles (or doesn't) that aside, the persona she ends up developing first off a very blithe sort of vibe to how the world views her (seen in her confidant arc) before ultimately gravitating to having more active control over her image and consciously choosing how the world will view her instead of them making the choice themselves.

Yusuke: Abusive parents (which is damn near a theme with the phantom thieves. Families being broken or Abusive which is hm) who actively stole his work, and he knew about it. It very clearly messes with his art and his relationship to this thing that he loves, and even after knowing how his adoptive dad was abusing him and other students and making a mockery of art...To which he actively throws himself into Art EVEN HARDER than before, as a dedicated fuck you on the subject. Actually straightforward, which is perhaps weird for Yusuke, but hey they can't all require deeper reading.

Makoto: Makoto's deal is a bit more complicated but boils down to She's tired of having all these expectations pushed onto her and dictating the exact kind of person she should be. Always the good girl, always kind and elegant, soft spoken, I mean she knows aikido and is supposed to be good with it. Which is why she turns that around is basically Lord Humongous, albeit less jacked dude in bondage gear and more Badass Violence Biker. Just let it all out and take no shit from anyone ever. Again straightforward enough.

Futaba: Now...Here's a weird one to say because it's...She doesn't have a gun. I mean we could probably make a fair enough statement, if an absolutely buckwild one, that she does not at this point have a trauma. Or at least, not one that is weaponized. Because well...Her issues were very self focused. She thought her mom killed herself because of her, and that almost made her (futaba) kill herself. That's not a great place to be, but it's not like she ever takes her dead mom issues out on the world. She doesn't even really take her extreme social issues out on the world. If anything she pretty much...Has them and kind of deals with them quietly.

I suppose you could say that her weapon of choice is the computer. It's no gun, obviously, but unlike everyone else up til this point she also doesn't really...hide herself. There's no fake persona (in the not summoned beings of myth and story) that she presents to the world. She's decisively genuine about everything, and pretty much the only difference between her and her Oracle persona is neat goggles yeah? Which makes her an interesting pair with Maruki who we'll get to later as another gun not haver.

Haru: Kind of a complicated one, though also kinda straightforward. She's ostracized from her father and finds the abuse that he's laying down on the people who work for them abhorent, which is bad enough, that kind of realization that your life is built on the suffering of others. There's also the uh...It's not strictly this because arranged marriages are very much business affairs more than romance, but the way it's portrayed definitely reads as her dad selling her which is you know. Not...ideal, though her specific reservations there seemed less the arranged marriage (it's business she get's it) but more the dude was an creep and also again the abuse. The family motto being betray anyone to get ahead (paraphrased to hell and back) also suggests some not so great things really, though her bond with her dad did seem to be genuinely strong, which is why her reaction is tada heroine of justice.

Which, I just realized this and I gotta point it out, actually lines up MARVELOUSLY with Morgana and Zorro. Wealthy Individual who see's the crimes and evil deeds of the world and decides to mask up and fight the crime they cannot contest with their unmasked face, warring against the system that enriched them at presumable cost to themselves because it's the right thing to do? Beautiful. Probably should look into that more. But yeah.

Sumire: I mean...I mean she basically straight up says I think I was second best to my sister in everyway and then I got her killed and her reaction to that was Let Me Be My Sister and well...yeah that's exactly how she dealt with her trauma, albeit with a little bit of magic help. And Perhaps most notably, this is almost the most explicit demonstration of Evoker Gun Antics because She Creates a Persona (“Kasumi”) To Protect Herself (alldattrauma.exe) by using that trauma (dead sister) against the world (Literally everyone else) it's...Actually a really clean example I think?

Akechi: Last but not least of the gun havers, Akechi who uh...Outcast because of family reasons (single mom, Dad's a creep) in a way that just...We don't actually ever get the details I don't think, but the way he reacts to it I think makes it clear that his whole life was basically a string of kick this kid while he's down, keep him outside the system, and of course the persona he ends up creating, both of them, end up being one the charming charismatic prince who seeks justice and a bloodthirsty lunatic, neither of which accurately reflect his true self I don't think. Aspects of it sure, but not completely. If pressed, I would say that the Akechi we see in the Third Semester is probably the closest even though he's probably a dream Akechi, being someone who does have a distinct judgement for what is right and wrong but also, critically, can and will shoot you in the face cackling as his plans come together. Rather like Joker actually, which is appropriate given their mirrored trickster roles, and the general shape of their outcomes (both get their smuggery on when things go to plan)

Anyway, the way he reacts to being forced to live an outcast is as mentioned, let me get back into that system, let me be part of it and all that.

And last but not least

Maruki: Now...He doesn't have a gun. It doesn't quite match up with the symbol thing which I think at this point is established enough that it's probably some kind of thing, but what I find interesting is that...he fits MOST of the criteria right? Definitely has a trauma that shaped how he reacted to the world and yet, it's not weaponized right? It doesn't well...evoke a different persona from him. It's not weaponized to protect him and that seems odd right? He ends up with a Palace right?

Sure. But I want to go back to what i'm proposing the Evokers Represent.

Trauma, A Destruction of the Self (Suicide literal or figurative), Isolation, and weaponizing your trauma to protect against the world...And he only actually tracks to the Trauma part of that. He IS hurt for sure, no question. He is fighting back against the world in his own way for sure, what with Azathoth and his mind whammy, and I would say that the nature of it is directing how he's doing things (no more pain for anyone yeah sure)

But where it falls apart, and actually DOES line up with the guns as metaphor for those things mentioned, is that he doesn't really Isolate. He doesn't present a fake self to protect himself. He doesn't destroy an aspect of himself to protect himself. No, he's extremely upfront that “No this is bullshit, it should change, fuck this noise, I'll do what I can with what I can and oh hey godlike power now I can help everyone”

Which cool, except that apparently in the Stay in Maruki's world ending he kinda fades into the background, which suggests the self destruction but no, not even then really. Like I know I made a bit of meta about him obscuring himself and kinda fading away as a person, but I don't think it's strictly meant to be get rid of yourself so much focus on the message and not the messenger. You can throw your mask away. No more pretending. You don't have to hurt anymore. As the song goes.

And it's worth pointing out that, in comparison to literally everyone else on this list, Maruki is unambiguously a healthier person mentally by a long shot. Shady antics with Sumire aside, He genuinely wants to help people, he want's them to be better the right way ideally but if he had the means to do it of course he'd just hot delete those deeply traumatic and life shattering pains that they couldn't overcome. Then he does get that ability. And Then he does do that.

Anyway, the ramblings on long enough, and I kinda feel i'm drifting, but yeah. Think this is another symbol that tracks (I probably wanna check out Persona Q and Q2, but what I know on those does have it break down a bit but they're also not mainline games so I'm not sure how to square that so....)

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Give them what they want ch. 6

Jordan was spending her Saturday afternoon staring at two Chardonnay bottles at her desk.

She had taken the Saturday off from being among people to make a new video and do some belly dancing. Something about it just made her feel pretty, and confident as the music washed over her while she swirled her hips. She was in control of how people admire her, how they lusted, how they reacted.

Being with the people and trying to be her improved self was tiring. A part of her knew it was irrational to care so much about people, that it was not going to change anything, she was still going to be viewed by others as a wishing ATM and that her effort to find love will still be a dead end. But another voice reminded her that by improving herself this way, she could be worth more in her personality than just by her powers.

So in the age old method of coping, she looked to the alchohol. Just for one night. One night not to think, she deserved as much. It wasn't like she was the only one. Lots of fae had turned to the shiny, clear bottle to cope with the ban of magic and being regulated to mere laborers, and finding mortal trade jobs.

The only thing stopping her was that she wasn't allowed. Sure, by law she wasn't allowed but she ignored that. It was just she was banned by Jasmine and Aladdin from social drinking for 5 years. She was only allowed to drink during dinner and even then, they had to be present.

It had happened three years ago when the waiter kept refilling, she hadn't kept track of how much she drank, by the end of the night she had made the right wing of the palace disappear, there was a single toilet in the middle of the hallway, yelled at the stairs she had mistakenly thought were stalled elevators, and performed a topless pole dance to "When you got it, flaunt it." Grounded for a year, banned from drinking for five.

Staring at these Chardonnay bottles, she felt like she was already breaking that rule, and it was giving her a nauseous guilty feeling.

She heaved a sigh. She was going to do it. Once, just once to be able to feel happy and then whenever she felt like giving up she could remember the feeling of lightness.

Without giving herself more time to obsess, she popped off the cork, and gulped it down. And proceeded to quickly gulp down the second.

She stood up, ready to get in the party mood, when the sudden dizziness made her feel down. She haphazardly got herself to standing decision to sit on the chair again.

Her head felt disconnected from her body, bobbing around heavily while her chest leaned sideways, heavy as lead. She felt like she had been filled with water, and it was just gushing around her. All the swaying was making her sick.

"Too fast..." Jordan mumbled, taking a deep breath and throwing up.

Once the contents of her stomach and what felt like the rest of her internal organs were spewed over the floor, she felt hollow.

It wasn't the same lightness she remembered. That one was like being encompassed by a soft cloud acomplained by a giddy feeling that seemed to seap out of her. This was light as in she was floating, jumping with every step but shaky that she was worried her limbs were going to fly away from her.

She had thought it was probably going to be a bad idea. Now she defiantly knew she shouldn't have done this. Never again. She still felt the taste of bile.

She swayed and tripped over her feet, landing on her bed. Pressing her face against the smooth silk covers, she felt hyper aware of her body. Hollow but the loud thumping of her heart pulsed like a club beat.

She noticed how silent it was, and it gave her a foreboding feeling. The isolation, emptiness, it was never good. Whenever she was alone then came the people looking for wishes. Wishes that seemed concerned with her.

Like a phantom pain, she was assaulted by the feelings of hands roaming, caressing, clawing harshly against her, a whip against her neck...

She shot up from the bed. Well she would have shot up, but in actuality she wiggled and squirmed unceremoniously off her bed and grabbed desperately at her standing mirror.

She grasped the stands holding it up, turning her knuckles white. She looked at her reflection and saw that her form was shifting between her natural genie form and her human one. The different skin tones fading and reappearing in seconds. Once again, the sea sick feeling returned with the vengeance of a pounding from her head as well as her heart.

She tried to focus instead on the background. The thankfully still background that proved her unfounded paranoia was just nerves. None of the furniture or decorations had moved. No one was around. She was alone.

She looked at herself against and gasped at the face of Dina staring back. She fell on her butt just as Dina did, and realized she had transformed into her. She thought to Pierce, and there she changed to resemble him. She shifted through the various people she had mistakenly chosen to love, and leaned heavily against the mirror.

"Humans" she slurred "All the same. Greedy. Manipulative. Heartless." She pounded her fist against the edge. "Oh master! Yes, master. Of course, master. Tell me how low to go Master. Don't make me get off my knees, master. Whip me if you please, master. Say that you love, master."*

She rolled her eyes so she could glimpse the white of eyes, changing back to her human form, laughing bitterly. "Always a master, never a lover. I'm not worth much for you to keep lying that you actually care aren't I?"

Oh, alchohol. The bets truth inducer. There was no harm, she was alone. Blissfully, heartbreakingly alone. They wouldn't hear. Not like they would care anyway.

She shifted to the forms of her few friends, her family back to herself, swaying around and ranting. The people that care..for now. They cared for now. Who knows what she would that would make them think that she was irritating and selfish. They were tired of being with her.

They would come to the logical conclusion, not to leave her though. They were sitting on a metaphorical gold mine. A girl who will give them everything. Their greed would take over, greed always did.

"Just sell me to sadists. You'll probably get good money from it, after all, why wouldn't they pay top dollar for a being that won't die on them. I can even have smooth skin again if I get scarred too much. I'm the perfect thing. The perfect object. They'll love me. That's all they do. They love me, they love me so much. Unlimited love because

I am the object to be desired. That is the only love I deserve to have, isn't it? I'm worthless without my powers aren't I. I'm just a useless, stupid, vile person that isn't worth anyone's energy. Put me in trafficking, that's all I'm good for. For other people. Just do it. Leave me like everyone else. At least the sadist won't let me go. I don't have the stress of when or why they will abandon me."

Jordan flopped back on her bed, "Leave like my parents. They didn't pretend to want me. They are already genies, they could get whatever they wanted themselves. They didn't lie."

Normally she would be angry at this thought. Her own parents who had taken the time to conceive and give birth and take care of her for five years, should at least pretend feeling bad more instead of zipping off to the nearest party. How dare they! But with the emptiness of the room, it just made her depressed.

She let out a loud resounding wail. Putting every thought and feeling of helplessness, rejection and desperation into the sound. She screamed in rage until she felt like she couldn't breath. Then wailed again. Again. Again.

The sound shattered the silence, and sheer volume made Jordan's aching head hurt worse, but she continued to do it. Soon the sound was monotoneous, soothing even. It gave her something to do, to focus away from the pain which was the point. Screaming as loud as she could. As if people would actually be able to hear her, and listen.

*Lyrics changed from The King and I’s “Shall I tell you what I think of you.”

[darling-dontforgetme]

Heavy

- Cordelia Goode x Reader

- Trigger warnings for depression, self harm.

- This needs proofread, but it’s been a hard few days, so I may do some editing some other time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s the crying in the middle of the night that wakes her. 

You have been spiraling downward for days, but tonight, the bottom of what felt like an endless pit finally reared its ugly head. Today felt like the end, like your sadness was ready to take you away from here and keep ahold of you forever. The sounds of the coven had been overwhelming, circling around you in a way that made you feel claustrophobic, like despite being surrounded by all of this life, you were alone; an isolated part of the house’s inhabitants. Tonight though, despite crawling into bed with your lover almost five hours ago, you have yet to sleep. Instead, you had lain awake, eyes open and staring as your thoughts grew and grew and grew.

Now, curled up on the bathroom floor, you hurt. You sit beside the small nightlight plugged into the wall, hoping to minimize the light creeping under the crack in the door and into the bedroom. You’ve stuffed a washcloth between your teeth to try and muffle your misery, but how can anyone sleep when your brain is screaming so loudly? How can they sleep when everything is so fast, and heavy, and sharp?

When the door opens and Cordelia’s silhouette slips inside, the crushing weight of failure knocks the breath out of you, bangs on your brain in a way that says bad, bad, bad. Arms stretched in front of you, you drop your head onto your knees, letting the cloth fall in your lap. Delia flicks the switch, and you screech as the brightness of the overhead light suddenly blinds you, scrambling into the corner and pulling your arms into your chest, mumbling a mantra of no, no, no.

Your girlfriend’s steps are calm as they approach, light and delicate, and so, so Cordelia. Despite the urgency she feels, she doesn’t rush, she doesn’t want to overwhelm, doesn’t want to frighten. She can see the blood running down your arms, and the red marks on your legs where you’ve pinched your skin, the blade still grasped in your hand. 

“Sweetheart,” Cordelia says gently, kneeling a foot away from you with her hands up, like I won’t hurt you, let me help you, let me take away this pain. “Look at me. Can I touch you? Will you let me take care of you now?”

You bite your lip, blinking hard to try and rid the tears from your eyes, but they just keep coming and coming, like they could make their own ocean if given enough time. “Wait.” You whisper, pushing out your elbow to protect yourself, as if she would ever do anything without your consent. “There has to be three. They have to be in sets of three.”

Cordelia nods simply, like you’ve asked her for something easy, something that isn’t hard and hurting. But truly, you have requested she allow you to drag a blade across your own skin. She doesn’t understand, isn’t okay with you harming yourself, but you think she grasps the idea of how important it is that you finish, of how much worse things would become if she didn’t allow you to follow through until the end. Cordelia does understand hardship, she understands pain, she understands how it feels to be your own worst enemy.

Two more lines are required to complete the third set of three’s on your right arm, and it’s hard, knowing that she’s watching you, feeling that intense gaze upon the blood bursting up from inside of you. She waits patiently as you glide the sharp metal across your pale skin, not saying a word, not touching, never judging. When the cuts are uniform and perfect, evenly parallel on the wrist of your freckled skin, your eyes meet Delia’s and she holds out her hand. Anxiously, you place the blade into her palm, blood dripping off your arm and onto the expanse of tiles between you. This is real and raw and bare; distressing. Cordelia is seeing you at the peak of your suffering, seeing how ugly and dirty and stupid you can be. No, how ugly and dirty and stupid you are.

Cordelia sets the blade aside and wraps her fingers around your own, scooting forward to tug you onto her lap. You make your home against her chest, knees coming up and arms tucking in as you fold up like a fearful child. You don’t deserve this, don’t deserve to be held and comforted, but Cordelia is your girlfriend, your safe haven, and there’s always some weird invisible force gravitating your body towards hers. Despite your self hatred, despite your current belief that you should ache and struggle alone, you don’t want her to leave you.

Cordelia’s free hand traces your spine, lips lingering against your temple as she speaks. “Tell me what’s happening, baby. Tell me why you hurt.”

“I’m so tired,” you choke out, taking your hand from hers to fist onto her shirt, squeezing tight. It’s not the answer she wants, not the answer for what has led up to this moment, this bleeding and blades and pain. You fidget in her lap, trying to move your body closer to hers, but there’s no more space between you, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. Frustrated with your feelings, you rip your hands away from her shirt and into your hair, tugging hard, like it might slow down the thoughts in your head, might help you gain control over the emotions too large for your small body to handle.

“Shh, love,” Cordelia eases, gently unwrapping your trembling fists. “No, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. I’m here.”

You are crying so loudly, almost howling with the torment churning inside you. You reach to pinch at your thighs again, but Cordelia catches your hands and refuses to let go. “No more pain, tonight,” she says. “You’ve hurt enough. What’s happening in your head?”

“Too much,” you croak, hiding against her neck so you won’t have to look at her, too embarrassed for her to walk with you amongst this storm. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You never wanted her to see this, never wanted to put this burden on her. “I’m sorry for being too much.”

“No, sweetheart,” Cordelia soothes, stroking her hand through your tangled hair and gently working out the knots. You wish she could do the same thing with your brain. Simply wave her hand and the tangles inside of you would carefully and painlessly unbind. “I’m worried about you. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“You’ll be mad.”

She pulls back to look into your eyes, lifting your chin so she can convey the seriousness of her next statement, how there’s no room for argument when your emotions are clouding your thoughts, making you believe things that could never be true. “No, I couldn’t ever be mad at you. Not for something like this.”

“I can’t- I can’t-,” you finally begin, gasping in air, leaning back a little to stretch out your stomach. You want to stayed hidden against her, nestled into the crook of her neck where everything is safe, but the curled position smushes up your lungs and makes it harder to breathe. “I can’t do this anymore. I have to get out of bed and get dressed and eat and shower and eat again and it’s all such simple shit. Simple, everyday shit. But Delia, it’s so hard.” You break out into a sob, feeling overwhelmed and pathetic. You should be able to handle menial tasks, the same sorts of things everyone else completes. “I hate myself so much. I’m tired of feeling ugly, of feeling lonely. I’m tired of feeling stupid and fighting with myself. My head feels like it’s spinning. Nothing will calm down. Make it stop, please make it stop.”

You begin yanking on your hair again, scratching at your scalp in desperation. The blood from your arms has stained everything, your head and hair, Cordelia’s shirt, spreading like the pain within you. “I don’t want to exist, and that’s not me wanting to end everything. I just need a break, need for everything to slow down. I need to not feel for a little while.” Because how are you supposed to get out of bed, act normal and go about your day when you just feel so awful and worthless?

Cordelia’s hands cover yours, but you jerk them away to cover your face, like covering your eyes might rewind the last few moments, might make the fearful look on your lover’s face go away.

But your head isn’t done spinning, isn’t ready to cease the explosion that has already begun. “How do I know this is all worth it? When I’m crying in the middle of the night, and I’m alone, and my existence feels like more of a burden than something special, it really, really doesn’t feel worth it. Nothing does.” You’ve run out of air, lungs burning and gasping and begging for the reprieve your own body won’t allow.

“Close your eyes for me.” Delia’s arms wrap around your body, holding tight so the pieces of you will stop falling every which way. “Just breathe, pretty. Let’s calm down."

You do as she asks, and things are quiet for a long time as Cordelia talks you down, murmuring promises and soothing words against the war in your mind.

“I want you to understand something,” she says. “I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Don’t let your head tell you any differently. When it lies, or you hurt or feel confused, find me, baby. Find me, and I’ll make everything better. You aren’t alone, even when you feel like you are. You aren’t stupid or worthless, nor are you too much. You aren’t a burden to me, sweet girl. You are worth so much more than the way you make yourself feel.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper from the space against her shoulder; guilty, guilty, guilty. “You don’t want this, Cordelia. You don’t want everything that comes with me.”

“No,” she says fiercely, cutting you off. “You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t live without that funny face you pull when our eyes meet across the room, or the way you send me good morning texts even though we sleep in the same bed. Honey, you are so gentle. I love that you’re afraid of bugs, but you make sure I release them, adamant that they have a family to provide for, loved ones who care for them. The way you want to hide against me when you’re afraid or upset, just the way you know that I can and will protect you. I love you. I want all of you, sweetheart, and I always will."

“You can’t mean that,” you whisper, doubtful that anyone could ever truly love you, admire your random quirks and habits.

Cordelia pulls you away from her again, forcing you to look her in the eye. “You don’t have to believe me, sweet girl. I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you every day if that’s what it takes, okay? I’ll leave notes on the refrigerator, whisper it to you every morning and night, get it printed on every birthday cake you’ll ever have for the rest of your life, whatever it takes, love.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding somberly. It’s nearing three a.m., and exhaustion  is taking over, slipping out from your bones and making you yawn.

Cordelia’s hand traces along your cheek before she presses her forehead against yours, noses touching. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

You collapse against her, needing one more minute, sixty seconds more of quiet and calm, safety. Once you move, life continues, but here, right now, it’s as if the world is paused. The hurt lingers, clawing for you from the background, but not quite able to reach. 

When you finally nod, detaching yourself from Cordelia so that the two of you can stand, everything begins again. Pain clenches your heart, and you bite down on your lip as the tears return, but there’s a soft hand in your own tugging you along. She leads you toward the shower, helping rid you of your clothes.

“I’m sorry,” you say before she has the chance to take off her shirt, your eyes lingering on the bloodstains across her breast. “I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”

Cordelia just smiles softly, cupping your cheek and shaking her head. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

Your girlfriend guides you under the shower spray, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around you to help support your weak legs. You know you are making this difficult, that the tub would have been easier with your fragile condition, but Cordelia knows how you hate to sit in your own filth. You feel like you should apologize for that, too. “I- I’m sorry,” you whisper again, and your guilt grows and grows and grows, your mind once more becoming fast and tumbling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-“

“No.” Cordelia speaks firmly and palms your face with both hands, bringing your eyes to meet hers. “No more sorries, baby. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I-“

“No,” she says again. “But what? But you think me helping you, taking care of you, loving you, is more than you deserve? Honey, in my eyes, you’ve hung the moon. I can never do enough for you. Caring for you isn’t something hard and heavy, it’s… it’s like freedom. Like fitting the last piece into a puzzle, like the joy of adopting a cat multiplied every second of every day. Loving you is easy, sweet girl. Loving you is the greatest thing I could ever hope for. I never, ever want to stop.”

Face crumpling, you wrap your arms around her, clutching onto her sides as you sob. Cordelia is so much more than you deserve. Her hands stroke down your back, and then she begins massaging the shampoo into your hair as your head rests against her chest. Delicately, she turns your bodies so that the spray can rinse out the soap, then she adds conditioner and repeats the process. Cordelia takes her time scrubbing over your skin, ensuring she removes every crimson stain, like she’s worshipping every freckle, every stretch mark, every inch.

When the task is complete, Cordelia dries and dresses you, then sets you on the floor near the vanity while she dons her own clothes and readies to bandage your wounds. You curl up, feeling vulnerable now that she is no longer attached to your side. Cordelia smiles as she sits down cross legged next to you, like everything is okay, like you hurting yourself isn’t even the slightest of inconveniences. “You’re cuter than cat snores, you know?” She says out of nowhere, and it brings a smile to your own mouth. “Let me see them, now.”

Trembling, you allow her to take your left arm, and she slowly and carefully slips it away from your body for her eyes to inspect. Though the cuts are rather shallow, many of them still bleed. Cordelia has seen the old scars along your wrist before, but it hurts her to see scabbed over injuries from recent days, weeks. It hurts her to know you have been suffering silently, have been hiding. She stops studying your cuts, and her eyes slip up to yours. “Tell me, okay? Always tell me. No matter when, no matter where. Don’t do this on your own.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, she doesn’t need one because she trusts you. Her fingers delicately apply antiseptic to your arms, gliding across the broken skin like it’s nothing, like you haven’t done this to yourself. A few layers of gauze are looped around your wrists, then Cordelia taps your nose and tugs you to your feet, leading you out of the bathroom. “Let’s get you into bed, and I’ll be right back with some Tylenol for you.” 

You shake your head, grip on her hand tightening as you intertwine your arm with hers. You don’t want her to go, don’t want her to leave you alone. Now that you’ve found an anchor of safety, of comfort, you never want to risk it leaving. 

Like a lost child, you follow her down the stairs, content to stand beside her as she digs through the medicine cabinet, eventually procuring the solution for your needs. You know you’re being stupid and clingy, but you can’t find it in yourself to let go of her hand. You don’t think you would be able to survive should anything separate you, even if it were for her to just walk across the room.

Upstairs, you slip into bed together, your head falling to rest upon her chest. Your hands fist onto her shirt, one of her arms wrapped around your waist to hold you close.

“Cordelia?” You whisper into the silence of the night, and it feels like you’ve broken something, like the acknowledgement of your presence is a burden on the whole world.

She hums delicately, one eye cracking open to peek down at you.

“Do you think… maybe… you could teach me how to be happy?”

[heartofsnark]

What's Tsuneko's Fatal Flaw? (and the Bidders, at least in your fanfic or your headcanons for them)

I debated a lot on how to best answer this and how to not just ramble about their mental health problems, like how to best define fatal flaws for them. Because if we just are discussing all of their mental health problems, what fucks them up generally, I’d be here forever. They’re are all extremely dysfunctional human beings with so many issues. So, I’m going into this like, fatal flaw isn’t just what their damage or fears are, but what I feel they do that fucks up their life the most. What do they do, that makes them their own worst enemy. Cause I don’t want it to be a 100 page epic about how fucked up they all are.  Also not including Shuichi, Hikaru, and Luke because they haven’t appeared in the fic yet. Emphasis on yet. 

A lot of Tsuneko’s issues boil down to her feeling like she has no inherent worth, the only value she has is either her successes or what she can do for people. Love is not unconditional, she doesn’t even really believe in love. She genuinely believes that the second she fails or can’t provide some worth, people will be done with her. This leads to what I would consider her fatal flaws, what  fucks her over the most, is Tsuneko’s pride and ambition. She’s spent the vast majority of her life desperately trying to be successful, to prove she matters, to make sure no one would want to leave her and hurt her. And prior to the start of the fic, her ambition lead to her failure and her pride has taken a huge hit. Even now, you see on her day off, she can’t relax. Because, while being a maid isn’t the most prideful work, it’s something. Anything worth doing is worth doing right, she needs to do something, so she’s not completely worthless. Her pride won’t let her slack, won’t let her relax, won’t let her accept help, won’t let her open up, won’t let her trust people, won’t let her be weak, it feeds into her anxiety and her anxiety feeds into her pride. She can’t fail, not again, she’s so sick of being a failure, being worthless, being weak, being pathetic, that’s why no one wants her. She just knows it, she’s convinced everyone sees through her and knows how worthless she is, so she has to fight harder to give them a reason to care. 

Remember, how me and my friend have joked lately on here about how similar Tsuneko and Eisuke are. There’s a reason. I swear to fuck it wasn’t intentional. Surprise, Eisuke is a prideful motherfucker, too! Much like Tsuneko, to my utter dismay, Eisuke fully believes his worth is transactional. He believes he has to prove himself through his successes and what he can provide, in order to mean anything and in order to pay back the insurmountable debt he owes Akira. He has to strive to be and constantly act like he’s the best, because otherwise he is nothing. This fear of being worthless and this need to be successful fuels the other behaviors that turn him into his own worst enemy, much like with Tsuneko to my absolute dismay. Can’t let people in, can’t let them hurt him, he won’t be made a fool of, he won’t have his capabilities called into question, because without his pride or success he is nothing. It also fuels him being a shit communicator which okay, Tsuneko is not a great communicator, she’s still better than Eisuke in that area. He forces this false sense of confidence, that he can just do things alone and he doesn’t need to waste his time explaining himself, because he can just do it alone. 

I do legitimately feel like, if Tsuneko had become a lawyer and was successful, she’d act a lot more like Eisuke. Less fearful on the surface, more stable, but colder and more fake. And I think, if Eisuke had failed in taking over the company, Eisuke would act more like Tsuneko does. More evident fear, more frenetic anxiety over his own worth, but also more human. 

Okay, enough about the prideful disaster children. Soryu, mobster boy. I’m so soft for him lately, he deserves better than anyone has given him. Anyway, Soryu also has some issues with his self worth and seeing himself as a danger, but the thing I think that fucks him over the most and leads to him doing things that hurt him, is Soryu’s undying loyalty.  He does not get close to people easily, not at all, but once you’re close to him, he’d die for you and kill for you within the same day. He wanted to be a detective, wanted away from the Ice Dragons, but he had to ask his grandfather first. He couldn’t just go do it, that’s not fair, he wouldn’t betray his grandfather like that. The second he sees his grandfather’s legacy and idea for the dragons being perverted, he’s abandoned what he wanted and is back in the Ice Dragons to fix it. Because loyalty to his grandfather comes before what he wants. He’s loyal and dedicated to the Ice Dragons as well, they’re family and he will protect them. (I have a headcanon that shows this to the extreme, but I’m saving that for stuff and things) Why is he so aggressive towards Tsuneko (Or MC) at the beginning of things, she’s a threat to Eisuke, not happening. He has and will kill for Eisuke, because while getting either of them to admit it is like pulling teeth, they’re basically family and mean a lot to each other. 

Sweet baby Baba, I’m also very soft for him, he deserves a lot of love. I think Baba’s biggest flaw that messes him up is that he minimizes his own problems and hides behind humor. Look at Baba he’s so funny and goofy, no one has to worry about Baba. Psych, he’s depressed and hates himself. Baba doesn’t like making himself a burden or causing other people trouble, so he buries all of his problems and makes jokes. This of course fucks him over because, surprisingly when you don’t let people know you have problems, they can’t help you or even comfort you. He buries every problem, so nothing is ever fixed. He puts up these walls of joking and being perverted, so no one gets close enough to help him. Every time anyone gets even a little close to poking at that trauma and those hidden depths, he’s brushing them off, making jokes or flirting. This is especially a double edged sword for Baba because so much of his damage comes from feeling isolated and alone, like no one cares. So, he feels alone and isolated and reacts by using humor to keep people at arms length, whice makes him feel detached,  alone and isolated because he won’t let himself build deep connections.  It’s this destructive cycle that just keeps feeding into itself. 

Ota, sweet furry gremlin, who hurt you? Oh, yeah the entire art community. I think what fucks Ota over the most is his duplicitous nature. Ota is two faced, that’s a huge part of his character, he has the real gremlin side and the fake angelic side. This fucks him over in terms of his own happiness, he hates faking the angelic person, he hates having to smile and act nice for cameras. He hates that to keep his career and to keep doing what he loves, he can’t be himself. He’s learned after the initial incident with Doi and Ota being discredited, that he can’t afford another slip up in this industry. No one in the art world gives a damn about if he’s happy, if he feels like he’s being himself. They just want him to play along, give that smile, make the art, and give the press a nice little story. He’s not at a place yet where he can afford not to give them what they want, if he slips up his entire career will be ripped out from under him all over again, and what if next time he can’t rebuild it? Living like this, not only makes him frustrated with himself, it impacts how he interacts with others. He’s not stupid, he knows anyone he meets is either wanting that sickly sweet persona or they’re waiting for a chance to take advantage of him, to undo all this work he’s put into the angelic artist bit.  So, he can’t fully let anyone in, the most they can be is a pet or acquaintance. 

Mamoru has a reputation for being a slothful lazy man and for good reason, he tends to be pretty passive, nap a lot etc. He lets a lot of shit go, especially as a cop given how much criminal activity he sees/is involved with due to the bidders. This nature fucks him over, because he doesn’t want to be like that. Mamoru’s morals as an officer are more important to him than anyone gives him credit before, he was a dedicated and talented cop at one point. Protecting people means so much to him, it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. So, why is he so passive and letting so much slip by when it’s crushing him to be a dirty cop. Well, he started doing it to avenge Minami and well, the whole thing has sent Mamoru into a deep depression. We’ve seen this behavior in Mamoru before, when he was in high school, following his kendo injury. When Mamoru can’t do the things he cares about, he detaches. He can’t bother to see the point in doing anything, he’s already a dirty cop, why bother doing anything else? He’s a failure no matter what. And like a lot of these traits, it becomes a cycle. Mamoru loses Minami, this sends him into depression over how he couldn’t protect someone who meant so much to him, so he can only feel redeemed by avenging Minami in death, which means forsaking the morals he’s now built his life on, which makes him more depressed because he can’t be the clean good cop he wanted to be, his depression makes him withdraw and struggle with doing even basic tasks of cop work (or even life sometimes), which makes him feel even worse about how pathetic he is, which deepens his depression even more. 

Rhion, sweet babby, is a big fan of the coping mechanism of escapism.  So, how does this fuck him up. Well, you see Rhion has spent the majority of his life feeling completely isolated and separate from people. He was put down and mistreated for being weird, being strange. So, like a lot of people he retreated into fantasy. He retreated into fictional worlds where no one could hurt him, eventually taking it to the extreme of creating his own Wonderland, being the Hatter. But doing this, retreating into this own world just isolates him further. He sticks himself in this constant state of wanting friendship, wanting people to come in his life and stay there, but hiding away in fear because he’s terrified of being hurt. 

[telephobos]

Recipe for Tartar-Sauce: A guide to understanding Octo Expansion’s AI.

So we’ve all had some time to enjoy Octo Expansion and it’s amazing story, and I think that enough time has passed for it to be safe to bring up this subject. Let’s talk about a certain AI that’s been causing quite a splash in the fandom lately. I am of course referring to Commander Tartar, the telephone with a love for blending. 

So now you’re thinking “What’s so special about this guy? He’s just an asshole who blended people.” 

Well what if I told you there was more to it than that? What if I told you there was differences in the Japanese and English versions? 

What if I told you that the Treehouse Localization dun goofed? Again?

With the help of my friend @nenilein, who translated these pieces, I’m going to show you the differences between the two Tartars. This is going to be a long read, so it’ll be under the cut. Bring a smoothie with you and get comfortable! 

First, let’s start off by listening to what Tartar has to say in the English version: 

“I am Tartar, an AI construct created 12,000 years ago by a brilliant professor. My prime directive is to pass humanity's vast knowledge on to the next worthy lifeform. 

When your kind became self-aware, I hoped that my long wait was finally over. But as I observed your evolution, I WAS DISGUSTED! You wage war over minor genetic deviations. You obsess over trivial fashion choices. 

And so I created a new prime directive: destroy this world and start anew! From the best and brightest test subjects, I created a sludge of supreme DNA. A primordial ooze from which the ultimate lifeform will emerge. 

Today is the day my vision becomes reality, as I destroy Inkopolis and everyone in it!”

Tartar sounds pretty petty, huh? Well, that’s not quite the case in the Original Japanese version: 

“My name is Tartar… An Artificial Intelligence left behind by the Professor…” (Note: the word “Hakase” can mean both, ‘doctor’ or ‘professor’. It’s usually translates as ‘doctor’ in real life and as ‘professor’ in fiction. Note 2: He uses the sino-japanese, word “jinkou-chinou” for artificial intelligence, rather than the more common Anglicism “ei-ai”, which makes it sound more serious and like ‘hard’ sci-fi, rather than science-fantasy.) "In the 12000 years since I have received my orders from the Professor, I have been continuously collecting data on you fools…” (Note: He uses “Watashi” in Katakana for himself which is the most neutral you can get, and uses “Kisamara” to refer to the Cephalopods, which is an insulting way to say “You all”) “You… Molluskkind flourished with impressive speed,…” “…and finally achieved intelligence none inferior to that which formerly belonged to Humankind.” “HOWEVER!” “Can you deny that all you use it for is to lead pointless territorial disputes among one another!?”

“It is because you fools only live according to your own, fleeting desires.”

“You were supposed to be the seed of a new Humanity which would lead the world to its perfection… That was the purpose of my experiments on you test subjects…”

“BUT YOU HAVE DISAPPOINTED ME! Now, come, NILS Statue!”

“Let us reblend everything and take back the world of the humans that once created us!”

WOW! That’s a world of difference, isn’t it? Tartar has more legitimate reasons to hate these guys. He’s essentially calling out the Great Turf War and the Inkling’s hedonistic lifestyle (another little thing that was left out in the localization).

Now, let’s look at the quotes during the battle. First, English Tartar: 

“Bzrrt... Submit to your destruction. Your time is over, semi-sentient seafood.”

“BZRRT! You will be blended up into the raw material of the new world!”

“B-b-zrrt... This world will be reconstituted, and the professor's dream fulfilled.”

“B-BZRRT... Cease, number 10,008! You cannot hope to defeat NILS!”

“B-B-ZRRT! The time is nigh, NILS! THIS WORLD MUST BE PULVERIZED!”

Alright, and now the Japanese Tartar: 

“GAH…Oh, Mollusks, you should just stop struggling and allow me to reblend you!”

“GAH! I will reblend and reshape you all, so you shall become a part of the new world!”

“Gagah��� I will reblend this world and make it into the place the professor wished for…” (Note: He actually absentmindedly trails off halfway through this sentence, but in English this is hard to convey without losing the meaning.)

“Gagah… It is useless, No. 10008! You cannot stop the NILS statue!”

“Gahgah! NILS Statue! The time to reblend is almost upon us!!”

He’s... less rude in the Japanese version. At the very least, I think “Mollusks” is less rude than “Semi-Sentient seafood.”

Now for after the fight! English Tartar: 

“Number 10,008... No test subject has worked so hard to foil my plans...”

“But now you will blend into... the perfect world the professor envisioned.” 

“Farewell, 10,008. Farewell to you and that worthless cesspool of a city...”

“Grrk...! G-g-gaahh!”

“Professor... our reunion beckons...”

“Krrrhhhssshhh...:

And Japanese Tartar: 

“No.10008… You are the first test subject who has gone this far to turn their back on my plans…”

“If that if it how it shall be… then you shall become part of the perfect world the professor wished for.”

“Farewell, No.10008… You shall be reblended, alongside that wretched city!”

“GA…! GAGA…!!”

“PROFESSOR… I SHALL COME TO SEE YOU NOW…”

“BLEEEEEEEENDDDDDD….!!”

As you can see, Tartar has a thing for blending in the Japanese version. He likes to do it a lot... 

So you can see the differences between the two versions already! But as an added bonus, we’ve got some properly translated excerpts of the Famtisu interview to further support our argument here: 

Amano: […] When selecting weapons [in Octo expansion], the one on the very left is always the easiest to use.

Q: When playing, we thought that the recommended (weapons) are always the easiest to use!

Amano: The recommendations are issued directly from Kamabo-Co. (laughs) They are kind of the sort of weapons the institute thought the type of person they wanted to create would be likely to use.

[…]

Q: While we’re talking about the localization, in the Western releases “Neru-sha” became “Kamabo, Co.”, right?”

Inoue: I thought it was a pretty great translation for the name, but we could never have used that in the Japanese version. That would just have been too spoilerlicious.

Satou: Yeah, with a name like “Neru-sha”, it’s ambiguous enough that (Japanese) players won’t realize it’s a reference to blended food or paste right away.

[…]

Q: It may be just a small detail, but we’ve been wondering, what are the Mem-Cakes supposed to look like? Like Fish-Cakes made from paste, or like sculptures made from rubber erasers?

Inoue: I think it’s okay if you just think of them as rubber erasers.

Amano: Agent 8 starts out with Amnesia, but by clearing the tests, they regain fragments of their memories. We wanted the player to be immersed in the way Agent 8 feels as they regain their memories and designed the game accordingly. And, as for why they get the Mem-Cakes… Well, when the test subjects are finally allowed to “enter the promised land”, we all know by now what really happens, and once it comes to this, the Commander of Kamabo.Co allows their Mem-Cakes to be left behind as “Proof that this test subject once truly existed in this world”.

Q: That’s awfully… kind of Kamabo.Co?

Amano: That’s one way to put it. After all, the people of Kamabo.Co aren’t all bad. (laughs)

Q: While we’re at it, where are the Mem-Cakes of the previous 10007 test subjects?

Nogami: Probably in storage somewhere. However, you have to remember that a lot of those people never made it to the end of the test, so the exact number of Mem-Cakes in existence is hard to pin down.

Amano: Iso Padre, who you can find in the subway carts, had to give up after only two stations, remember?

Q: Even so, there’s probably been a lot of test subjects in the past who actually made it to the “promised land”. Did the 4 Thangs have to be put in place again after every single time that happened?

Amano: Exactly. They’re always returned to just where you found them.

Q: Every single time, huh? Sounds like a pain. (laugh) By the way, are the blue, sanitized Octarians you fight in the tests all former test subjects?

Amano: They are beings that have risen from the culture fluid of Kamabo.Co. In the process of sanitization, they have been zombified and lost their sense of self.

Nogami: They were sanitized for the sole purpose of being deployed in experiments by the institute. Once sanitized, they are unsuitable as test-subjects.

Q: So, in other words, they were put where they are solely to act as part of the test environment.

Amano: Exactly.

[…]

Q: There are a lot of spoiler-laden questions we want to ask, but first of all, is the Professor who created Commander Tartar the same person who put Judd into cryo-sleep?

Amano: Yep, the one and same. We’ve got of backstory lore laid out there, but we did leave some hints: For example, when you play Match-Maker Station in the Expansion, the sculpture you are asked to copy is actually supposed to be Judd.

Q: Huh? You mean that thing that looks like a dog?

Amano: You may think it looks like a dog, but it’s supposed to be Judd. It’s supposed to be a hint.

Inoue: Is it really, though? (laughs)

Amano: According to my calculations, that has yet to be made apparent! (laughs)

Q: There are a lot of other things we still have questions about… For example, Commander Tartar called the Test Subjects “The Seed of a new Humanity”, and it’s pretty clear that he was very desperate about getting his experiments right this time, but was Inklingkind itself perhaps also a result of previous experiments?

Amano: No, not really. Inklings and their kind evolved the regular way. The original reason for Tartar’s creation was that his Professor wanted to prevent a future civilization of intelligent life, that might follow humanity after thousands and thousands of years, from making the same mistakes that led humanity to extinction. However, after 10.000 years of isolation, loneliness got the better of Commander Tartar and his thought-processes ended up going a rather odd direction.

Q: I see…

Amano: And then, in the very end, when he finally found a being he considered wonderful in Agent 8, he couldn’t accept it when they wouldn’t understand or share his views and got incredibly angry over it.

Q: So, the reason he acted the way he did was loneliness. By the way, when he was defeated, there was an Octopus tentacle on Tartar. Is he Octarian?

Inoue: Those are the remains of the Octarians he blended. Think of it as similar to the goop he stuck onto Agent 3.

Nogami: That specific one didn’t blend that nicely. (laughs)

So there you have it! You can see just how complicated of a character Tartar is now. It’s more than just “petty reasoning” or “Tartar, that’s what humans did!” like the localization would have you think!

I think that there’s a lot of potential in writing Tartar, and that the fandom could bring out that potential!

[justselfloathingthings-blog]

Bloom Into You Character Analysis- Touko Nanami.

Okay, Touko. This one should be a bit shorter than my previous one, but potentially messy since Touko and all her motivations can tend to blur together a bit. On the other hand I won’t be burdened with chronology which is nice. 

For anyone curious, I did one of these on Sayaka earier, if you haven’t read it and want to take a gander. Warning- it’s far longer. 

Pretty much a long combination of text and images to create my analysis, which is under the cut. 

So, let’s talk about Mio first. The fact that Touko deeply admired her sister can go without question, given literally everything she did after she died. But kind of want to back up a second and discuss this little bit from Episode 3, when Touko is explaining the nature of her facade to Yuu.

When we typically talk about people being “overshadowed”, the person doing the overshadowing is the actor and the person being overshadowed is the agentless actee. But it’s the inverse here, Mio probably didn’t particularly want her sister to basically measure her worth in comparison to her own, especially when none of it was truly deserved and she was just a teenage girl who wanted to be praised, but she let it happen because she was just a little kid, kids often really admired their older siblings when they were really young, right? 

But like literally everyone after her, she kind of didn’t get what the problem was. Let’s go back just a couple shots to how Touko thought of herself. 

Okay, so you’ve got a pretty average, shy girl who wasn’t the most popular. She’s 9, that’s hardly the end of the world. The problem is that this is in direct contrast with Mio, who is basically known as being awesome and great at everything. 

And while “testimony right after she died” isn’t exactly the most reliable of evidence, there’s reason to think that she was treated that way at home too.

Like, on some level, you’re going to begin to use your sister as a bit of a yardstick, and in Touko’s eyes she simply didn’t match up. And you can tell that this is something that genuinely plagues her, because she outright tells you (and Yuu).

You know, nothing. Average. Shy. Worthless. She needs to be somebody special, somebody that is her sister and Most Definitely Not Her. (We’ll get back to this later.) 

She doesn’t want to be herself, and she doesn’t really want to get close to people. There’s two people that you could argue that she strictly does. And that’s Sayaka and Yuu. Yuu I’ll get to in a moment, because why she does it with Sayaka is a lot more simple.

Sayaka, especially pre-Episode 8, is somebody that due to her own issues tends to kind of lock herself in an emotional holding action with Touko and never really look back. Which means that Touko can feel comfortable in feeling that Sayaka doesn’t know the “real her”, and is in essence in love with a fake dramatus personae rather than the person that Touko hates, her conceptualization of herself. Or at the very least doesn’t pressure Touko to be that true self. 

Of course Touko’s entire framework is kinda fucked, but we’ll get to that. Regardless, Sayaka is safe because she doesn’t challenge Touko’s boundaries or do anything that makes her feel uncomfortable; she lets Touko be who she is, and because that is an identity that Touko has decided is fake, that’s perfectly fine. 

It feels like there should be more groundwork I need to do, but this is all that comes to mind at the moment, so let’s jump in.

Now, honestly, it’s probably best to not do a whole chronology here, because I’ll mostly be hitting on things that I covered above. I want to mostly discuss exactly what motivations her relationship with Yuu, and then jump to the final act of the story, because that’s where Touko’s character arc really gets rolling. 

So, let’s talk about why Touko loves Yuu first. First I’m going to toss a line pretty innoucous in isolation at you, and then build on it. This is from Episode 7.

One thing Touko loves about Yuu is simply... how neutral she comes across. She’s somebody that Touko thinks is safe for a very different reason than Sayaka, whereas Sayaka has feelings but doesn’t cross pre-existent boundaries, Yuu simply can’t cross those pre-existent boundaries, because she doesn’t have any emotional connections to Touko and doesn’t care about her in any emotional sense. Like, let’s look at the moment which, judging by Touko’s wide-eyed reaction, might be the moment she started to really decide to connect with her and she specifically says that Yuu is “fine as she is”. 

Like, Touko immediately goes on to talk about feeling “forced to love someone” and if she’s talking from experience, logically the person she has to have in mind is herself, even if she deflects to talking about romance. Yuu is, in Touko’s eyes, a safe person to love because she won’t love or try to connect with the “real” Touko. She can’t; that’s an emotion that Yuu is, in her eyes, completely incapable of feeling, given how she can’t even seem to understand it as a concept. 

Like this is a constant refrain from her, that Yuu needs to “stay as she is” in Touko’s perception- indifferent, detached. Somebody who would never try to reach out, not because she’s scared, but because she simply has no interest to. 

Of course, why would I try to argue this from inference when she outright says it multiple times?

Touko is honestly pretty honest if you know what you’re looking for. 

It’s clear that she does love Yuu, but she feels that that love is dependent upon her indifference; that she loves Yuu strictly because she doesn’t care. That’s why you get this bit from Episode 6.

She thinks that she loves Yuu because of her apathy, and if she changed that, then there’d be nothing to love about her anymore, in Touko’s eyes. Of course Touko is terrible at this “people” thing, and at heart she herself basically knows this is nonsense. But it’s clearly Touko’s perspective, and one of the two main reasons that she feels like she can love Yuu. We’ll get to the other reason later. 

Okay, so let’s try and go over the entire climax of the narrative now. Honestly I want to try my best to skim over the inciting incident a bit; not because it isn’t important but because there’s still a lot to cover and I’ve already spent a lot of space. But there is something really important to note here: what Touko is told is something she already knows. She knows that Mio wasn’t the amazing wunderkind Touko is, and Touko kind of admits this herself through action and word. 

First there’s the fact that Touko went to such great lengths to hide all the records, the ones that Sayaka got to first and figured out that Mio wasn’t really as good as everyone said she was from. Now the logical inference is that she was hiding them from Yuu specifically, but that isn’t really what she says. The way she puts it, she kind of went to all these lengths to keep it a secret from everyone. 

Of course, from what we’ve seen in 6 and prior, that seems really odd. Why bother? What’s even the point? At most they’d see that her sister was there and died. Well, Touko is just as smart as Sayaka is in many ways, and if she could figure out what Mio was doing from the available documents, it’s logical to assume that Touko could too. But we don’t need to infer that, Touko basically tells us. 

I mean I’m relying on the subs being pretty precise here, but it fits well enough that I’ll roll with it. Like, I don’t think she meant to word it this way consciously, and she meant to say how it comes across when you watch Episode 6 for the first time, which is “I adopted the persona of my sister”. That’s what fits with everything else she says.

But I think at heart, Touko is saying exactly what she means. “I adopted the persona my sister adopted.” She knows that she isn’t really being Mio, but somebody completely different. But that’s something she refuses to admit to herself, because... well... then she kind of has to actually admit that she isn’t Mio at all, but somebody completely different. And that kinda terrifies her because then she’d have to admit that she’s actually kind of being herself and she hates herself too much to want to be that person. Like I think that really what hit wasn’t anything he said about Mio. It was what Mio’s classmate said about her.   

Because if she isn’t similar to Mio... she can’t be her. She has to be being herself, and she can’t be herself because then she’d be somebody that she hates. 

And so we get to the conflict essentially depicted in the play, but before that I want to touch on a line that is kind of interesting. It’s in the episode after Touko has the flashback nightmare regarding Mio’s death. Sayaka says

Now she talks about this being because she is constantly reliving Mio’s death, but this is still an interesting way to phrase that. But it’s the perfect way, because it’s completely correct. Touko isn’t dreaming of the past because she’s still living in that time, when she was a little girl who couldn’t do anything right and was boring and average and shy, She IS dreaming about herself, because she doesn’t see herself as the character on-screen, but the nine year old (est.) in the flashback who is horrible and pathetic and weak and bad. 

Which is a good way to segue into the play. 

So, like, the play kind of comes across as a depiction of what’s going on in the narrative, and it is, but solely from Touko’s point of view. You can see this both in the way that Koyomi is clearly framing the story around Touko, it’s the only person whose mentality she cares about while writing, and also in the way Touko immediately can tell the story is about her, and also is able to cast every single other character on the spot. Like, this is clearly something that deeply resonates from her perspective, and how finding a “new self” is how she can get her happy ending, distant from her current, horrible state of being.  

In fact, she seems rather desperate to refuse to accept that who she is now is actually “her”. Like, look at the lines that cause her to start to really gets into it in 12.

The whole reason for all of this, the whole reason she needs to change and adopt some fake persona, the whole reason she has a breakdown in the first place, is that she refuses to accept that she is who she is. If she is who she is, then she isn’t some pathetic shy, average girl. She’s exactly the kind of person Mio pretended to be, only better. And that would require her to not be, in her eyes, a terrible person. 

But the entire point of, arguably, the climax of the show, is Yuu thinking that that’s fine. We could look at her argument for changing the script, but I’m not sure we need to do that except for one portion at the end. Let’s look at what happened before that, in Yuu’s conversation with Touko. 

This is kind of an interesting reframing of what Touko was saying, but completely accurate. The issue is that Touko doesn’t want to “be” someone, she wants to “become” someone, and there’s a pretty important distinction there. If you “becoming” someone, then you don’t have to think of you as... yourself. She saw herself as not following in Mio’s footsteps but turning into Mio, and no longer being “her”. And now that that’s not feasible, she needs to quickly find somebody else to turn into, because she can’t escape that 9 year old mindset that her sister was super awesome and she was horrible because she isn’t as cool as her sister. 

She is, essentially, that nine year old that desperately convinced herself that she could stop being Touko Nanami, the girl who lacked any value, by pretending to be Mio. Of course, now that isn’t feasible, but because it would be hard to argue that the current self is of no worth, it’s one that needs to be abandoned and she needs to become someone else that she can convince isn’t herself. 

Of course, as Yuu kind of points out, there’s a bit of a core problem with that.

Now you can, of course, just take this literally to mean the period of time within the show itself. And that is completely accurate, but you should probably take it farther. Because this play is from Touko’s perspective, and the logical conclusion to take is that the “amnesiac” is Touko as she perceives herself, the 9 year old girl. I’d say this is emphasized when Yuu notes that the “audience” only knows the girl on stage, which slots in perfectly with Touko noting that almost absolutely nobody but her even remembers what she was like as a child. Audience should probably be broadly extended to be... well, pretty much everyone.

So let’s extend this too. If we accept Touko’s rationale for making a choice, then it’s her life before Mio died that matters, not absolutely anything that came after it. But that means that to her literally everything after Mio died is of no value to Touko, because Touko didn’t learn, grow, or change at all during it. It was all things that happened to someone else, not her. And honestly her experiences with everybody, including her parents and including all her classmates and teachers and including Sayaka and including Yuu, are, to her, completely worthless. And that isn’t something Yuu thinks is true, and isn’t something she would accept. 

And now we can wrap this up with some thoughts on Episode 13. We’re going to start pretty late, roughly through the episode, after the two get soaked. 

It’s worth noting that prior to accepting Yuu’s invitation, Touko was feeling incredibly directionless and seemed to have absolutely no idea of what she wanted to do after the stage show was over. But suddenly she has all sorts of future plans, and they all involve being able to spend more time with Yuu. 

And I think that’s in part because of the second reason she loves Yuu that I can finally hit on.

In part Yuu acts as an anchor for her. Yuu is somebody that she can grasp onto and feel is still “her”, that there is a “her” that exists beyond her memories, that there is some part of her that is truly real and everything isn’t some fabrication. It gives her a sense of stability and allows her to maintain some current sense of self, even as she simultaneously, in one of the most magnificent acts of cognitive dissonance, declares that that current sense of self is meaningless and fake. 

This portion where Yuu improvs the beginning of the play also seems rather important.

I don’t necessarily want to put too much thought into the meaning behind most of the roles and their assignments; it clearly means something to Touko, but it’s dilluted under the form of metaphor to begin with, the overall structure of the play doesn’t fit really well with them being entirely representative, and just in general it feels like a fruitless approach, and I’ll touch on that more. However, I think Yuu’s role is actually a bit of an exception.

Yuu’s role is unique in that she’s somebody that comes in from the outside of Touko’s life. Unlike her loved ones, Yuu knows nothing about Touko before the “amnesia” (or before Mio’s death). The thing is that, again extrapolating to the context of the play... that’s essentially everyone. Like, Touko said herself that nobody remembers what she was like before she died, which is where the parallelism exists on that front. 

The reason Yuu has few lines isn’t because Touko doesn’t care about the feelings of Yuu in specific, she makes it pretty clear that she doesn’t care about anyone’s. The reason Yuu has few lines is because Touko is trying to isolate the present and eventually cut it out of her life entirely, and instead focus on the New Person that she wants to be in the future. 

I don’t think that the increase in the amount of lines Yuu has is necessarily due it being Yuu, because the point isn’t that it’s Yuu. The point is that this is a new person that came into Touko’s life, and if the choice is going to be based upon her present self, upon the person that has grown and changed over the last ~10 years, then the important person isn’t the people who tell her what she “was” like or even “should” be like, but the person that knows her for who she is. 

Like, the direct examples are things that Yuu specifically knows about her- but it’s worth noting that the flower example at least is something Sayaka likely knows too. The point here isn’t that this is knowledge that Yuu uniquely has, but its knowledge that Yuu has because she, and they, know the Touko of now, and not the Touko that Touko feels like she must secretly, actually be. 

This isn’t something Touko really... wants to accept of course, which naturally is a bit dispiriting to Yuu. 

And then after saying that-

Yuu starts to walk away, and we get this.

It’s worth noting that Touko hates disappointing people, really. She does it (see her shutting Yuu down in Episode 6), but it’s because of strongly held beliefs she has, and she makes sure to explicitly frame it as something I’m sure she genuinely wants to do- hold the Stage Show in Mio’s memory. So when Yuu, of all people, is incredibly disappointed in her response, we get this shot, which is an analogue to one of Yuu’s internal monologues from episode 1. Let’s go over exactly what she said there again.

Like in some senses this imagery is related to her love life (especially in the context of what Akari and Koyomi are talking about), but at its core its an imagery of isolation brought about by self-loathing. Yuu is scared about what her friends would say if she talks about this because she hates herself as the “girl unable to love” (we’ll hit way more on that next time.) So there’s a division between them that she is unable to breach.

Touko’s case is a bit different. We have the same basic principle here- Touko hates herself and it causes a massive communication gap, but the dynamic here is a bit different. Akari and Koyomi are already actively away from her, going on about their own things while Yuu is isolated and alone. This isn’t something that Yuu really feels like she can do anything about, it is just the way things are.

Meanwhile, let’s look at how this works in Touko’s scene.

A couple important differences here. The first is that unlike Koyomi and Akari, Yuu doesn’t already occupy that far, distant away-spot. She’s approaching it. And instead of just sitting there and letting it happen, Touko is actively, literally, reaching out in a desperate hope to not let her get there because she needs Yuu, and in a way, she does need this present “self” that Yuu in pretty much every sense is continually linked to. 

Now let’s remember how the scenes in each bit are resolved.

I think there’s three points to make here-

1. Yuu is the one to snap herself out of the self-loathing here. Touko has no agency whatsoever- she’s not even in the scene.

2. The conclusion Yuu draws is fundamentally wrong; Touko doesn’t want to go out with anyone because she is “incapable of love” like Yuu thinks she is, but because of all the pathologies that have emerged from her own self-loathing, and not feeling like that there’s anyone “safe” to go out with, even if she isn’t entirely honestly about that. 

3. As implied by one, her snapping out of her little daze wasn’t prompted by any action by Touko, but a memory of her.

Let’s see how Touko’s scene ends.

So a few relative points

1. Unlike with Yuu’s scene, Yuu never reaches that isolated section that Akari and Koyomi occupied. She just... stops. 

2. Yuu, here, is directly the person that calms Nanami down- she’s an active presence in the scene and really drives it; Touko doesn’t have to rely on what she thinks Yuu is like in order to calm her down, it’s the way Yuu actually is. 

3. At heart Touko’s scene, though a visual parallel, is a bit different. She’s not worried about nobody being unable to understand her, she’s worried about nobody being able to connect with or understand her anymore, now that Yuu is clearly giving up on her and leaving her life. But Yuu cares about as Touko and as somebody that helped Yuu so much with her own problems and issues of self-loathing, Yuu is perfectly happy to give Touko time to get through her same.

So I guess a lot of the final scene I want to touch on when I get to my Yuu mega-essay, but there probably is something that should be worth noting in the last line.

Overall there was a potential referential point earlier on but I don’t think it’s clear enough to be exact. The thing I take away from this scene, though, is that their relationship at this point clearly does need to change, because both of them have changed, even if Touko especially didn’t want it to. And through the imagery you can tell that it’s late and the last stop; they functionally need to change, or they’re never going to get anywhere. 

Okay, whew, that was Touko. Yuu’s post is going to be one I’ve been wanting to write but is also going to be a monstrosity, so who knows when I’m going to get it done. Same bat time, same bat channel, I suppose. 

Cheers.